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"Hey, I have a crazy idea," Caroline opens.
She's lounging comfortably on her bed across from Laila, intently reading something on her phone like she's preparing a speech.
Laila scrunches her face in dread, "What?"
"Ok, so. Cap's about to propose,"
Oh! Fuck, the cold opening really had her thinking KK was up to some sinister bullshit! She's just thinking of a grand gift she can give Knight and Bowe to congratulate them! How sweet.
Instead, a bomb drops, "We should one up them and get married,"
Laila gawks at her as she leans in conspiratorially. Caroline raises her silly almost-notched eyebrow like she just raised any sort of interesting point.
Laila knew it was too good to be true. Of course it is, in fact, some bullshit.
"You are not fucking serious," she laughs.
Caroline gestures to her phone, "It says here we can't legally get married because we didn't think to bring our birth certificates-"
"KK, what the fuck are you on about?"
"I'm being so serious! Canada has the wife line, but we just have a fiancée. If we want the gold we need to have some wives,"
Laila rolls her eyes so hard she tetters on the edge of injury reserve.
"And we are, what? Team USA's biggest assholes for- in your words- one upping Cap?" she points out.
"Ok, I said that as a joke," KK places a hand out defensively, "But it would be so funny to say we got Olympic married!"
Laila gestures out the window to Italy at large, "It's not Vegas,"
Caroline slinks down into her pillows as her face contorts into a pout.
"Whatever, you don't see the vision. I'll marry someone else," she shoots Laila a glare.
"Who?" she asks, kind of offended.
Caroline shrugs, "Zumwinkle,"
Something about that sends them barreling over in laughter. (No offense to Grace, who would probably be a good sport about a Vegas wedding in not Vegas)
They end up dropping the conversation, and return to showing each other every third or so tiktok on their feeds. But, something feels off.
Listen, she gets it. Hockey is a space queer women have carved out with their bare and bleeding hands. Some could even say that getting serious about the sport includes getting used to the idea of road head; at least among your teammates if not yourself.
Laila knows about her weird 'breakup' with Watts and even worse will-they/won't-they hatefuck with Murphy. She knows KK can be a bit, as they say, messy.
She's been knee deep in that mess for a long time. It's apart of being teammates, linemates, roomies, and best friends.
But this joke and all its poor taste bothers her in a way she just has to voice aloud. So, she does.
"Hey, I'm not like, your rebound," Laila says, all to earnestly.
Feeling the tension in the air build, she quickly cuts it off by joking, "I'll need an actual proposal. You'll have to pawn your medal to buy my ring,"
Caroline blows air through her nose in a semblance of a laugh.
"Ok, Lai," she smiles in the dark, "I'll blow your fucking socks off,"
—
Laila doesn't stew over the concept of spontaneous marriage. She doesn't 'stew', ok? She plots and reviews.
So she's been thinking about it. Not a lot, just enough where it's sort of giving her a headache.
Another thing giving her a headache is how fucking obnoxious Caroline is being over breakfast.
She leans over the table with her phone, demanding Bilka's opinion on something.
"I don't know if diamonds are the move. Garnet's her birthstone, but is it too cheap?" KK rants.
Surprisingly, Bilks seems all too interested. Laila's bullshit meter spikes.
Hannah points out, "But there's so many colors of garnet. You can fit like, a hundred stones on there,"
Caroline looks at her like she just unlocked the secrets of the universe.
"You're a fucking genius," she says.
Laila loudly clacks her plate on the stable, spooking Caroline as she sits way to close. Hannah smiles like her TV show just got good.
"What were you talking about?" she asks, ominously.
Caroline giggles, "Nothing,"
Laila makes a sound in her throat. Disbelief and annoyance.
She opens her mouth to voice all that, but someone accidentally bumps her shoulder with their arm.
"Sorry-" Cap says.
Laila quickly goes to assure her that it's nothing, but whatever. What-fucking-ever.
"Excuse me?” Caroline squawks, “That’s my fucking wife!”
“That's literally her wife, by the way,” Hannah adds helpfully.
"Oh my god," Laila groans, folding her head into her hands, "They're joking,"
Thankfully, Hilary decides it's too early in the morning to deal with rookie bullshit. She lets the interaction gloss over her and goes to sit with her (almost) fiancée.
Once Cap is out of earshot, Laila turns her venomous gaze to an almost gloating Caroline.
"You're still on this?" she digs.
"I told you, I'd knock your socks off," Caroline shrugs innocently.
She digs her fork into the Olympic rings shapes pasta with a self satisfied smirk. Laila can't help but smile back.
