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Gemma finally ended up completing her bantr profile Tuesday morning at the behest of the twins.
Apparently, it was less fun if only a portion of the team got in on the latest dating crusade, which was encouraged this time by an invitation to use the app from Keeley. Between her insistence that they might actually find love and the realization that almost all of the girls were single at the moment, the Lady Greyhounds made a pact at the pub that at least five of them would find partners in the new year. They couldn’t exactly get on Ted’s case about whether he was lonely when most of them settled for hookups and regularly texting their exes.
“Describe myself in three words?” Lizzie laughed, looking at the final question. “Never mind, I give up.”
“Mum, passionate, fit,” Boots chimed in, taking the phone from Lizzie, typing in the words, and handing it back to her.
“Thanks,” Lizzie said, seeming a little stunned. “Remind me why you’re not doing this?”
“Don’t believe in it.” The keeper shrugged. “My millionaire with a Porsche is going to arrive to me when I’m ready, not before.”
“If Boots isn’t doing it, do I have to?” Gemma asked, staring down at the same question.
“Yes,” the rest of the team chorused together.
Gemma groaned. She hated the apps. Any woman she’d matched with on the others: Tinder, Hinge—fuck, she’d even tried Bumble—ended up ghosting her, expected her to have sex with their boyfriend, or seemingly hadn’t read a book since they were in sixth-form.
“Unless you’re scared,” Siobhán challenged. “Think you’re not gonna get any matches?”
Gemma scoffed. “Please. My phone will be blowing up by Friday.” She wasn’t actually sure of that—the idea that it was all personality was certainly…. different, far more nerve wracking—but she wasn’t going to tell Siobhán that.
Niamh snapped her fingers with an idea. “Ooh, that’s fun. How about a friendly wager, striker?”
“What sort?” Gemma asked, tying up her laces. Alice had come in, indicating that training was about to start. Gemma couldn’t help but watch her across the dressing room as she put up a new post-it:
And be open-minded.
It wasn’t in Alice’s handwriting though. It was Beard’s. Gemma guessed she had been tasked with putting it up since not everyone was fully-clothed for training yet.
Alice turned, her eyes meeting Gemma’s. Gemma smiled at her. Alice raised an eyebrow, playful. Gemma rolled her eyes, pleased at the way Alice’s mouth twitched.
“G?” Siobhán kicked her lightly.
“Sorry, what?” Gemma asked.
“Twenty quid for whoever gets more matches between you two,” Niamh said. “Were you even listening, or too busy pining after Coach?”
Gemma sputtered. “I’m not pining,” she hissed. “And lower your voice.”
“This is why you need to do the bantr thing,” Siobhán reminded. “Find another lanky nerd to sleep with since you refuse to tell her how you feel—“
“Twenty quid,” Gemma interrupted. She felt her face going hot. “Whoever has the most matches. You’re on.”
She and Siobhán shook on it with Niamh as a witness. Lizzie rolled her eyes.
“C’mon, you three. Let’s not keep Ted waiting.”
Gemma shoved her phone into her locker, trying to come up with answers for her profile in her head as they followed their captain out onto the practice pitch.
“Hey, I’ve got your three words too!” Boots informed Gemma in the middle of training when she managed to finally slot a ball past her. Boots had been blocking shots like a demon all training.
“Oh yeah?” Gemma asked. She would take all the help she could get.
Boots nodded, giving Gemma a kind smile. “Never stops trying.” She tossed the football back to Gemma. “Let’s go again?”
Gemma smiled back. She loved Boots; it was moments like this that reminded her exactly why. “Yeah. Let me score this time?”
“Never.”
***
The first three profiles that the app offered as matches almost made Gemma decide to just transfer Siobhán twenty pounds so she wouldn’t have to keep using the app.
The first was a baker, whose first question was what Gemma’s address was so she could send her some of her special baked goods. Gemma decided against replying, despite her curiosity of what that might mean. She left the chat in her inbox though. Niamh sent the rules, and only saved matches were counted for accuracy.
The second, somehow, was still a cis-het couple looking for a third. Gemma deemed them too annoying to either get a free meal or count them as part of the wager, so she used the block button.
