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The air is humid and thick when Christen touches down in Kansas City.
She hooks her duffel bag through one of her arms and lets it dangle while her fingers type a quick message to Kelley letting her know what terminal she’s in because — Chris, we could totally share a room at the Holiday Inn. Lower rates, which means I could rent a car and pick you up from the airport.
It came in an eager voicemail while Christen was packing her things in Chicago post-semi final loss, and Christen initially plopped down on top of her bed mulling it over before texting Kelley back with a sweet and simple — Sure, Kell. Sounds good — because she may be overly optimistic, but she likes to think they’ve come a long way since that brief conversation on the soccer field that started and ended everything they became.
The windows of the car are rolled down when Kelley pulls up minutes later, a relaxed smile drawn on her lips. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” Christen’s eyes are warm and welcoming as she grins, and she sinks comfortably into the quick hug Kelley wraps her in before throwing her bag into the backseat.
“How was your flight?”
“It was fine.”
“Yeah?” Kelley’s thumbs alternate drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel. “Wasn’t too bad, not being able to use my shoulder as a pillow?” she’s smiling again before she’s done talking, and Christen attempts to hide the way it naturally causes her to do the same by darting her gaze out the window.
“Stop.” She fails ultimately, her quiet laugh swallowed by the music humming from the car’s stereo. “My seat neighbor was even better. They didn’t snore.”
+
“Syd’s having everyone over for dinner. A Wedding-Eve blowout, or something like that.” Kelley falls down onto the bed with messy, wrinkled sheets.
Christen halts the unpacking of her bag and offers a prompt nod in approval. “Should we, like — do we bring anything? Like food?”
Kelley’s lips purse in deep thought, and Christen trains her eyes back on her clothes. Because the freckles above Kelley’s upper lip bunch together as a result, and because Christen loves those freckles. Because she loved kissing them. “Um — I have a box of Cheez-Its in my suitcase.” And the more human-like, more dumb joke-like, and more platonic-like Kelley is back.
“Funny.” She deadpans, and she knows it’s the right reaction by the way Kelley grins smugly against her pillow. “I think — I think we should bring flowers or something.”
Kelley inflates her cheeks, then lets out an exaggerated breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It might be a little awkward if we show up empty handed.” She blindly reaches for her phone and clicks it on to check the time. “Looks like we’re going flower shopping.”
+
The GPS on Kelley’s phone leads them to a floral shop just 3 minutes out of the way.
“Smells like a funeral home,” Kelley murmurs offhandedly, earning herself a soft nudge in the ribs.
“I said you could wait in the car.”
“Well, that’s just no fun.”
“Then be helpful, ok?” Christen shoots the cashier a friendly smile through her words, and Kelley complies silently.
Christen’s busying herself with the assortments on one of the shelves when Kelley pokes at the the spot on her back between her shoulder blades. “Daisies.”
“Huh?”
“Daisies — your favorites. I think they’d be really nice.” She has her hands stuffed in the back pockets of her denim shorts, and Christen eyes her carefully before following her line of sight, which leads to numerous bouquets of, indeed, daisies.
“You remember they’re my favorite.” It’s not a question, and it’s not a statement. It just — is. Kelley narrows her eyes and scrapes her bottom lip against her teeth. She’s stalling, trying to think of something light to say to diffuse the situation.
“Daisies are everyone’s favorites,” is what she comes up with, shuffling her feet against the floor to get there.
“They’re not your favorites,” Christen rebukes. “You like yellow hibiscuses.” She’s pinching the petal of one of the daisies lightly between her fingers when, “Because they’re found in Hawaii, and you’ve never been, but it’s on your bucket list because you heard the waves were sick, dude. ”
A smile twitches at the corner of Kelley’s mouth. “I don’t sound like that,” is all she says, and Christen exhales a relieved breath, berating herself for letting her mouth run as long as it did.
As Kelley snatches one of the assortments and walks it over to the cashier, Christen commends herself for leaving out a tiny part.
“One day. One day I’m gonna go. I’m gonna go, and I’ll get a gazillion yellow hibiscuses and bring them back to you. Or even better, Chris, I’ll take you with me. I’ll take you with me to Hawaii and we’ll put flowers in our hair and we’ll watch every sunset together. I promise you. Ok?”
Christen had nodded then, and she’s nodding again now because Kelley’s over at the counter a few feet away asking her if she has exact change.
“You good?” she asks once Christen’s cheeks subtly redden. “It’s just 30 cents.” There’s a playful smile on her face, and Christen shrugs her off with a feigned eye roll before digging through her purse to fish out her wallet.
She’s searching for a dime when the cashier tells them she can spare them the 30 cents, as long as she gets a picture. “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had two World Champions walk into the store.”
+
They’re two of the last people to get to Sydney’s, having to settle for parking on the next street over.
Sydney loves the flowers, holding them up to her nose because, “I always thought daisies were the prettiest , ” and Christen has a complacent grin on her face when she locks eyes with Kelley because this time she gets to be the smug one.
“You guys trying to one-up the homemade pie I brought?” Alex is quick to pull them both into hugs.
“It’s not homemade if you buy it from a store, Alexandra,” Kelley contends.
Alex purses her lips. “You ruin everything.”
The girls from the team that came hold an exuberant amount of excitement in their greetings, as if they haven’t seen Kelley and Christen every month for the entire year.
But Christen doesn’t mind, because that’s what families do — they make each other feel loved and feel wanted and special.
She guesses that makes these girls her family.
+
“So I’m in the kitchen, and I’m all over the place making sure the house doesn’t go up in flames and burn to the ground, and I’m looking everywhere for Syd because God forbid something happened to her.” Heather keeps everyone on the edge of their seats with the ebb and flow of her voice, “And when I finally find her after what feels like a million years, she’s filming a Vine.”
It’s a story Christen’s heard before, but a laugh naturally bubbles up her throat anyway, causing her to lean back in her lawn chair and bump shoulders with Ali.
“Went viral.” Sydney crunches loudly on another potato chip while balancing Boss on the inside of her opposite elbow. “Would risk both our lives again. 10/10.”
“No, yeah, I mean — for every moment she’s driven me crazy were ten moments she kept me from falling apart. So all’s well that ends well. Right, Rooms?”
The insight of the words have Christen’s eyes drifting towards the goofy, freckled girl just across the patio. Because she knows even after all the hurt they’ve been through, she could say the same thing.
The rest of the night is filled with stories, ranging from Syd’s UCLA days — We beat Stanford one time , and no one can ever take that away from me. — to their recent World Cup Victory. — The best day of my life. After meeting Dom, of course.
Christen spends half the time wondering how every single one of those stories pales in comparison to the sound of Kelley’s laugh after hearing each one.
You know — solely for innocent curiosity purposes.
