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Chapter Text

It's not like there's all that much going on in Baton Rouge on a Wednesday night, but Hannah Eaden can think of at least five things she would rather be doing than chaperoning fifteen teenage girls to a soccer game. Her portfolio detailing her time as a teacher’s aide is due next week, and usually it's like pulling teeth to sit down and focus on it, but right now it seems like a walk in the park.

It's not that she doesn't love the girls, it's more that she isn't super into sports. Like, at all. Hannah was always the one in high school who “had her period” every other week to get out of gym class. The male gym teachers never noticed. When she needed a physical education credit freshman year of college, she took a “meditation” course where she basically lay on a yoga mat for an hour three times a week “listening to her body.”

“It's just 90 minutes,” whispers the girl to her right, a senior named Natalie. Hannah's not supposed to have favorites, but she does. And she's not good at hiding it either. That's why, when word spread that Ms. Carpenter was too sick to make the trip, the team sent Natalie to beg Hannah to take them instead.

If Ms. Carpenter had asked, Hannah couldn't have said no, but she had been home with the flu since Monday, barely able to return texts or emails.

“Am I that obvious?” Hannah smirks.

“I saw the way you looked longingly at the beer cart,” Natalie teases. She isn't wrong, though. If it weren't a school thing—a Catholic school thing, at that—Hannah would be on at least her second by now.

“If you just like, explain to me what's going on, I'll be good,” Hannah says.

“You've seriously never seen a game?”

Hannah shakes her head. “I know the ball is supposed to go in the goal and I know Ms. Carpenter’s old student is on the team.”

“Her name is Baker, for starters,” Natalie laughs. What kind of first name is Baker? “She's a striker. A goal-scorer.”

“That's a good thing. You need goals to win.”

Natalie rolls her eyes. “Shut up and watch.”

After the whistle blows, it's actually pretty easy to follow. The team in the white is the USA, and when they have the ball, it is good. Duh. Baker (Hadley, Hannah learns soon enough) is usually the one closest to the goal, and she stands out because her dark olive skin contrasts with the white of her shirt, and her shiny ponytail looks like a literal pony’s tail, a fact that makes Hannah chuckle out loud when she notices.

They score some goals, and the girls go crazy, especially when Baker scores or helps someone else score (an assist, Natalie tells Hannah, which makes sense), which seems to happen a lot. Hannah doesn’t pay too much attention to who's doing what and where, but the scoreboard says 5-0 at halftime, which seems pretty good.

She jumps about two feet out of her seat when she feels a tap on her shoulder, but she recovers to turn around and smile at the woman behind her. Were the girls being too enthusiastic? Is that even possible at a sporting event? Hannah prepares herself to apologize for whatever she did wrong.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” the woman says. “I just noticed your shirt. Are you girls from St. Mary’s?”

Hannah hadn't brought a change of clothes to school because she hadn't known she’d be driving to New Orleans right after, so she's still wearing her uniform. It's not the first time she's been confused for a student, and it likely won't be the last. Ms. Carpenter always laughs and tells her to embrace it while she can.

“We are,” Hannah says, straightening her posture. “All these girls are on the soccer team. I'm their teacher—well, teacher’s aide.” It feels too complicated to explain to this woman who definitely did not ask that she's an education major in her last semester of college who has to put in a semester-long “internship” of sorts as a teacher-in-training  in her desired subject (English).

“I'm Ginny Hadley,” the woman says, sticking out her hand for Hannah to shake. “This is my husband, Jack. Our daughter, Baker, is on the team.” She beams while she talks, and Hannah finally figures out the connection. “She went to St. Mary’s.”

“Oh, right!” Hannah exclaims. “Yeah, the girls were really excited to watch her.”

“You all don't have to go right after the game, do you?” she asks. “I'm sure Baker would love to see them. Most of her friends left town for college, so they aren't here. I think she’d like knowing she has a supporters section. Is Ms. Carpenter here?”

“No, she's sick,” Hannah says. “I know she's super bummed to be missing out, though.”

“Please can we stay?” a girl named Chelsea begs, setting off a barrage of whines.

Hannah watches all hopes of a good night’s sleep vanish from her grasp as she finds herself nodding and agreeing. Their pleas are replaced by cheers and satisfied grins when the referee blows the whistle.