The third was a woman who worked in finance, who Gemma liked well enough through the first five messages they exchanged before she asked Gemma her ultimate life dream while admitting that hers was to make as much money as possible so she could own five private jets and a helicopter. The aspiration was altogether too specific, greedy, and brainless for Gemma to entertain the conversation any longer. Sue her— she ghosted.
Somebody needed to talk to Keeley about how she advertised this app. So far it was shit. Gemma guessed a lot of people didn’t stumble across who they’d hoped or expected after making a profile. In fact she imagined it’d probably created some pretty awkward dinner dates.
When she was making dinner, it only got worse. A fourth match request rolled in, and then a fifth, and then a sixth. Without thinking, Gemma accepted all three, before immediately regretting it. The one at the top of the stack was very clearly another law student—Gemma could not handle thinking about school any more than she already did—especially not when their opening message asked if she’d ever been held in contempt with a winky face after. This person did not know how to flirt. She didn’t answer, navigating to the next one. Their username was avatar_aang, which was fine, but Gemma quickly realized the profile was written as they were actually Aang from Avatar. Nope.
The last new match, paws4power, said they had seven dogs, two bunnies, and four cats. As much as she loved animals, Gemma decided that was altogether too many pets for her.
Jesus. This was hopeless.
Gemma was about to call off the bet, unable to imagine that Siobhán was having any more luck than her when her phone pinged again as she poured some rigatoni into boiling water on the stove. She peeked at the notification: We think you’d like: @SWorlando! Get to chatting :)
Gemma stirred her pasta around so it wouldn’t stick to the bottom and clicked into the profile, scanning the details.
So she was tall. Gemma liked that. Not a bad start. She kept scrolling.
Huh. Nice. The rest of the matches were much further out of Gemma’s neighborhood.
Gemma found it stupid that those weren’t separate categories in the dropdown menu. Another thing to bring up to Keeley.
Gemma smiled. Good sense of humor.
Correct take.
Gemma liked the idea of that. Considering she still had a good number of Sunday matches this season, somebody who was busy at the same time was appealing.
True. Olivia Dean played so much in the dressing room that sometimes when Gemma heard her in public, she had the urge to stretch.
Gemma wondered what that meant. She figured if they got far enough into talking, maybe she could ask. And then she realized that she was actually considering sending the first message because she liked this woman’s profile so much. Huh.
As Gemma finished scrolling, the Match? button appeared. Her finger hovered over it. She hesitated. Of course, Gemma knew it was impossible to be sure just from the details of a profile, but this woman seemed kind of too good to be true. She swiped through it again to make sure she read it all right. Then hit accept.
The chat appeared. Gemma clicked into the box. Then out of it. Trying to think of what to say. Something that wouldn’t lead to her being ghosted or receiving the driest possible answer in return. She put down the spoon she was using to stir her dinner so she could use both thumbs to type, clicking on the username.
Then she placed her screen face down on the counter so she wouldn’t see right away if a notification popped up. Fuck. This was almost worse than when the matches were shit.
Gemma continued to stare at her phone, debating whether she’d said the right thing. She reached for it to text Niamh a screenshot and ask, but then she remembered the wager. She couldn’t exactly admit in the first night that she was actually offered a profile she liked, not when she was so resistant to even opening an account just this morning.
In the end, Gemma’s decision was made for her when her pasta water boiled over.
“Shit!” Gemma hissed, turning off the burner. Steam billowed through the apartment, and the heat detector began to beep.
Gemma raced around her flat, dragging her desk chair over so she could stand on it to reset the sensor. Her upstairs neighbors banged on the floor.
“Sorry!” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for checking I’m not dead,” she muttered.
***
After cleaning up the stove and eating dinner, Gemma forced herself to continue to stay off her phone. She’d allotted three hours for studying, and she wasn’t going to let some stupid dating app get in her way. Plus, maybe by the time she was done, she’d have gotten a reply— not that such a thing was her main motivation for getting through her problem-set quicker.
Around 9, Gemma finally quit for the night, proud of herself for submitting her assignment three whole hours early. That never happened. She scooped her phone up, seeing that Alice had just texted her:
Above it was a screenshot of a series of messages between Gemma’s mother and Alice, with Gemma’s mum now guessing what sort of pastries Alice liked. She’d given up on the tea.