+
Kelley’s clutching onto her stomach when they pile back in the car just a little before 11. “I shouldn’t have had that 3rd piece of cake. I can already hear Dawn’s speech of disapproval.”
Christen draws her legs to her chest in the passenger’s seat and exhales a laugh. “Remember when she got mad because you snuck me a pack of gummy worms from the food room?”
Kelley palms her face and smiles behind her fingers. “The way you smiled at me when I got onto the bus and dropped it in your lap, though. Worth the extra set of burpees.”
+
They brush their teeth at the same time, lazy smiles through toothpaste and hip knocking to fight for more room in front of the mirror.
(Christen wins.)
+
Christen slips into her bed, Kelley slips into hers, and even after all this time, the space between them still feels like an ocean.
If Christen had taken Sydney up on the wine offer earlier, she might’ve been bold enough to say something about it.
But she didn’t. So instead, “Night, Kell.”
“Night, Chris.”
+
Kelley gets room service the next morning, and the cart of food is rolled in between their beds so they can both sit cross-legged under the warmth of their sheets.
“This is nice.” She busies herself spreading butter on a piece of toast. “No camp, no soccer. Just us.”
“Yeah, it’s cool.” Christen slides her glasses off her face and takes the hem of her shirt to wipe the lens clean. Her vision blurs, but the tiny smile tugging at the side of Kelley’s mouth makes her feel like she has 20/20 vision. “What?’
“Nothing,” Kelley shakes her head and brings her coffee mug to her lips. “I’m happy, that’s all.”
+
Sydney looks beautiful in her dress.
Christen’s seat is in between Kelley and Cheney during the ceremony, the members of the team in attendance taking up the entirety of the row with their respective plus-ones. She gazes admiringly at the altar, a soft pulse at her wrist when Kelley brushes their pinkies together between their chairs.
Christen listens closely to the vows in an attempt to ignore it. Because none of this makes sense. She’s made it eight years — that’s eight years — without thinking twice about what life would be like had she still been able to call Kelley O’Hara hers, and she feels herself regressing just because they booked a tiny hotel room together in Kansas City while in town for a friend’s wedding.
Dom has a smitten look on his face as he slides Sydney’s ring perfectly onto her finger, and a smile slants Christen’s lips.
Love is weird. It’s complex, and it’s all-knowing, and she’s not sure if she ever wants to understand it.
+
They’re assigned to a table at the reception with Alex, Servando, Cheney, Pinoe, and Sera.
“Bets on the running time of Abby’s speech.” Pinoe has a challenging look in her eyes as she etiquettely places her napkin on her lap. “I give it 16 minutes.”
+
Alex is forced to conceal a petty glare in Kelley’s direction when she beats her out by 2 minutes.
+
The attention of the room is fixated on the newlyweds as they sway together for their dance when Christen feels a tug at her dress coming from her left. “Chris.”
“Huh? Did you want some more butter again for your bread?”
“No. I just wanted to tell you — how pretty you look.” Kelley’s tone isn’t suggesting, and she’s not looking at Christen as if she expects a compliment in return. She says it to say it.
The beat of Christen’s heart feels heavier in her chest. “Thanks, Kell. You look pretty, too.”
+
The dance floor is swarmed with people just minutes after the cake is done being served.
Christen’s mind is still fuzzy from all the arm-brushing and shoulder-bumps committed in the past hour, wiltering her confidence to take on the Flo Rida song amping through the speakers.
Kelley, on the other hand, already threw her heels off under the table to challenge Heather in some O’apostrophe dance off.
Christen’s smart enough to know that life isn’t a collection of cliches, so the dance floor doesn’t clear in order for them to gracefully navigate their way to the center and fling their arms around each other before uttering some grand profession about how they wish they never broke up followed by an intimate slow dance to probably a Sam Smith or Ed Sheeran song.
So she grips tightly onto the thin base of her champagne glass instead, swirling the content inside before bringing it up slowly to meet her lips.
“How come you’re not out there, dancing queen?” Cheney’s at her side just as the song ends, and Christen’s head starts to shake.
“I don’t know how to dance, Chen.”
“Neither does Al, and she’s having some fun.” She nods her head towards the middle of the room, where Alex and Servando are in the middle of what looks like a tango — or maybe it’s a samba. Whatever it is — it makes Christen smile. “At least have my glass, ok?”
Confusion etches onto Christen’s face before she’s handed another glass of champagne, and she takes it willingly.
+
Sydney eventually drags her out onto the dance floor, and maybe Christen’s a teeny bit tipsy, so she lets her.
Kelley diverts her attention away from Ali and shoots Christen a smile so gentle it almost looks sober. “Guys, it’s my favorite dance partner!”
+
Christen leads the team in a Cha-Cha Slide.
She blames it on the alcohol.
Like, really blames it on the alcohol.
+
At some point in the night — Christen thinks her phone reads 1:06 — she and Kelley find themselves back in their seats, only their seats are pushed closer together, and Kelley’s feet are propped onto Christen’s, her toes tucked under Christen’s lap.
“I like this.” Kelley’s voice is tired and it’s light, but it’s genuine. “I like this, and I love Syd and Dom, and I love seeing you happy.”
Christen tears off small bits of her straw wrapper onto the table. “Not the first time you’ve seen me happy, Kell.” It comes off more as a deadpan than she was going for, but if it fazes Kelley, her face doesn’t show it.
“It’s not every day I get to see you the way I used to; all your walls down again. You’re just you. You’re just Christen.” She pauses shortly. “I’ve missed her.”
Christen’s voice lowers, and she’s unsure Kelley can even hear her when she mutters, “She never went anywhere.”
+
“Where do you fly out tomorrow?” Kelley squirts some toothpaste onto her toothbrush while Christen leans close to the mirror to remove her contact lenses, her breath fogging up the glass.
“LA.” She caps them back in their case and rummages the counter for her glasses. “Atlanta for you?”
Kelley nods and starts to brush.
And Christen — Christen shifts on her feet because, “Look, I know we haven’t really talked about the Stanford trip next week, but, like, I don’t know. I guess — I guess things don’t have to be weird, is what I’m trying to say. Because of history there. Or whatever.”
Kelley takes her time spitting out her toothpaste and rinsing out her mouth. Christen hands her a face towel, and she mutters a thank you in return. “Yeah. Yeah, I agree.” She maneuvers around Christen to hook it back over the rack.
She gazes back into the mirror as she undoes the makeshift bun on her head, and there’s this look on her face — like she wants to say something else.
Instead, she settles for a sleepy, “Night, Chris. Had fun with you tonight.”
+
They share a cab to the airport the next morning, Christen being dropped off first at the United terminal before Kelley at American.
“Need help with your bags?” she asks, her voice thoughtful, and Christen’s lips thin into a smile.
“Only a small duffle, but thanks.”
“Oh — right, yeah. Have a safe flight, let me know when you land.”