~

The team scores fewer goals in the second half, which Hannah assumes is a result of Baker being subbed off, but they don't let in any goals either, so the game ends 7-0. The girls clamor down to the front of their section, just within reach of the field so the players can sign their soccer balls and jerseys. Hannah follows behind, chatting with the Hadleys about St. Mary’s and LSU, where their son had graduated before Hannah started.

She loses track of Baker in the madness, but she silently rushes her to hurry the hell up so they can go. After checking her watch at least fifteen times, Hannah’s prayers are answered when she sees Baker jogging over to them, a wide grin on her face.

“Way to go, superstar!” her dad says, reaching down over the barrier to clasp her hand.

“Thanks, guys,” Baker says. Her eyes light up with recognition when she sees the students. “You guys came! I'm so thrilled. When I heard from Ms. C that she was sick, I was worried you wouldn't be able to make it.”

“Ms. Eaden is an angel,” Natalie proclaims, directing Baker’s attention to Hannah for the first time. Now that sparkling grin is directed at Hannah, and she doesn't know how to process it.

“Yeah, I, um, soccer,” Hannah stammers. Baker is way more beautiful up close than Hannah could have imagined, and if that's with a sheen of sweat and grass stains, Hannah hardly wants to know what running into Baker on the street on abnormal day would do to her.

“Are you helping with the team?” Baker asks, signing shirts without taking her eyes off Hannah.

“Not really,” Hannah says, collecting her thoughts. A yes or no question. That she can handle. “I'm Ms. Carpenter’s teaching assistant. I'm at LSU, graduating this month.”

“Oh, wow,” Baker says. “That's so cool. I'm graduating in the spring. I'm jealous you get to hang out with Ms. C all the time, though.”

Hannah smiles. “She's great. She brags about you all the time, but now I see why.”

“Baker!” one of the girls calls, getting her attention. “Which NWSL team do you want to play for?”

Baker giggles. “Well, if I get drafted, whichever team wants me. I have a lot of friends in Portland and Orlando, though, so one of those would be nice.”

“If?” Hannah asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Baker shrugs. “It's not a guarantee that anyone will get drafted.”

“Please, you're, like, the star of the team.”

Baker turns bright red, and she looks away. “What?”

“You scored like ten goals,” Hannah laughs.

“Two,” Baker corrects. “I—I’m not—this was my first cap.” She seems to recognize the blank look on Hannah’s face, because she continues. “My first appearance. For the National Team. I've never played in a game before.”

“Wait, you did all that in your first game ever? That's ridiculous!”

“I'm a striker,” Baker says, biting back a smile. “It's just my job. If I didn't score a goal, I would have felt like a failure.”

“Quite the debut,” Jack says proudly. “She’ll be a star soon enough. You should invest in a 22 jersey before they're sold out.”

Baker rolls her eyes, but she beams proudly. “They just give the rookies whatever numbers are left over,” she laughs. “Don't waste your money.”

“You should come train with us when you're home for Christmas!” A girl named Jamie suggests.

“I'd love to play with y'all,” Baker says. “Hey, um—” she looks at Hannah, who realizes she's struggling for a name.

“Hannah,” she says.

Baker smiles. “Let me give you my number and I'll text you when I'm back in town so we can work something out.”

“Oh, I'll be gone after next week,” Hannah says. “Ms. Carpenter has the same email, though.”

“Oh, yeah, um,” Baker says. “Well, you can just pass it on to her then.”

Hannah wants to argue again (didn't Baker just say she’d talked to Ms. Carpenter today? Surely they have some way to get in touch), but she stops herself. If a beautiful girl wants to give Hannah her number, she certainly isn't going to say no. She hands her phone over the barrier and Baker programs in her number.

“Text me so I have yours. And if you need any recommendations on where to go before you leave Baton Rouge forever, I'm your girl,” Baker assures her. “Thanks for coming, y’all! I feel so blessed.”

For some reason, that word brings Hannah back to earth. She needs to calm down. Of course Baker isn't asking for her number, she's giving her own for the sake of convenience. As far as Baker knows, Hannah is just a Catholic girl working at a Catholic school with her favorite teacher from her Catholic schoolgirl days. Not that it matters. For God’s sake, she’ll probably never even cross paths with her again.