Bunny had requested Alice’s number after she drove Gemma home after an away match, came in for tea, and was too polite to say she had a preference for something different when Gemma’s mum mentioned she’d already brewed a pot of chai as another stage of her experiment to find out Alice’s preferences. Ever since, Bunny had been on a quest to get to know Alice, my daughter’s friend!
Which meant that Alice regularly fielded texts from her about the most inane of subjects.
Gemma felt bad. She also found it sort of charming that Alice didn’t seem to have the heart to tell Bunny to leave her alone. Gemma found everything Alice did charming.
She thought about typing something else, too, maybe asking Alice her thoughts on bantr when a banner popped up at the top of her screen. Gemma abandoned her texts with Alice to tap on the message. She didn’t really care much about seeming eager.
Gemma stared at the message. It wasn't overly flirtatious. It also wasn't a complete shutdown. She typed, deleted, and then typed again.
Three dots appeared immediately. They danced on the screen for a while, long enough that Gemma was sure that the message would be a long one. Instead, it just seemed that Orlando had been hesitating:
Gemma’s eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t help it. Most people knew the three date rule. It seemed Orlando was one of them. It surprised her, mostly because this woman confessed to being shy on her profile.
There was a clear thread of nerves in the messages. It made Gemma smile for some reason.
Gemma blushed. It was sort of embarrassing but she realized that the feeling she was experiencing was— butterflies. She’d sort of dismissed the idea that they were an actual thing people experienced. Two more messages rolled in which made Gemma laugh:
Gemma buried her face in the hoodie of her sweater even though there was nobody there to see her grinning.
Gemma’s fingers flew over the keys, then she hesitated when she read the message she’d typed out. The flirting felt good, but she couldn’t help but be curious about one of the texts from earlier: And about a lot of other things, to be honest.
It was sort of weird how badly Gemma wanted to know. She never cared much for strangers. It was one of the reasons why dating apps never tended to lead her anywhere. But— she had the feeling, for some reason, that this woman wasn’t a stranger. Or at least wouldn’t be one for long. Maybe Gemma had been unfair to the dating app scene. Maybe they did work sometimes.
She hit send.
Again, three dots. Gemma stared at them, hopeful. Then they disappeared.
“Ugh,” she groaned, dropping her head down on the desk. Too forward. She should have known. When her phone buzzed in her hand after a second, Gemma was almost embarrassed at how quickly she unlocked it. But it wasn’t bantr. It was Alice.
Gemma rolled her eyes, but she felt the gesture bleeding affection. The text instantly made her feel better. She wanted to tell Alice that she found her plenty kind, that she knew that tough guy act was all, well, an act. She’d seen it in the way Alice took extra time with Shannon, in the way Alice spent at least an hour reading to Archie whenever he had to come in because daycare fell through. Alice had flaws. Of course she did. We all did. But at the same time, Gemma didn’t see anything wrong with her.
Gemma knew she couldn’t say any of that in actuality, no matter how she wanted to. Thankfully, she was saved from herself when bantr pinged.
Immediately, Gemma felt guilty. They’d literally matched tonight and she’d asked for this person—whose face she didn’t even know—to tell her about something that was clearly so personal. She went to type back, to say forget it, but another message came through before she could.
Gemma wanted to say she did know. She wanted to say that every time she walked out onto the pitch, she found herself scared it would be the last time and she wouldn’t even know it until it was too late.
She wanted to tell Orlando that she was sick to death of this particular self, the one that came back with Doctor Beaumont and Caroline’s help completely better for all intents and purposes, but sometimes, when she felt something pull she found herself worried she’d be stuck back in the MRI machine after sunset again, her knee stuck in a brace and too proud to ask for someone to hold her hand while Doctor Beaumont’s thumbs felt the damage in the post-scan examination. But Orlando was still typing— and Gemma found herself strangely certain that there would be time for her to share, too.
The question left Gemma surprisingly breathless. She appreciated the forward nature of it. She also had no idea how to respond. Maybe that was a good place to start.
Pulse pounding in her ears, Gemma tried to reply as quickly as she could.
Gemma smiled. Right, she typed back.
***
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Ted observed as Gemma jogged out onto the pitch, first out of the tunnel. “Have a good day at school, kiddo?” he joked.