The words are simple and generic, but they hold enough magnitude to widen Christen’s smile.
“Always. See you next week, Kell.”
+
Christen spends six nights at home with her family, holding onto every laugh and every smile she gets to share with them before she leaves on a leg of traveling for the rest of the month.
She plays FIFA with her dad, runs errands with her mom, walks the dogs with her sisters.
And she’s happy.
+
They all come with to drop her off at the airport the morning of the 15th, Channing managing to wrangle Khaleesi into the backseat.
Her goodbye to them is teasing and brief. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
Her dad catches her gaze through the rearview mirror with a grin. “Never do, Chris. Have a safe flight. We love you.”
+
Stanford provides the car that picks her up from the airport and brings her to her hotel to drop off her bags before taking her to campus.
There’s a crinkle when she plops her purse onto the foot of her bed.
A note, scribbled in handwriting she’d recognize anywhere.
Lace up. Was hoping you and Kelly could show these girls how it’s done.
-Coach
+
Kelley’s already at Paul’s side when Christen takes her first steps onto Maloney Field, her feet heavy at the familiarity of it all.
“There she is,” his eyes are excited, and his tone is eager. “How you doin’, CP?” he brings her into a hug.
“Can’t complain about much,” Christen says easily. “It’s good to see you. Good to be back.”
“Kelley was just telling me about how she can still take you in a quick 1v1,” Paul chides, and when Christen glances in Kelley’s direction, the top of her tank top is brought up so it’s trapped between her teeth, and a small sliver of skin between the hem of the tank top and the waistband of Kelley’s shorts is exposed to the sun. And also to Christen’s eyes. Kelley looks back at her expectantly, her eyebrows wiggling.
“Well, she must still be hungover from all the drinks she had last week, because I can confirm that is horribly, horribly untrue,” she musters up smoothly, and Paul laughs heartily while Kelley’s grin stretches.
He’s beckoning the team in when Kelley stalks over to Christen and says quietly into her ear, “I could totally take you.”
“Alright, ladies, listen up. I don’t think these two need any introduction, but you all are in the presence of greatness,” Paul cracks a smile, and Kelley and Christen offer stiff waves. “Kelley O’Hara and Christen Press, the best this program has ever seen and recent World Cup champions.”
The girls erupt into a round of claps, and Christen and Kelley exchange timid smiles.
They participate in all the drills for the first half of practice, each sticking with a different group and trying to keep up with the young, fresh legs making up the team that they both called their entire lives.
Kelley’s a slightly more defined, copy carbon version of the girl Christen looked up to on this same field eight years ago, and the lingering thought nearly costs her an offside pass during the intrasquad scrimmage.
Her team ultimately edges out Kelley’s 4 goals to 1, and Kelley gracefully accepts her loss by tossing her pinny at Christen’s face.
Eventually, all the balls are kept, the cones stacked, and the entire roster stands in front of Kelley and Christen as Paul asks them to shed any advice or insight onto the girls regarding their time at Stanford.
“Soak it all in,” Kelley says easily, wringing with the hem of her training top. “Honestly, like — once you’re gone, you kind of — it’s easy to let things slip by you. Like how the sun feels as it beats down on you when you’re running sprints, or the laugh of one of your teammates as you crack a joke before practice.” There’s a long pull of a pause before, “Maybe even the way your heart is begging to jump out of your chest when you kiss your crush for the first time.” She receives a soft round of chuckles. “Me and Christen, uh — we sat on this same exact turf, and — we just talked and we talked. It didn’t even have to be about anything meaningful — hell, I could tell what kind of toothpaste I used that morning, and she’d still stick around.” Another round of laughs. “But, like, that’s what a team does, right? They stick by you. We sat here until eventually we were forced to leave because the guys needed to practice.
“This field I’m standing on right now holds some of the best memories of my entire life. Memories that are apart of me, memories that will never leave,” she shrugs. She pauses shortly, but it’s long enough for Christen to remember where she is and who she’s standing in front of. “So I guess what I’m saying is — enjoy it. All of it. Because I know I did.”
Then all eyes are on Christen, and the tingling sensations that come as a package deal with public speaking prick at the tips of her fingers. “Yeah, I agree,” she says, and she says it honestly. “For awhile, it was hard for me to think of this place — think of where I worked so hard to achieve this one goal only to have it taken away from me. More than once. I’m standing here, and I remember that Maloney is a place where I hurt a lot, but — but then I remember everything good, and I tell myself I’d do it all over again. I’d do it all over again for these little moments that all build up to become something bigger than this team, bigger than soccer, bigger than myself. So, yeah. I don’t know. Like Kelley said — enjoy it. Don’t enjoy it for the sake of the both of us, but enjoy it for yourself.”
In her peripherals, Kelley smiles like she has everything, and it looks so identical to the smile Christen grew so accustomed to seeing when they found themselves on this same spot almost ten years ago.
Then Paul coaxes everyone to gather around for a picture, and the daze is broken.
+
The football game is an even bigger stage.
Christen was never too huge on these big sporting events when she was a student — she found them unnecessarily loud. But Kelley, on the other hand, was a big perpetrator in the student section, and Christen found it endearing; the way it was so easy for Kelley to hype everyone else up without making sure not to forget to plant a quick kiss on Christen’s cheek between plays to remind her — I’m so happy you’re here with me.
Tonight is pretty much the same, except they’re not in the student section, and Kelley isn’t kissing her cheek.
She sips heartily on a soft drink she bought from the concession stands. “I liked your speech.”
Christen’s too busy trying to decipher which team currently has possession of the ball to hear what she said. “Huh?”
“Your speech at the practice today. I liked it a lot.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“You meant that? Doing it all over again?”
Christen’s eyes lift to the scoreboard — they lift to anywhere but Kelley’s face. “Yeah. I did.”
They’re summoned to the field at halftime, given matching football jerseys before posing for pictures together in front of the rancous, cheering crowds.
The lights are bright, the screams are loud, and Christen has to grip onto the jersey she was given to not let it overwhelm her. Then Kelley leans in to minimize the distance between her faces, her eyes still trained on the stands. “I’d do it all over again too if it meant I could make things right with you.”
+
They’re directed back to their seats before Christen has the time to think of a response.
+
The rest of the game goes by uneventfully, Kelley’s comment seemingly pushed under the rug when they both start discussing the potential of some of the girls on the current team.
“In 2009, if you would’ve told me after the loss that I would be back here as a World Champion, I would’ve told you to quit messing with me.”
Christen purses her lips in amusement. “That night of the loss, I stood outside your hotel room for an hour trying to think of what to say to you. And you were just — you were so upset. I didn’t want to make it worse. Not that things would be different today had I actually knocked on the door, but — I still wish I did.”
Kelley looks at her with soft eyes, then she looks back onto the field. “I wish you did, too.”