~

After Hannah texts Baker just her name so she has it, she doesn't hear from her for a few weeks. She talks to Ms. Carpenter about meeting Baker, and Ms. Carpenter just rolls her eyes when she hears about Baker’s humble “if I get drafted” schtick. It doesn't come as any surprise to Hannah when she hears that Baker is a first-round favorite. But after that conversation, Hannah gets too busy to even think about the gorgeous brunette. Almost.

She spends her last few weeks as a college student quietly, which is preferable to the way she finished her time at Emory. She finalizes her portfolio, finishes her internship, follows Baker on Instagram (and pretends not to notice when Baker follows back almost immediately), graduates, and packs up her apartment to move home.

North Carolina isn't really home, of course, but if home is where the heart is, it isn't Louisiana anymore either. Her little sister, Joanie, went to the University of North Carolina a year after Hannah left for Emory, so Charlotte was a choice close to both of them, and her parents had decided to let both girls settle into college before moving at the end of Joanie’s sophomore year. Of course, the decision was before Hannah transferred to LSU, but it was too late to go back on their plans.

Hannah's friends had gone in all different directions since high school, so it only makes sense to look for jobs near her parents. Well, near enough to visit, but not near enough for day-to-day drop-ins. Hannah wouldn't have had nearly as great (and often terrifying) an experience in college if she’d been under her parents’ thumbs the whole time.

It feels almost serendipitous when Hannah gets a text from Baker on her way to an interview at a high school in Raleigh. It's a selfie of Baker and Ms. Carpenter, taken from an angle that would be unflattering to almost anyone, but Baker is apparently the exception.

“We were talking about you!” the text says. “Come back soon and visit!”

“I'll let you know when I'm back in town,” Hannah replies, including a few emojis at the end. You know, to keep it super casual. She goes into her interview shortly thereafter and doesn't see Baker’s response till later. A good thing, because it probably would have made her heart race even faster than it was already.

“Please do!” Baker says. “I feel like I still owe you coffee for making that cheering section happen at my first cap. It was probably the best day of my life thanks to you.”

“Haha, I’m sure the goals didn't hurt,” Hannah texts back. “But I'm happy I could help.”

~

Ms. Carpenter’s rule is not to add any students, even college students serving as teaching assistants, on social media till after they graduate, but two days after Hannah accepts her Facebook friend request, she gets one from Baker.

Hannah learns the easy stuff about Baker from her profile, like the fact that she attends Stanford University, she loves any movie with Reese Witherspoon or Drew Barrymore, she's in a sorority (Kappa Kappa Gamma, even though it takes a lot of photo-stalking to figure that out because Hannah still hasn't mastered the Greek alphabet), and she just looooves animals, especially her dog, Charlie. Hannah learns the easy stuff, the stuff Baker puts out into the world, but she doesn't learn the good stuff, the real stuff. She's not even sure why she wants to know so bad.

She starts to wonder if she had completely misjudged Baker and if she's secretly one of those girls Hannah can't stand who adds everyone she's ever met online so she can get more likes on her profile pictures. Then again, that doesn't explain her private Instagram with an almost-perfect 1:1 ratio of followers (weirdly low for someone of Baker’s beauty and growing fame) to following.

It also doesn't explain why, not 20 minutes after Hannah posts an announcement about being hired for a teaching position (much to her own chagrin and only for the benefit of extended family members), she has both a like and a text from Baker congratulating her on the new job.

“Yay for your big news! So happy for you. You're going to impact so many kid’s lives.”

Hannah is still trying to figure out what to say when Baker texts her again.

“OMG. Can't believe I sent that to a future English teacher. *Kids’!!!!! I promise I knew that. Here's hoping your students are more observant than me. Than I??? Let me stop before I embarrass myself even more.”

“You're too nice,” Hannah replies. “I'll keep my eyes peeled for your exciting news too. When is the draft?”

“January,” Baker replies. “Pray for me :)”

Hannah isn't quite sure what she's even supposed to be asking for, but she squeezes her eyes shut and says a little prayer anyway.

~

The best part about moving to Raleigh is being close enough that Joanie can visit for a weekend. The worst part is being close enough that Joanie can drop by unannounced and declare that she's staying for the weekend, any plans Hannah had (drinking wine and grading papers) be damned.

“Han,” Joanie whines from the living room. “What's your wifi password?”