“Yeah, it was great.” Gemma grinned. She had, actually. Though she’d taken a step back to focus on football, her classes were still going quite well. This morning, she got an exam back and her professor held her after to tell her he was impressed with her responses.
But that wasn’t the culprit for Gemma’s good mood. Actually, for all intents and purposes, she should feel like shit. She’d spent the entire night texting on bantr, lying on her side so she could keep her phone plugged in.
“Is Alice in today?” Gemma asked, running in place while everybody else filed out of the dressing room.
“Oh, yeah.” Ted nodded. “Seemed tired as all get out this morning though, so I sent her to grab coffee for me and Beard— and her too. And it’s not because she’s a woman,” he added. “I let her take my credit card. Like I didn’t make her pay or anything.”
Gemma laughed. “I didn’t think that, Ted.”
“Ah.” He smiled, his ears going red. “Right.”
The rest of the team quickly joined her in their stretches, Siobhán carrying out the speaker on her shoulder like it was a boombox.
“This is such a good album,” Gemma said, feeling a smile come to her lips when Nice to Each Other came on the shuffle. “Album of the Year, even.”
“Nah, I think the Wicked album,” Niamh disagreed, rolling her neck out. “Have you still not seen that?”
Gemma shrugged. “Following musicals isn’t high on my list of priorities. You know that.”
Niamh huffed. “Yeah, well, following the law isn’t high on my list of priorities either, but you see me doing it.”
Lizzie pointed at her. “That is not the same thing at all and you know it.”
Siobhán snickered.
“I thought both Wickeds were good,” Ted shared, doing his version of stretching which was mostly awkward dad lunges and arm circles. “Oh, thank you, Coach,” he said when Alice came up beside him with a drink carrier.
The drink that was his was obvious: a large, blended mocha with double chocolate syrup. Gemma didn’t know how his stomach handled that. Beard nodded at Alice who handed him a hot coffee. She had a warm drink in her hands too, and looked so bleary in her puffer with its too-long sleeves that Gemma couldn’t help but stare. Gemma wondered what Alice had been up to last night that she didn’t sleep much; it was pretty unlike her.
“Hey, Gem.” Boots nudged her gently. “Are you even trying not to get made fun of today?” It was kind. She knew how embarrassed Gemma secretly felt when the girls teased her.
Gemma blinked, snapping herself out of it. “Thanks.”
Boots nodded. “Eyes on the prize, striker. We gotta win this weekend.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Extra shooting practice after?”
Boots grinned. “You’re on.”
***
There was a bantr message already waiting for Gemma when she got back to her phone after practice. She and Boots only stayed out an extra fifteen minutes, so everyone was still milling about.
Keeley’d come down to speak with Lizzie about the press logistics for their next away match, and Beard was listening in. Ted and Alice were in discussion about something that seemed secretive, though Gemma couldn’t tell what. They were both on their phones though, clearly comparing notes.
Siobhán was halfway in Niamh’s locker just to be a dick, stopping her sister from getting her clean clothes to take to the shower. She was also on her phone, and she had her ringer on so everybody could hear it every time she got a text.
Gemma hardly paid any mind to it, leaning into her own locker so that nobody could see over her shoulder. The team could be so nosey about these things.
Gemma rubbed a hand over her mouth, trying to contain her little grin.
“You said that?” Ted asked on the other side of the room.
“I don’t know! I was trying to be cool!” Alice replied. “Don’t make me feel worse!”
Gemma was too locked in on watching as the three dots appeared on screen to care much what they were speaking about. She knew Ted had roped Alice into a fantasy basketball league, so maybe it had something to do with that.
“Whatcha doing?” Niamh asked, ducking into Gemma’s locker so they were practically nose to nose. Jesus. Gemma fumbled with her phone. Niamh caught it. Of course she recognised the bantr interface. “Oooh, what happened to thinking the apps were stupid?”
“They are stupid,” Gemma growled, snatching her phone back. “I’m only doing this for the twenty pounds of drinks Siobhán is going to be buying me at the end of the week.”
“Big talk over there,” Siobhán laughed. “How many matches you got, then? I got five yesterday.”