+
“I’m not staying at the hotel, I’m bunking with an old friend for a few days before camp.” They’re walking to their cars in one of the deserted back lots of the stadium after the game.
Christen pulls her hands from where they’re stuffed deep into her pockets. “Ok. Sounds good, have fun.”
“Hey, I didn’t mess anything up, did I?” Kelley halts her walking, forcing Christen to do the same. “Like, what I said at halftime. Did that ruin anything?”
Christen looks at her carefully. “Did you mean it? What you said?”
Kelley doesn’t respond; instead, her eyes are apprehensive as she takes a small step forward, the tips of her fingers pinching the hem of Christen’s t-shirt.
Christen darts her gaze down to Kelley’s lips, as plump and pink as they’ve ever been. “Are — you’re — “
“I want to kiss you. Is that ok?” she asks carefully, and butterflies start to invade Christen’s ribcage.
“Yeah,” she mumbles. Because she’s tired, and even more so because she’s spent all these years missing Kelley’s lips. “Definitely ok.”
So they do it.
+
Just like before, Christen delicately wraps a hand around the nape of Kelley’s neck.
Just like before, Kelley sucks softly on Christen’s bottom lip, because she knows how crazy it drives her.
Just like before, it makes Christen feel whole.
+
“No. You didn’t ruin anything.”
+
Christen has lunch with Allison McCann in Palo Alto the day before she’s scheduled to fly into Seattle.
“It was weird being back,” she stabs at her salad. “But, like, the good, sentimental kind of weird, I guess.”
“Mm,” Allison hums. “And Kell had fun, too?”
Christen shrugs, stalling time by sprinkling some parmesan onto her plate. “Yeah, I mean — you know her. It’s where her heart is.”
Allison offers a single nod in agreement. “I suppose.” Then she pauses her eating to study the girl in front of her. “And it was ok? Being back there together?”
“Uh-huh,” Christen murmurs. “I mean it was — whatever happened or didn’t happen — it was so long ago. It’s forgotten, it’s over.”
“Hm. Well, I think that’s great, then,” Allison encourages, tapping her nails on the linen tablecloth. “Says a lot about your foundation with each other — like how strong it is, you know?”
Christen nods, a pixel perfect mental image of when Kelley kissed her days ago in the parking lot formulating at the forefront of her mind. “Yeah. Pretty strong,” she almost laughs. “How about you? Do you ever miss it back there?”
“I miss destroying you both 2-on-1 at late night soccer tennis, yeah,” Allison teases, and a grin finds Christen’s face.
“We let you win because we felt bad.”
+
Julie’s her roommate in Seattle.
“They want us in one of the conference rooms before dinner to record goodbye messages for Boxxy,” Julie peeks her head out from under the covers as Christen continues to neatly unpack her bag.
Christen nods as her stomach sinks. Frankly, the words Boxxy and goodbye weren’t made to be put in the same sentence.
+
She and Becky are two of the last players to record their messages.
Oh — them, and of course, Kelley.
She sits slumped in her chair, her eyes wildly trained on her phone as she hypes herself up playing some game. Christen has to pretend to cough into her elbow so Becky doesn’t notice the endeared laughs bubbling their way up her throat.
Eventually, Christie walks out of the room and Becky gets called in, and as if it were a scene extracted from a teen rom-com where the main character is forced into a room with her ex-and-possibly-crush, Christen and Kelley are left alone.
Kelley starts whistling for all of two seconds when Christen speaks up, “This week isn’t about us. It’s about Boxxy. And Lori and Cheney.”
The whistling dies to a halt. “Uh-huh, I know.”
“Which is why I just — want to get something out of the way.”
“Ok.”
“Why did you kiss me?” Christen’s voice almost gets swallowed into the collar of her sweatshirt, and Kelley’s lips purse, indicating she wasn’t expecting to have this conversation. “I know I let you, and I’m not, like, mad or anything. But why did you do it?”
Kelley digs the heels of her hands into her eyes before straightening up in her seat. “Maybe I’ve been scared for the past six years, and being at these different places with you where we celebrated love and we celebrated ourselves all within a week made me feel brave.”
Christen’s bottom lip slips in between her teeth. “Scared of what?” her gaze remains peeled on her lap, but she finds Kelley’s eyes floating towards the door to the conference room, itching for Becky to walk out and call one of them in.
“You really want to know.”
“Yeah.”
“So after this we can go back to this week being about Boxxy and Chups and Chen?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok,” Kelley exhales loudly. She waits until Christen locks her gaze before, “Scared of still loving you and stuff.” She backtracks quickly. “Not that loving you scares me. Loving you is probably one of the only things I’ve ever done right. And I mean that. It’s loving you after I ruined us. That’s what scares me.”
That’s when the door swings open and Becky walks out of the room, motioning for Christen to head inside.
Christen uses the arms of the chair she’s sitting in to help herself up when Becky nudges Kelley’s knee. “Why so quiet, lost your little game?”
As if a spell of some sorts was broken, Kelley reverts back to her comical self, laughing artificially. “Lost your little game?” she mimics in a high-pitched voice.
Christen vacates the space without another thought.
+
To her pleasure, dinner goes by uneventfully, partially attributed to the fact she and Kelley sit two tables away from each other.
When they end up behind each other in the dessert line, neither of them say a word.
+
Kelley O’Hara
Today 12:58am
You didn’t ruin us.
Delivered
+
Open practice is the next day, and it’s less of a serious session and more of a celebration of Shannon Boxx.
The bus ride next to Kelley is fine, marked only by Kelley handing Christen the extra pack of gummy snacks she snagged from the food room. “Gotta stay on brand.”
She doesn’t say anything about the text Christen sent last night, and Christen is thankful. She never expected a response. She didn’t want one. She just wanted Kelley to know.
+
The atmosphere at dinner is light, until everyone silently remembers it’s Boxxy’s last one with the team. Then everything feels a little heavier.
Christen forks begrudgingly through her salad. Because this tinge of dejection doesn’t lift itself off everyone’s shoulders after tonight. They’ll be forced to go through it all again with Cheney and Lori in Orlando.
The thoughts linger enough to keep her lips sealed for the majority of dinner, and Kelley, who sat perched right across from her at the table, seemingly takes notice because afterwards, as everyone’s making motions to clean up their trash and head up to their rooms for the night, “You ok?”
Her voice is soft and smooth, the tone Christen always believed to be reserved only for her ever present. She utters an unconvincing, “Yeah, I’m all good.”
Kelley knows she’s lying, but she nods anyway. “Well, if you decide you’re not, then I’ll be in my room. Kling’s in some pool tournament with Kriegs and Becky so she’ll be in and out all night.” Her voice lowers. “This week isn’t about us , and I haven’t forgotten that. But I still want to be there for you.”
“Ok.” Christen remains quiet as she tosses out her plate.