“There's free wifi at Starbucks,” Hannah reminds her from her perch at the kitchen counter.

“Shut up, you love having me here,” Joanie says. “Can you hurry? The draft started like ten minutes ago.”

“What draft?”

Joanie sighs with exasperation. “The soccer one, Han. My friend Angie from school is probably going to go Top 10. God, do you even listen to me when I talk?”

“Maybe I would more if you weren't so annoying,” Hannah teases. “Give me your computer.”

“Just tell me what it is, I'm running up the data on my phone too.”

“Give me both.”

“Why are you so—oh my God, is it something embarrassing?” Hannah feels her face heat up. “It is! What is it, the name of that girl from Emory who—”

“It's not her name,” Hannah says.

Joanie throws her head back against the couch. “So what is it, the first time you lay eyes on her? Her favorite song? Her social sec—”

“Shut the fuck up, Joanie,” Hannah says through gritted teeth. “I'm serious.”

“Fine, geez,” Joanie grumbles. “You've gotta lighten up, Hannah, it was over a year ago.”

“Here,” Hannah says, practically throwing Joanie’s computer back in her lap.

“Hey,” Joanie whines. “You aren't going to watch with me?”

Her sister might be incredibly annoying and invasive, but that puppy dog pout does Hannah in every time. She looks over at the stack of papers waiting to be graded (she's been on the job two weeks , for God’s sake) and decides they can wait.

It only takes a few minutes of chatter from the commentators before Hannah's sees her. Baker is in the front row, shaking her leg and biting her lip nervously as she sits between her parents, who don't seem much calmer.

“Hey, I know her,” Hannah says.

“No you don't,” Joanie replies.

“Uh, yeah… I do. Baker Hadley.”

Joanie turns to look at her with wide eyes. “You know Baker Hadley? How?”

“How do you know who she is?” Hannah laughs. “Since when are you a soccer fan?”

“Since… okay, I'm not really, but she's like, really good. Like, probably going to go No. 1 good.”

“Sweet,” Hannah says. “I'll have to text her my congrats.” She smirks while Joanie looks at her, dumbfounded.

“I can't believe this, how did I not know?”

Hannah shrugs. “I don't tell you about every person I meet. She was Ms. Carpenter’s student. We’re Facebook friends. It's not like we’re actual friends or anything, I've met her once.”

“You could be actual friends if she comes here.”

“Why would she come here?”

“To play soccer? Duh?”

“We have a team here?”

“She hasn't mentioned it?”

“Oh my God, we've talked like three times tops. No, she hasn't mentioned it. I don't even think she knows where I live.”

“Yeah, you really should get better about updating your Facebook. It's exhausting to be the one all the family asks about what you're up to.”

“Shush, something’s happening,” Hannah says, fixing her eyes on the screen. Some guy walks onto the stage holding a small white slip of paper.

“With the first pick,” he says with a small smile, clearly milking this moment for all its worth. “In the first round of the 2018 NWSL College Draft, the North Carolina Courage select… Baker Hadley, Stanford University.”

Chapter Text

Baker getting on stage to make a short, eloquent speech after her name is called isn’t the last Hannah sees of her on the broadcast. During most of the downtime between picks (and there’s a lot of downtime), they’re either showing highlight videos or interviewing her. Her grin stays plastered to her face as she holds up a North Carolina Courage scarf and poses with her new coaches and teammates, but when Hannah catches glimpses of her in the background, she’s gnawing at her lip and crossing her arms across her chest protectively, like she isn’t completely comfortable with the attention.

“Well, aren’t you going to text your BFF Baker?” Joanie teases once her friend gets drafted (to the Seattle Reign in the seventh pick of the first round).

“She’s probably getting a million,” Hannah says as if she hasn’t been formulating the perfect text for the past 45 minutes. Finally, she settles on a simple “Congrats #1 draft pick!” She doesn’t get a response till long after the draft ends, just as she’s getting ready for a night out with Joanie. She’s not really expecting one at all, but that doesn’t stop her from checking her phone every ten minutes.

“Were you watching??” Baker says. “SO sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic. But you’re so sweet :)”

Sweet. That’s the word sorority girls use to describe the losers, desperate for approval, who let them borrow their completed study guides the night before an exam. But coming from Baker, and accompanied by a smiley face, Hannah thinks sweet might not be so bad.