“Well I have six.” Gemma smirked. It was technically true, not that she’d talked to the other five besides Orlando at all, but they were still in her inbox. Still counted. “Could’ve had seven but the account was two people— you know how it is.”
Siobhán wrinkled her nose. “Gross.“
“Unthinkably,” Gemma agreed. She gestured to Siobhán’s phone. “You meet anyone nice?”
“Nah, not yet,” she admitted. “Decent conversation with one, though. Another wanted me to sample her homemade candles and try out a hand-sculpted chair she just finished as a first date. Felt like a lot.”
Gemma laughed. “Well at least you can be sure she was queer.”
Siobhán laughed. “True. What about you?”
Gemma looked down at her screen. There was a new message:
Gemma’s mouth worked around a smile. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.
“Oh my God!” Siobhán shrieked. “You’ve met someone!”
“No!” Gemma denied quickly, locking her phone before someone could try to take it from her. She knew how this worked. “No, I was smiling at something totally unrelated!”
“Show us your phone then,” Shannon chimed in from where she’d been relatively silent, reading her book while she waited for Gemma to be ready so they could grab coffee.
Gemma gaped at her. “Traitor!”
“Your WhatsApp said you were online the entirety of last night,” Lizzie agreed. They all looked at her in confusion. “What? I check to make sure you lot get home.”
“I was—“ Gemma sputtered. “I was texting Alice!” Gemma looked to Alice, who still sitting beside Ted on her phone. “Alice, tell them.”
“You texted me back like twice,” Alice replied, earnest and matter of fact. God, Gemma wished she knew how to lie, but she didn’t actually have the heart to be upset. She was finishing Beard’s coffee. She still looked exhausted. “Your mum and I messaged more than we did. I’m having dinner with her on Friday, by the way. You can come if you want.”
The team fell silent, looking between Alice and Gemma.
Gemma’s mouth fell open. She could feel herself going red. She didn’t have to look to see the twins were grinning with absolute, unfettered delight. “I told you to tell her to leave you alone!”
“You know I’m anxious!” Alice defended. “You didn’t text back!”
Gemma laughed a little. She couldn’t help it. “Well, obviously I’m coming. I’m not going to leave you alone with her.”
“Thank God,” Alice sighed in relief. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
For a second, they both just smiled at each other.
“I’m naked!” Boots announced from the other side of the wall. “Anyone who wouldn’t like to see should leave!”
“And that’s our cue,” Ted said, gesturing to both Alice and Beard. “Great practice today, everyone! See you tomorrow.”
Choruses of goodbyes filled the dressing room as the coaches filed out. The second the door swung shut, the entire team rounded on Gemma. The questions came rapid fire:
“She’s having dinner with your mum?” Niamh whispered.
“You and Alice text regularly?” Siobhán added.
“That’s big she-likes-you vibes,” Margy chimed in.
“Why does she have your mum’s number?” Mady asked.
“Yeah, Gem, I can’t really defend you on this one,” Lizzie told her.
Gemma felt like she was going to melt into the floor. Her ears were so hot it was a miracle her head wasn’t on fire. She tried to answer each question with as much composure as possible: “I told her that she should ask to be left alone, but she was worried about seeming impolite. I forgot to text her back last night after I was done studying.” True enough. “No, we don’t text that regularly, but sometimes. And she doesn’t like me, because if she did, we would be texting all the time.”
Margy made a sound of obvious disbelief.
Gemma ignored her. “Alice drove me home after an away match and because my mum has met her a few times, she wanted her number for emergencies. She has since gone about the process of systematically embarrassing me every week by trying to get to know Alice, who, as you know, is somewhat of a closed book. And I don’t need defending,” she finished stubbornly. “I don’t even like Alice that much anyway.”
Everyone groaned. Mutters of that’s such bullshit and Gem, seriously? filled the room.
“Hey, cut her some slack,” Boots said, now wearing a clean tank top. Gemma gave her a grateful look, and immediately regretted it— because of course while Boots was willing to assist before the ribbing began, once it started, anything was fair game. “She spent all practice staring at Chilton. Think her head’s all fuzzy from learning what Coach looks like having just rolled out of bed.”
The whole team exploded into ooohs and giggles.
Gemma fell backwards into her locker, accepting her fate that she would die there.