Following Kelley out of the elevator once they reach the 5th floor is her way of shyly accepting the invitation.
+
Kelley turns on ESPN for background noise, then she nuzzles under her covers while Christen sits comfortably at the foot of the bed.
“It’s all….kind of dumb.”
“It’s never dumb if it’s bothering you,” Kelley’s voice is nearly at a whisper. Christen just shrugs.
“Everything's just sinking in. Everything with Boxxy, Cheney, Chups. I don’t — I don’t always deal well with people leaving.” The last part isn’t intended to act as a double entendre, but Christen figures if the shoe fits, then it’s out there.
“Well, that just makes you human, you know?” Kelley plays with the buttons on the remote to keep her hands busy. In college, instead of the remote, it’d be a loose thread on Christen’s sweats. Or Christen’s hair. Or Christen’s fingers.
But this isn’t college.
“I guess I like to think people don’t really leave. Like, I don’t know. Like they’re never actually gone. You’ll always have them. In every world, you’ll always have them. You just — have to work a little harder to remember.”
Kelley’s voice gets tight as she speaks, and Christen swallows deeply. “It still hurts. I wish it didn’t do that.”
“I wish it didn’t either,” Kelley mumbles. “But just — try and trust me, ok? Take my word for it, I don’t know. Just trust I mean every word.”
Christen really, really wants to. “Can I kiss you again?” she blurts, watching the way Kelley’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “It might — I don’t know. It might help me do that.”
Kelley nods slowly, drawing out a shaky breath. She lets Christen crawl on top of her, over her lap and over the white comforter.
“Look, this kiss doesn’t — I don’t mean this or that in regards to how the two of us move forward. I just need to do this. Ok?”
Kelley nods again.
Then Christen’s fingers are wrapping around the nape of Kelley’s neck, letting themselves tangle just a little into Kelley’s hair.
Then the tips of their noses brush against each other’s.
Then their lips latch tightly. And, to put it in metaphorical purposes, Christen feels like every question this world has to offer has been answered.
+
“Did you really feel brave? That’s why you did it after the game last week?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ok. I should, um. I should head out. I told Julie we could watch some Netflix before bed.”
“Ok. Night, Chris.”
“Night, Kell.”
“So we’re still good? All good?”
“Yeah. All good.”
+
Christen doesn’t fool herself the next morning by trying to wipe out the events of the previous night completely.
She just pushes it to the side. Temporarily. For game day.
True to her nature, Kelley spends most of the day in her room mentally prepping for the match, making an exception for team meals (and for when Boxxy’s husband drops off Zoe at the hotel to hang out with the team the hours before the game.)
Christen spends the day with Julie and Kling, keeping her muscles relaxed and decompressed.
Not so much as glancing in Kelley’s direction until they load the bus for the game that night doesn’t bother her, doesn’t nip at her skin. Their time apart was good. The words they exchanged the previous night still ring true. They’re all good.
+
Christen doesn’t see any minutes on the field.
She’s a steady force on the bench, sandwiched between Amy and Sydney until before she realizes it, the entire stadium is on their feet, and Boxxy’s waving gratefully as she tugs the captain’s band off her arm.
It’s overwhelming to say the least, watching her take her last steps on the pitch in a Spearman jersey, and Christen feels sad until she doesn’t, because she remembers what Kelley told her the previous night.
Boxxy may be leaving, but she’ll never be gone.
+
Kelley gets subbed out in the 71st minute.
She sits at the end of the bench next to Cheney, and Christen earns herself a squeeze on the knee when she offers Kelley a sip of her water on her way to her seat.
+
They pull off a 1-1 draw, and Christen’s one of the first people hugging Boxxy the second the final whistle blows. Then she braces herself mentally.
In four days, they do it all again.
+
She rooms with Crystal in Orlando, and the two of them, Ali, Ashlyn, Pinoe, Kelley, Kling, and Morgan are loading into one of the team buses on their day off to Disney World.
Kelley squeezes herself into the second row of the van between Christen and the window, and their knees knock together the entire ride there.
+
“Space Mountain, c’mon!”
“The line’s so long, though.”
“I don’t think Kling’s tall enough for it, either.”
“Original.”
+
They end up splitting into groups, Christen tagging along with Kling, Crystal, and Morgan to tackle more rides while Kelley sticks with Ali, Ashlyn, and Pinoe to go shopping.
They all meet again in front of Cinderella’s castle, and Kelley’s taking a long lick of the ice cream cone she bought herself when she fishes a small, wrinkled plastic bag out of her pocket and hands it to Christen.
Christen’s lips purse. “You know I was joking when I said I wanted the giant lollipop, right? That thing was ridiculously overpriced.”
“Just open it,” Kelley urges softly, and Christen heaves out a sigh before shaking the bag until a Donald and Daisy Duck keychain, with her own name engraved along the gold strip that stretches across the bottom, falls into the palm of her other hand.
The smile she catches on her lips is goofy and smitten. “Kelley — “
“There was a discount on the ones that could be personalized,” Kelley shrugs easily, consuming another bite of ice cream. “So. Yeah. I don’t know. Kinda childish, but I thought it was funny.”
Christen validates her with a light nudge to the ribs. “It’s awesome. Thank you.”
“For sure.” Kelley gets this look on her face, this look of recognition, nostalgia, or some combination of the two, and her gaze shifts to her feet.
Christen reads her cautiously. Then, “I remember, too.”
Kelley glances back up at her like she’s not ready to admit what’s on her mind.
“The first time you gave me one of these,” Christen clarifies for her. “In my dorm, after our huge fight.”
Kelley nods. She smiles weakly. “Yeah.”
Neither of them know what they’re exactly supposed to say, so Christen fills the silence with a, “Just because the circumstances are a little different now doesn’t mean I love this one any less.” Her eyes plead for Kelley to catch onto what she’s trying to say. And she does, because the tight muscles in her face simultaneously relax.
“Yeah? For real?”
Pinoe’s beckoning them over to get into the selfie she’s trying to take when Christen reassures, “For real.”
+
They’re back at the hotel by dinner time, Christen fighting off exhaustion as she slowly eats through her veggies.
Her knee bounces underneath the table as Jill informs the team of the following day’s logistics regarding fitness meetings with Dawn and open training, and the second she’s back in her and Crystal’s room, her brand-new keychain joins the old one she got eight years ago dangling from one of the zippers on her carry-on luggage.
+
Similar to what they did for Boxxy, the team’s called in to record goodbye messages for Cheney and Lori once they’re finished with lunch the following day.
In favor of Christen’s sanity, Kelley’s still lining up for dessert with Tobin and Alex when she goes to record her messages, so there’s no continuation of Seattle, where Kelley may or may not have implied she was still in love with her.
But thinking about that leads Christen to think about other things.
Like how she knows she could fall for Kelley all over again, on any given day. She wouldn’t have to try; it’d be as easy as breathing.