Hannah explains that Joanie’s friend also got drafted and they were watching and it was a pleasant surprise to see Baker and blah blah blah. She rewrites it five times to make it less of an over-explaining novel, and finally settles on “my sister is friends with a girl named Angela from UNC, so we were watching together. She was very impressed that I have THE Baker Hadley’s personal cell phone number.”

“Hahaha, please,” Baker replies. “Angela Nguyen? She was my roomie at one of the U-20 camps a long time ago! She’s amazing. We were laughing earlier because she’s from California so we traded coasts for college and now we’re trading again. What’s your sister’s name?”

“Joanie,” Hannah replies. By now she’s two drinks in at an overpriced piano bar barely paying attention to whatever story Joanie’s telling loudly. “Are you excited for NC?” She knows it’s the alcohol that’s encouraging her to keep this conversation going instead of letting it find its natural end, but that knowledge isn’t enough to stop her.

“I’m kinda scared honestly,” Baker says a few minutes later. All the alcohol in the world couldn’t make Hannah reply to that one. She stares at her phone thinking about what she could possibly say until Joanie snatches it from her and throws it in her clutch.

“You’re with me. Pay attention to me now,” Joanie demands. “Come on, pay for my drinks. I’m taking you somewhere I think you’re going to like.”

That somewhere ends up being, for all intents and purposes, a very welcoming dive bar called Ruby Deluxe. Joanie pays at the door a “membership fee” for both of them and gets four offers for free drinks before they even reach the bar.

“I should have totally been a lesbian,” Joanie sighs. “What a shame.”

“We can trade,” Hannah says drily. “Clearly you’re better at it than I am.”

“You look uncomfortable to be here,” Joanie says, squeezing between bodies to sidle up to the bar. “You’re a hottie, Han. Own it. Right now it looks like I’m just dragging you along for the ride.”

“You kind of are.”

“No, I’m being your wingwoman,” Joanie says, batting her eyelashes at the bartender, who drops everything to be at their service. “Whiskey, neat, please,” she says sweetly. “And a gin and tonic for my sister, who is totally single, by the way.”

Hannah’s eyes widen, but she tries to hide her embarrassment and “own it” like Joanie advised.

“What a happy coincidence,” the bartender rasps. “So am I. I’m also off in twenty minutes if you two are planning on sticking around.”

“Great!” Joanie exclaims, clapping her hands together.

They leave ten minutes before closing time, Hannah with a new number belonging to “Skye” (just Skye, no last name) in her phone and a blossoming hickey on her neck.

“You totally could have gone home with her,” Joanie says. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“And let you have your way with my place? Not a chance in hell,” Hannah laughs, still slightly drunk and high on the feeling of making out with a girl for the first time in far too long.

When they crawl into her bed, whatever presence of mind she has left kicks in to remind her to charge her phone. When it lights up, she realizes she has three unread texts from Baker, and against her better judgment, she opens them and readies herself to sober up enough to give a good reply.

“Like I’m sure it’s a nice place, and I’m excited to start my career, I just don’t know anyone there,” she had written. “I’m not great with brand new people.”

The next text is more of the same. “Some of the rookies are already planning on living together but I’m going to be gone sometimes with the national team and I’m worried things will be weird or I’ll miss out on their bonding time and be the odd one out.”

Her final text, from just over an hour ago, says “I’m sorry for unloading all that on you haha… I really am super appreciative of the chance.”

“Sorry I didn’t naswer,” Hannah types without thinking. “I was out iwht Joanie but dude thattoalyy makes sense,” Hannah types without thinking. “But I live in NC so u do know soemone :) and youre so prettyand nice you’ll make friends in no time.”

She sets her phone on the nightstand and rolls over with a smile on her face, smugly satisfied that she made so much sense in the midst of being tipsy and tired.

That smugness fades as soon as she wakes up and checks her phone to see a new text from Baker and rereads the super sensible text she sent the night before.

“I hope you had a fun night ;)” Baker had replied. “I didn’t know you were in NC! Where? That actually does make me feel a little better. The compliments were nice too.” She capped it off with a red heart emoji, which everyone knows is the only real heart emoji there is. Then again, maybe straight girls don’t overthink every interaction with other girls the way Hannah does.