***
***
Gemma didn’t even try to go for any new matches. She got several notifications from the app, recommending profiles in an effort to get her to continue to engage with the interface. They popped three at a time every few hours. But none of them seemed very interesting, not in comparison anyway. She’d made her peace that she lost the bet, and she didn’t particularly care.
Twenty quid was a small price to pay for the hours she spent at night texting with her mystery woman on bantr. She’d learned a dozen more things about her, each more interesting than the last. It started with small stuff, like the fact that she had very particular taste when it came to chips—in her opinion, most Spoons didn’t fry them long enough and didn’t add enough salt, but the price made up for it—and that she had a strong preference for the DLR over most Tube lines. The conversation always got more real the later it went on into the night; Gemma learned about the woman’s breakup that happened a handful of months back because she was too focused on work, about how she had some difficulty going back home to her neighborhood in South London because it was so different than what she remembered it being when she was a kid. Gemma learned that she couldn’t sleep well on her left side because of her old injury, and that she wasn’t a part of any particular denomination after Gemma mentioned that her mum always seemed to find herself interested in some new religious practice.
Except— whenever it rained, Orlando told her, she always thought of her grandfather. How he used to arrive back just in time for dinner, dripping from head to toe at the height of winter because he’d spent all day working at the train station. He frequently missed the bus because he stayed behind to make sure everyone else was going home, too, would usher the younger staff out with him so they wouldn’t accrue non-billable overtime. It would always be pitch dark by the time he found himself pulling out his keys. But he’d never arrive angry. Instead, he’d be grinning when she came to the door, dropping his boots—he always took them off on the mat before coming inside—and ignoring the slosh of his soaked-through socks so he could pick her up and spin her round the front hall. His thinning hair would be plastered to his forehead. If there’d been a football match on that day, he demanded a play-by-play recap so specific it always took the entirety of dinner.
Unexpectedly, Gemma felt her heart in her throat. They’d established how much they both liked honesty, but this felt— deeper than that. More intimate.
She looked outside. It was pouring. She typed back:
Gemma had the sudden, precious feeling that she wanted this woman very badly. She could scarcely think of a time when words felt so much like enough. But they did now.
The conversation carried on. By the end of the night, Gemma shared how she’d been trying to eat healthier and had been failing spectacularly because she liked Fanta too much. That her favorite Tube line was the Circle because if she managed to catch the earlier train to lecture she could usually get a seat since it was an off hour. Plus, air-conditioning.
Orlando asked to hear more about her classes, and Gemma ended up spilling her guts about being a full-time student and having a demanding job—she didn’t say what; it somehow felt easier to say if she didn’t mention it was football, mostly because she knew it was a job a lot of people would kill for without understanding how hard it could be—and how lonely it could be at times to know her coworkers were going to hang out into the evening while she had to study or take a make-up exam.
Gemma stared at the message. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to know who this woman was, and she had to know as soon as possible. She didn't care if Niamh and Siobhan made fun of her for the rest of time. Okay, maybe she cared a little bit. But she had a feeling that it would be totally worth it. Gemma was agnostic on all matters of religion. She preferred the court of law when it came to judgment. But right now— right now, she had the inexplicable feeling that she really did believe in something; the only feeling she knew that came close was when she looked up at the sign in the Lady Greyhounds' dressing room. She didn't know why that was, but it felt— important. Special.
She promptly threw her phone across the bed to the other side and screamed into her pillow. Of course, she immediately crawled across the mattress to retrieve it because a response came back, fast as lightning. Gemma groaned when she saw the reply: that Orlando already had dinner plans on Friday and didn't know when they would end. She offered Saturday, but Gemma had a match then and she knew—
Gemma felt her whole body go hot. It was only words, she reminded herself. But soon— if it all played out the way she hoped, it wouldn't be. Anticipation was making itself a home between Gemma's ribs. She let it stay. She quite liked the feeling. She grinned when another message came through.
Sighing in relief, she texted back, offering up a few different ideas. In the end, they decided on meeting up at a little Caribbean place just off the Thames. Gemma liked the idea because it meant they could go for a nice walk after if the date went well. She was banking on it going well.
And then, after only a moment's hesitation, Gemma swiped over iMessage.