Like how, while that’s true, she knows she can’t let herself do that. Because falling in love is exactly what it sounds like. It’s falling. And she doesn’t know if she’d be strong enough to get back up this time around.
Then she runs her hands harshly down her face.
This week isn’t about them.
+
She finds herself lounging in Cheney and Amy’s room after dinner, solving a puzzle with Ryan while Amy’s in the shower.
Cheney grunts tiredly as she takes a seat next to Christen on the floor. “I know I forbade all of you to get remotely sentimental about tomorrow, but I’m gonna miss you, CP.” She tugs her close for a hug, and Christen leans into it wholeheartedly.
“I’ll miss you too, Chen.”
Cheney runs an absent hand through Ryan’s hair. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Everything ok?”
“Yeah, of course, everything’s fine,” Cheney squeezes her shoulder. “It’s sort of — it’s sort of something I haven’t really talked about with anyone else. And…. I know it doesn’t do you any good to keep building it up, so I’m just — gonna say it, I guess.” A sweet smile etches onto her lips. “Chris, I want you to have #12.”
Christen freezes in place, the puzzle piece she was grasping onto slipping between her fingers and onto the carpet. “Me?”
Cheney laughs, then places a hand on Christen’s knee as she nods her head. “Yes, you. You, you, you. I look at you, and I see me. I see who I used to be, and at times, I see who I want to be. We’re so much more than the numbers on our backs, but if the one I’ve worn on mine had to be passed onto someone else — and it does — I want it to be Christen Press. I want it to be you.”
Christen fails to hide the fact tears are lamely welling up in her eyes, tugging on the hem of her hoodie to cover her mouth. “Chen, that would — that would be everything,” she laughs giddily, and Cheney beams before pulling her into a tight hug.
“I’d tell you to make me proud, but you already do every day.”
+
There’s so much happiness inside of her and she doesn’t know what to do with it all, so she finds herself knocking on the door to Kelley’s room an hour later.
The words start to spew out at a hundred miles an hour, and Christen’s grinning as she loses her sense of balance and falls back onto the bed when Kelley wraps her in what feels like the proudest hug there ever was.
+
It doesn’t bother Christen when she’s not named to the starting XI. She tells herself she’s used to seeing more minutes in the second half anyway.
But come the 89th minute, her spot on the bench is still warm and occupied for the second friendly in a row, and it gets harder to tell herself it doesn’t matter.
+
She’s the first one on the bus after the game, her eyes flitting closed the second she plops down into her seat, and they stay that way for what feels like nearly 10 minutes until she hears the doors open again.
Kelley saunters down the aisle chewing loudly on an apple, tossing her bag onto the overhead compartment before smoothly sliding into her usual spot next to Christen. “Want a bite?”
“I’m good.”
They sit in silence for a little bit, Kelley tapping through her Instagram feed while Christen irritates a loose thread on her training pants. Then Kelley clicks her phone off, and it falls between her legs. “You’re upset about something.” She takes another big bite of her apple.
Christen’s shoulders slump. She knew the possibility of this conversation floated into the air the second she could feel Kelley’s eyes on her as she walked out of the locker room. “It’s selfish,” she admits. Because this isn’t her day. It’s not about her. It’s about Cheney and Lori, and celebrating everything they’ve done for this team on and off the field.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not valid,” Kelley offers.
“I’ve been on the bench for the past 180 minutes this team has played in regulation time.” Christen attempts to keep her voice steady and strong. “The Olympics are just around the corner, and I’m supposed to be believing in myself, but it’s getting — really, really hard to do.”
Kelley sighs deeply. Then she holds the silence. “You know what I’m most proud of? Out of my entire soccer career, you know what I’m most proud of?”
Christen shrugs. “World Cup win.”
Kelley’s face falls flat, as if she had forgotten. “Oh, shit, yeah. Ok, well — second favorite thing, then. Do you know it?”
Christen shrugs again, but this time with an entertained smile.
“Tying the goal-scoring record in a single season at Stanford.” Kelley says, and Christen gnaws on her bottom lip. “It would’ve been holding the goal-scoring record in my entire career there, but a good friend edged me out.” Her voice is teasing but genuine. “And if there’s one thing I wish for her, it’s that she sees everything everyone else sees in her. Everything I see in her. Because frankly, I see a lot. I see the entire world.” She takes another damn bite of that apple. “Not saying that’ll put her on every roster, put her in every game, but — if it helps at all, then I like her chances.”
Christen’s too giddy to hide the embarrassingly wide grin on her face. She scans the window to make sure no one’s around, then she abruptly kisses Kelley’s cheek.
Kelley’s chewing halts.
“I like my chances, too.”
+
They spend most of the next day apart. Kelley goes out exploring the city with Tobin, Alex, and Sydney while Christen stays in watching movies with Julie, Morgan, and Kling until they board their flight to DC.
Christen, in retrospect, is grateful for the time apart.
Because she feels herself falling again. And it’s easier to admit that. It’s easier to admit that she feels herself falling again than it is to admit she never stopped.
+
The White House is a nice distraction.
Christen and Kelley tend to gravitate with their respective circles of close friends, the most interaction they share when Kelley locks Christen’s gaze from across the room and points a quick finger at her before mouthing the words really pretty.
They’re all waiting in one of the rooms for the President and First Lady to speak when Kelley bites the dust, nudging herself on the vacant edge of the chair Christen finds herself sitting in.
“You look pretty, too,” is the first thing Christen says, and Kelley’s face blanks for the quickest of moments before she recovers with a grin.
“I’m about to be the third prettiest girl in this room behind you and Michelle Obama,” she quips, sending Christen into a quiet fit of giggles. Once it settles down, “The very first promise I made to you was that we’d have it all. Do you remember?”
Christen nods, because she does. It was the morning after the first time she ever slept over at Kelley’s, and their faces were in such close proximity Christen knew she’d be able to count every single freckle on Kelley’s cheeks. And she tried, she did. But upon discovering how soft and sweet Kelley’s voice right after she woke up, Christen lost count.
“I know ‘all’ is a broad term, and I’m not saying we have it, but — Chris, look around. We’re in the White House waiting to meet the President of the United States so we can be honored for winning the World Cup. You and me, together. If this is as close as we’re getting to having it all, then I’ll take it. Any day, any year. I’ll take it. As long as it’s with you.”
Christen’s forced to hide the giddiness of her grin into Kelley’s shoulder. “We don’t have the easiest story, but I’d say we have one of the best.” And when Kelley lifts her fist to call for a tiny fist bump, Christen reciprocates the action.
+
Christen’s scheduled to take a red eye to Los Angeles later that night, so when the team disperses back to their rooms once they’re taken back to the hotel, she knows her and Kelley’s goodbye is coming. (At least until the December friendlies.)