"You'll have to sell a kidney," she chirps.
Caroline hums around a mouthful of food, "Doable,"
Conversation then cuts to the high stakes life changing hockey they'll be playing later today. You know, like, the important shit they were sent here to do?
Laila's never felt weird about hockey. So, she lets the un-weirdness of the topic rinse out the weirdness she feels about this whole proposal bit.
Otherwise, if she thinks about it too long, she's terrified it'll show on her face.
—
Caroline sinks her first puck into Olympic net as the fifth and final goal of their nasty shutout against the Swiss.
The rush to join the hug is immediate. Laila is only a second away before wrapping an arm around her, giddy on victory and pride.
"First of the new wife line," she joked later, in the locker room.
Laila shoved their shoulders together and returned to screaming about like madwomen with the rest of the team.
Harvey returns to the board again as she turns 0 into 1.
It's a beautiful opener in the first, and the first of five to mark their historic shutout win over Canada.
"That's my girl!" Laila screamed.
The game played on. She bided her time, waited her turn, and shoved into the way when it arrived.
It happened! It really, really happened!
The first Black woman to score for team USA hockey and Laila Edwards stand in the same skates. She doesn't let the gravity of that slip past her.
Laila closed them out with a fifth goal. History rushed in her ears louder than blood as she slid against the bench, giving everyone a high five. The whole world was watching, her first and theirs.
The word 'first' is really, really flattering on her. Laila makes a point to push it.
"I'll catch up," she chirped KK.
Caroline only lit up, "And your ring'll get matching earrings!"
The enormity of the world stage only gives them room to skate. Room to fly, and a world to dominate.
When she looks through her camera roll, Laila sees two little girls to dreamt of becoming something. When she looks in a mirror, she sees those same girls in the midst of the becoming.
There's only so much pride you can fit in your body before it has to burst out. Laila cheers so loudly that, even though it is without words, it's gotta count.
—
When Hilary gets on one knee and proposes to Brittany, they burst to riotous laughter and proud tears with the rest of the team.
They make eye contact and, then, a truce. No jokes about their own supposed ring, rapidly approaching. Not today.
—
After the game, the ceremony, the media, and the parties, the sun threatens to come up outside the Olympic village.
The two collapse into the beds not unlike wet spaghetti being thrown onto the floor. It is not elegant.
"Hey," Caroline croaks.
Her worn out voice is also not elegant. She's still sweaty and red faced. Laila is just about as worse for wear.
"Hi," she answers.
The darkness of the room cools around them. The air floats into something like stillness.
"I don't have a ring," she says, sounding disappointed.
Laila points out the obvious, "You have something better,"
From their place on the nightstand, their gold medals lean heavy on the conversation. Something like a ghost, a panopticon, a child begging for attention.
It doesn't glimmer in the dim light. They do.
"Yeah," Caroline's smile grows sappy, "I have you,"
Laila melts into the smile that swallows her face. She's so disgustingly happy that she might be leaking joy like oil.
There's a long beat of silence before Caroline breaks it. The ice, the tension, the glass box around the elephant in the room.
"If I asked if we could do this properly, what would you say?"
The timidness in her voice makes Laila's heartache.
"I'd say," Laila says, methodically slow, "That I was scared,"
Across the gap, Caroline nods. Laila shifts uncomfortably around in her covers.
"K, we have no idea what the draft is going to look like," terrified, Laila asks, "What if- what if we aren't teammates anymore?"
Caroline is quick to reassurance "We'll figure something out. I promise,"
"We could, um. We could room together instead of with our team. We could move in together in the off season. I could slip on the ice and throw all the games for you,"
Laila laughs way too loud at that, "Never in a million years,"
"Yeah, you caught me," Caroline grins before returning to seriousness, "But, for real. We could figure it all out,"
The future ahead of them is so bright that no shape can be made out in the lightness. There is no oracle to lean on, nobody to ask what becoming Laila Edwards and Caroline Harvey entails.
There are no certainties except this one. This thing in her chest that's been worming around in her heart, swallowing it and reforging it in someone else's image. In Caroline's image.
"Then let me ask," Laila says.
"Ok," she nods.
"Caroline?"
"Yes?"
Laila pours all her love into her next question. It's as earnest and honest as she could make anything.
"Would you be my girl? Nobody else's?"
Her earnesty and honesty is matched when Caroline responds,"I already am,"
And, if an arm drew up to open a place beneath the blanket? And, if a body crossed the space between too small beds, curling into warmth?
Well, that would be nobody's business. That would belong to them alone.