Gemma was way ahead of her, already transferring Siobhán twenty quid with the description: I concede. Gemma hated admitting to losing, but it helped that it actually felt like she didn’t, not really.
***
It was a good thing that they hadn’t tried to make Friday work, because Gemma completely forgot she was supposed to have dinner with her mum and Alice. They’d decided on the Crown & Anchor, mostly because Gemma didn’t want her mum to pick some absurd place where they do interpretative dances as they bring the food out. One time, her mum wanted to do that for her birthday. Gemma had obliged, though she regretted it to this day.
“There’s no way,” Alice laughed when Gemma told her about the experience as they walked to the pub from where Alice parked around the corner.
“Believe it,” Gemma said. “Money can make people so weird.”
“Girls!” Bunny greeted, hugging Gemma and kissing her cheek.
Gemma squirmed out of her grip. “Hi, Mum.” She immediately felt better as she watched Alice gracefully evade the hug and go in for the handshake. The look on her mother’s face was priceless.
“Hello,” Alice greeted, awkward, and, yes, charming. Gemma couldn’t help but think it.
“Hi, Alice!” her mum squeezed her hand tight, quickly turning her rejected hug into the world’s longest handshake. “So good to see you.”
“Likewise,” Alice said, taking her hand back. “Shall we?” She got the door. “After you.”
Gemma grinned at her on the way in. Alice rolled her eyes.
***
It wasn’t the worst dinner ever.
The food was good, and Gemma’s mum talked most of the time which meant that Gemma was free to listen, enjoy the growing horror in Alice’s eyes as she learned about Bunny’s many failed hobbies that littered the various rooms in the house and the garden: upholstery, pottery, artistic shrubbery, wood carving, paper-making, and those were just the last five. It also meant that Gemma could check her phone periodically. She was disappointed to find no bantr notifications, but tried not to show it on her face. Any time she mentioned dating, her mum felt the need to say how much she liked queer people and how many of her friends also had gay children. It could be a lot.
By the time Gemma was almost done with her second beer and had finished her food, though, and her mum was meticulously recounting her wood-carving class to Alice, who looked like she might actually fall asleep, Gemma caved.
Gemma knew the message would take a second to send because she didn’t have very good service right now. She put her phone back in her purse, tuning back into watching Alice valiantly try to act as if she gave a fuck about Bunny’s crusade to get the crown-moulding refurbished.
Alice looked relieved when her phone vibrated. “Sorry, one second,” she said with the air of somebody who hoped it would take many seconds.
Gemma bit her lip around a smile, hiding it by taking a sip of her beer. She watched as Alice checked the screen, how she smiled to herself for a second.
"I’ll respond to it later,” she said quickly, putting it back in her pocket.
“Who is it?” Bunny asked. She had absolutely no qualms with being nosy.
Gemma tried her best not to make a face.
“Oh, um.” Alice actually blushed. “This woman I’ve been talking to, actually.”
"Oh, fun!” Gemma’s mum said, and Gemma knew what was coming next. “I have so many gay friends!”
Alice’s mouth opened and then closed, like she wasn’t sure how to reply to that. “Oh, cool?”
“And a lot of my friends have gay kids too,” Bunny added helpfully. “You know, just like Gemma is gay.”
“Oh my God, Mum!” Gemma groaned.
Alice laughed. “Right. Of course. That's nice."
“Just respond to her,” Gemma encouraged, even as it made her gut twist. She hadn’t realized Alice was single. She thought— well, the last she heard Alice had been in quite a long-term relationship, which was one of the reasons why Gemma told herself nothing would ever happen between them. If she’d known— Gemma shook off the thought. “Otherwise my mum won’t stop.”
“I’m not doing anything!” Bunny protested. “Just expressing my love and respect for the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and otherwise queer community.”
“Mum, you can just say LGBTQ,” Gemma reminded her, trying to ignore how Alice was biting her knuckle so she wouldn’t laugh too hard, replying to whatever woman she was talking to with the other hand. Gemma wondered if it was possible to drown in her pint. Or start a fight again and be arrested and request to be put in a separate cell from her mother.
Alice finished typing the message and hit send. “Okay, done,” she said. “Sorry, it’s just this stupid bantr interface—“
Gemma’s phone chimed in her purse with the bantr sound.
Alice’s eyes jumped to Gemma.