“Need help with anything? Packing or whatever?” Kelley asks, following close behind Christen to her room.
“Nah, I’m all good, thanks.”
Kelley nods. “Try to actually keep our Snap streak when we’re apart this time,” she cracks a goofy smile, and Christen laughs.
“Sorry, ok, I will.”
They stand there like that for awhile, Christen leaning against the door to her room while Kelley hovers inches away from her. “Don’t do something crazy like kiss me again,” she jests, and Christen laughs again before tugging her into a hug. “Have a safe flight.”
“You, too. I’ll see you soon.”
+
Getting stopped for pictures and autographs at places like the airport isn’t something Christen will ever get used to, but it’s gratifying. And when she does it all on top of getting safely to her gate with twenty minutes to spare until boarding time, she considers it a win.
She takes a long sip of her coffee, beginning to scroll through the pictures that make it onto her Instagram feed from earlier, one posted by a kelleyohara catching her eyes and forcing her to pause. The reminder they won’t be seeing each other for another month infuses an extra wave of boldness into her system.
+
christenpress commented: @kelleyohara I’ve never seen someone actually look cute in their own selfie.
+
An incoming text illuminates her phone minutes before she turns it on airplane mode.
+
Kelley O’Hara
Today 10:43pm
Then you’ve never seen any of your own. #truth
+
Christen has to angle away from the person in the seat next to her to suppress her smile.
She forgot what it felt to flirt like a teenage girl.
+
November goes by quickly. Christen spends a large majority of the time with her phone away (save for the one-a-day Snapchats she sends to Kelley) so she can enjoy every day with her family before her flight to Honolulu.
Every day, every meal she sits down and eats with her parents and her sisters, she feels grateful. She feels so, incredibly grateful. Because as much as she loves traveling and visiting all these places she would never be able to see otherwise, nothing beats home.
+
Her phone starts vibrating with a call during Thanksgiving dinner, and she lets it slip by her in favor of edging Tyler out for the last serving of their grandma’s mashed potatoes.
She checks her phone once she’s finished helping clean up the kitchen when she’s notified of a voicemail Kelley left.
+
“Hey Chris, it’s me. It’s past midnight here, so Thanksgiving’s over, but — I guess as dumb as it might sound, I couldn’t sleep thinking that you might have to go another year without knowing how thankful I am for you.
I don’t — I don’t really know how else to put it, I’m just — I’m thankful that there was a point in time the universe let you and me become an us, you know? I’m thankful for, like, every single one of your smiles, and every single one of your laughs. But I’m also — I’m also thankful for every one of your tears, and every one of your frowns because you showed me even in the darkness that someone could still shine so bright.
I’ve been thankful for you since the moment I met you, and I’m gonna keep on being thankful for you every single day. Promise. Promise, promise, promise. I know I’ve broken a lot of those, but this one I swear I’ll keep.”
+
Christen gets so caught up in family game night, she forgets to call her back.
+
Half the team’s already unpacked and wandering the resort when she touches down in Honolulu December 3rd.
She rooms with Becky, and just as she’s rolling her luggage into their room, she gets a text from Julie prompting her to come down to the beach.
Christen looks down at the lei around her neck, and she doesn’t have to be told twice.
+
She’s greeted with excited and eager hugs the second her toes sink into the sand, and she pretends to squirm at those in their bikinis who engulf her in their arms as they drip soaking wet from just emerging out of the ocean. Kelley sets herself apart from the rest by the looks of her wetsuit.
“There she is,” she grins. “Hey, you mind waiting up for me before everyone heads back up for dinner?”
Christen shrugs. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Sweet.” Kelley doesn’t say anything about the unreturned voicemail. Instead, she commends Christen for keeping their streak before racing Tobin to catch the next wave.
+
The next few hours are a little overwhelming, everyone scrambling to take tons of pictures of themselves with the view while simultaneously keeping a tab open at the Tiki Bar.
Christen spends a lot of time sipping drinks out of coconuts with Julie. (In all honesty, she doesn’t really see the hype of it all. It tastes the same as it would had it been served out of a normal cup, but she figures this way is prettier. So she rolls with it.)
She’s on her second Mai Tai when Ali announces she has to retreat to her room and hop in for a quick shower.
Most of the girls follow suit, asking Christen if she’s going to tag along, who dismisses them with a wave and a, “I think I’m gonna head back when Kell does, but thanks.”
Becky’s gaze shifts towards the shore, where Tobin’s getting ready to head back in, but Kelley’s still looking for a good run. “Girl’s gonna look like a prune before she decides to call it.” As she leaves, “I’ll save you some hot water.”
Christen thanks her with a laugh, then she tops off her drink before walking back to the beach. It’s empty for the most part, save for the few surfers getting in more waves before the sun goes down and families trying to coax their kids back inside the hotel.
It’s another 12 minutes before Kelley’s dragging herself and her board out of the water, shooting Christen a tired but charismatic grin. “You stayed.”
“True to my word,” Christen says, and Kelley playfully flicks pellets of water onto her face before stalking over to a clump of towels in the sand. “Did you need help carrying this up?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Kelley says absently. “But that’s not why I asked you to wait.”
“Oh.”
“I asked you to wait,” Kelley plops her surfboard down into the sand, then she peels off the top half of her wetsuit. Then she’s rolling out two towels so they lay flatly side by side, “so we could watch the sunset together.”
Christen hopes her smile doesn’t look too eager. “Yeah?”
“ Oh yeah,” Kelley nods. “I promised you every sunset together in Hawaii, didn’t I?”
“You remembered,” Christen doesn’t mean to whisper, but that’s what her words come out as, and before she knows it, she’s sitting inches away from her ex-girlfriend. “You remembered that promise.”
“Chris, I remember every single one,” Kelley shrugs, her voice suddenly all-too soft. “I’m still holding out hope that it’s not too late to keep ‘em all.”
Then she gets quiet, so Christen mumbles, “It isn’t.”
It stays quiet for awhile, and their arms knock against each other every few moments until Kelley speaks up, “Tell me about them.”
Christen’s eyebrows pinch together. “Huh?”
“Sunsets. Tell me about them.”
Christen sighs deeply. “Well, um — they’re my favorite,” she shrugs. “Above everything, they’re my favorite. They’re just — you can’t put them in a box. Does that make sense? Like — like if you ask ten different people what a sunset looks like, you’ll get ten different answers. Some people might say it’s a mix of red, yellow, and orange, and other people say it’s just really, really bright until it isn’t. But they’ll all say it’s beautiful. If not anything else, it’s beautiful. And, in some way, that’s kinda sorta like people.” She realizes she’s rambling so she bites down on her lip. “I don’t know. I guess — I’m trying to say that — sunsets are my favorite because — because they just are.”