Gemma froze. It could just be a coincidence, right? She grabbed her phone, looking at the preview: Sorry to hear that. Currently at quite the dinner with a friend and her mum. I’ll tell you all about it later. She’s listing the letters she knows in LGB…
The rest of the message disappeared past the preview line. But that wasn’t just the sort of thing that everybody talked about at dinner.
Gemma stared down at her phone, the pieces falling into place: the Virginia Woolf quote on Alice’s desk; why she of all people wouldn’t want to share what football team she supported; she was from South London—
“I have to go fix my lipstick. Alice, would you like to come with me.” Gemma announced. She meant for it to sound like a question, but it came out as a statement.
“Yes. That sounds good,” Alice said quickly, gaze still locked on Gemma, a look of total shock on her face.
“I have to use the toilet,” Bunny agreed. “Let’s all go!”
“In that case, Mum, you go.” Gemma was surprised by the firmness in her voice. “I’d like to speak with Alice alone.”
Bunny looked between them, clearly not understanding. “Um, alright, dear.” Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood.
Gemma didn’t even watch her stand, still holding eye contact with Alice. It was like nobody else was in the pub. “And Mum?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Take your time please.”
“Okay,” her mum said, clearly not understanding. “Okay, I will.” For once, she seemed to understand that something serious was happening.
The second she was out of earshot, Alice spoke.
“Ted and Beard made me,” she blurted out. “I didn’t want to, but they said they wouldn’t activate unless I did it with them, so I did. And I mean honestly, I didn’t even expect to get any matches. I’m sorry—“
“You’re sorry?” Gemma interrupted, her heart twisting up in her ribcage at the apology. “What on Earth are you sorry about?”
Alice scratched at her neck under the collar of her sweater, all nervous, so very Alice. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly— my profile is, like, a better version of me.”
Gemma frowned. She couldn’t help how her eyes stung a little bit at the words. “That’s not true,” she said quietly. It felt like something she had to say, something she had to make Alice understand. “You’re— you. Both versions of you are the same.”
Gemma couldn’t believe this— that the woman she thought she’d been falling for over this stupid app was the same one that she’d been crushing on for the last few months. It felt ridiculous. And serendipitous. And terrifying.
“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” Alice said quietly. “That’s all. Because—“ she swallowed. “Because I actually really like you, Gemma. Have, for a long time now. Even before this whole bantr thing.”
“Alice.” Gemma reached across the table, placing her hand on top of hers. Her heart pounded. Alice— Alice had liked her for a while? “I am….” She couldn’t help but laugh. “The furthest thing from disappointed. I like you too.” Her lips twitched as she echoed her. “Have, for a long time. Even before this whole bantr thing.”
Alice turned her hand over to tangle their fingers. “Yeah?” Her mouth was curling into a smile, one of those that was softly smug in a way that made Gemma want to kiss her. She was going to— later, away from the pub, away from her mum, away from the few fans she could see peeking at them, though their view was obstructed because Mae gave them the corner booth.
“Yeah.” Gemma nodded. She squeezed Alice’s hand. She bit her lip around a grin. “So, what football team was it that you supported?”
Alice huffed in amusement, soft, careful. It was the best sound in the world. “Still fourth date material, Jay.”
“Can this count as the first, then?” Gemma asked. “Even though we did it all in reverse by having my mum here.”
“I’ll allow it,” Alice agreed, her eyes bright with something new, something real. Something like adoration, the kind she didn’t feel like she had to hide anymore. “Can we still go to that place on Sunday? The chicken looked really good.”
“Of course.” Gemma laughed. “I’d love to.” She wanted to go on a proper first date, even if she was going to count this as a pseudo-first. If that was because she wanted to know exactly what it would be like to be in Alice’s bed quicker— well, that was her business. Besides, she’d known Alice for years. Trusted her without question. Well, except for one: “Hey, can I ask— what does and opens the door mean?”
Alice grinned, kicking her lightly under the table. “Remember? Yes and, baby?"
Oh my God. It clicked for Gemma in an instant: that the answer had been in Alice’s profile all along, just out of reach.
“Believe and win,” she said back, leaning down to press her lips to Alice’s knuckles.
Alice blushed furiously, nodding. “Believe and win.”