Kelley’s smiling at her when she’s done talking. There’s no hint of teasing, no hint of judgement. It’s soft, and it’s tender, and it’s endeared. “I know. I just like hearing you talk about them.”
Christen laughs, covering her face in her hands. “Oh, awesome. Cool.”
“Everyone deserves that,” Kelley murmurs. “After hearing the way you talk about them, everyone deserves to find their own sunset.”
Christen nods, unsure how to respond.
But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to respond, because the sun meets the horizon right in front of their eyes.
And it’s perfect.
+
There’s a short training session the next morning, and Christen has to mentally remind herself to stay locked in, the scenery around them making it hard to do so.
During lunch, there are talks.
“They might cancel it,” Abby informs. “Turf’s horrible, they need to take a look at it.”
It occupies a hefty portion of Christen’s mind until the team’s loading the bus to go to the Pearl Harbor Memorial.
Kelley’s donning an exotic button down shirt, the flowery print loud, and Christen has to clench her jaw to hold in a dumb laugh. “You look good, Kell.”
“Yeah?” Kelley’s smile excited. “Everyone’s been giving me shit for it,” she kicks at Alex and Tobin’s seats right in front of her. “You like it?”
“I do,” Christen reaches over the space between them to flatten out the edge of the collar.
Her favorite freckles just above Kelley’s upper lip bunch together again as Kelley purses it subtly, and Christen leans back in her seat before she gains an urge to kiss them.
+
There’s a few hours of free time once they get back to the hotel until they’ll be called in for dinner, and everyone capitalizes by going back to the beach.
Kelley opts out of another surf session, going on about how she already showered and doesn’t want to do it again before Christen loses visual of her, and she’s lingering with Julie and Cheney by the beach volleyball nets.
She comes back twenty minutes later, two small objects in the palm of her hands. “Chris, can I grab you for a second?”
Christen wants to balk at the knowing and amused grin on Cheney’s grin, but instead she nods and tugs Kelley away for more privacy.
“Flowers in our hair,” she holds them up, two bright yellow hibiscuses. She places one in Christen’s hand, and Christen’s hand, and Christen’s heart jumps for a brief, brief moment. “I didn’t forget I promised that, too.”
“Can you help me put mine on?” she asks, and Kelley raises her eyebrows.
“Oh — yeah,” she says nonchalantly, taking a big step forward so the the tips of their noses are nearly grazing. Her fingers are delicate as she takes the flower from Christen’s hand and places it neatly behind one of her ears. Christen has to shut her eyes to try and ignore Kelley’s breath on the crevice of her neck. “So pretty,” she breathes out a laugh when she’s all done, and Christen smiles gently at her, before wordlessly returning the favor.
“Even prettier.”
“Not a chance,” Kelley mumbles. Her eyes flit to one of the stone ledges near the edge of the sand that acts as a bench. “You wanna take a seat?”
Christen nods. So they do.
They’re sitting there for a few minutes until, “I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my life. I’ve pre-gamed too hard, committed dumb fouls. Drank orange juice right after I brushed my teeth.” Her knee starts bouncing. “Let you go.” She pauses to roll her lips together. “One thing I don’t want to add to the list is pretend these last couple months didn’t happen, dating all the way back to the weekend of Syd’s wedding.”
Christen panics, her palms all of a sudden beginning to feel sweaty.
“Chris, what have we been doing? When we kissed after the football game…. then again in Seattle... what were we doing? I’m not trying to sound condescending, but — I just really, really don’t know.”
Christen doesn’t know what the right answer is. “You said you were feeling brave.”
“I was feeling brave the first time,” Kelley says. “The second time, you kissed me.”
She doesn’t sound accusing or angry by any means, but Christen feels herself getting anxious. “Did you love me?” she blurts out, cowering immediately after.
Kelley’s knee halts its bouncing. “What?”
“When we dated. When you — broke up with me. Maybe even now, I don’t know. Did you ever love me?”
Kelley licks her lips. Then, “With my whole heart.”
Christen looks down at her lap to avoid the gaze of anyone walking in front of them.
“What about you? Did you love me?”
Christen’s hands are shaking so much she needs to trap them under her thighs. She nods. “Then. Now. Every day in between.”
Kelley’s ears immediately perk.
“But that doesn’t mean — that doesn’t mean I’m strong enough to try this again,” she admits, and Kelley starts breathing a lot more heavily. It’s a solid minute of listening to the waves crash onto the shore when,
“Chris, every single time I look at you I think maybe — just maybe — God, or Jesus, or like, whoever the hell is up there didn't mess up on something. You give me hope. You’re my sunset,” She takes a long pause. “You’re — you’re constant happy.” Her voice cracks, but her composure remains in tact. “You are always, always constant happy. My constant happy.”
And Christen feels herself start to unravel, because there they are. The two most important words to her finally found her ears again. But she can’t give in. At least, not yet. So instead, “Then why did you make me feel like I wasn’t?”
Kelley brings her legs up to her chest, rests her chin on her knees. “I made a promise I never told you about,” she says. “The College Cup.”
Christen eyes her cautiously.
“The first day we talked to each other on Maloney Field, just the two of us, I told myself that if I’m playing for anyone but myself, then it was gonna be you. Then — then I fell in love with you. Really, really hard. And I felt lost because for the first time in my life, I had all of this love inside of me, and I didn’t know what to do with it.” She pauses to regain her thoughts. “I didn’t believe in myself. I’ve seen and I’ve experienced how messy and fucked up love can be, and — that was enough for me to call it off so we could do everything to win the championship. Not just for the rest of the team, but — but for me and for you.
“But then — then we didn’t, and — everything was just….. bad . I lost my dream, and I lost you, and it was no one’s fault but my own.” She sighs in defeat. “Been carrying around that baggage for nearly ten years.”
When Christen knows she’s done, she scoots a centimeter closer to her. So the side of their legs touch. “Falling for you is one of the things I’m most proud of,” she murmurs. “I swear. It is. But everything that happened as a result of me falling was just — God, there was a lot and a lot of hurt, Kelley.” She scans her brain for the right order of words to continue with. “I must be crazy about you if I’m willing to take the chance and endure it all again.”
Kelley looks at her sharply, her eyes hopeful. “Wait, so — so you’re saying — “
Christen leans forward and makes sure no one’s around. Then, when no one is, she turns to Kelley, curls her fingers around the collar of her shirt, then tugs her closer. “I’m saying….”
She comes to the reality that she doesn’t really know what she’s saying. So she kisses her instead. And when Kelley’s grinning against her mouth, she realizes. “I’m saying….” she’s smiling so hard her cheeks are already beginning to ache. “Constant happy, Kell.”
+
They don’t announce it for the rest of the world to know. They don’t even tell anyone on the team. Just yet.
Instead they take a picture. An innocent picture.
+
christenpress: When you’re so excited to get to Hawaii, put a flower in your hair, & take a selfie. Yesssssss