“Oh my God, did you drunk text her?” Joanie laughs when she sees what Hannah is staring at, horrified. “Smooth.”

“Shut up,” Hannah grumbles, racking her foggy brain for some way to recover.

“You might want to do something about that huge-ass mark on your neck, by the way,” Joanie sing-songs, sounding much less hungover than Hannah feels as she hops out of bed. “Mom and Dad are going to be here in like two hours for lunch.”

The concealer will have to wait till after Hannah has dug herself out of this hole. “I’m so embarrassed,” Hannah types. “I promise I’m not usually that bad. Joanie is a bad influence. I live in downtown Raleigh though. And the compliments are still true.”

“Good to know,” Baker shoots back. “We play so close to you! We’ll have to hang out, that’s such a cool coincidence :)”

“For sure,” Hannah agrees, knowing full well how this goes. She’ll see Baker maybe once or twice max before they completely fall off each other’s radars. Still, as silly as she feels for caring this much about someone she only met once, it’s better than never seeing her again.

~

Everyone told Hannah being single in a city is the best way to start adulthood, but she’s not convinced. Her teacher friends are great for a glass of wine or a bitch session after school, but dating doesn’t come as easily to Hannah as it does for them. She only goes to Ruby when Joanie is around (“I bought you a damn membership, Han, you ought to use it!”), and she meets people, but nobody she feels like she can call just to hang out or watch a movie at home. Besides, the majority of the women she meets are already spoken for.

She embraces the silence the best she can, but she misses her group of friends from Emory more now than she ever did during her semester at LSU, though she doubts they think of her much at all.

It doesn’t help that she can’t stop thinking about Baker. She’s made it a rule never to text Baker first, knowing it’s just a slippery slope that leads to a full-on crush that leads to inevitable anguish. “Rule No. 1,” her own voice echoes in her head. “Never fall for a straight girl. Or a girl who might be straight. Just… don’t fall for anyone at all, that’s your best bet.”

That doesn’t stop Baker from texting her, though. It starts out sporadically, maybe once a week. Hannah never knows when to expect it, but Baker has a million questions about Raleigh, about North Carolina, things Hannah never would have thought to ask. Sometimes the texts come after midnight, always followed by an immediate apology about how Baker forgot about the time difference.

As pre-season nears, though, the texts come more and more frequently. Until finally, one day it’s a phone call on a Thursday afternoon.

“Hello?” Hannah answers, trying to sound as casual as she can. She’s on her way to Chapel Hill for a long weekend with Joanie, taking her very first day off after her principal chided her for not taking advantage of what little time off she is allotted.

Baker’s voice crackles in over the speakers in Hannah’s car. “Hi, Hannah?” she says. “It’s Baker. Hadley.”

Hannah smiles. “I know who you are. What’s up?”

Baker laughs. “Right, um, this is sort of awkward, but I had a question and thought it would be easier to explain over the phone. Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, I’m just in the car, what’s going on?”

“Well, you know I’m—my parents are—we’re Catholic. And I know it probably sounds silly, but it’s important to them that I find, like, a church? So, I know you were at St. Mary’s, but I didn’t know if that meant—just, do you know anyone who goes to church there?”

“Um, well, sort of,” Hannah says. “I’m Catholic, too. And that’s totally not weird. It was important to my parents too. And me, I guess. Um, we’ve been to one nearby a few times. I wouldn’t say I go there go there, but I’d be happy to get you the info, or like, go with you sometime.”

“Oh my gosh, that would be amazing,” Baker gushes. “Sorry for being awkward about it, it’s just, I don’t know, a lot of the people I spend most of my time with get weird about the religion thing.”

“Not awkward at all,” Hannah reassures her. “The church is walking distance from my place, so it’s pretty convenient.”

“That actually leads me to my next question,” Baker says. “My parents and I are coming into town to apartment hunt this weekend. I know it’s super last minute and you probably already have plans, but I wanted to check out the area you were telling me about where you live. Will you be around?”

“Yes!” Hannah replies without thinking. She cringes immediately, knowing Joanie is going to be pissed at the change of plans. “I can, uh, move some things around in my schedule for you. You can  come see my apartment and I can show you guys around a little bit. When are you getting here?”

“Oh my gosh, that would be amazing,” Baker says. “Please don’t move anything for us, but we’re getting in late tomorrow night and leaving Sunday afternoon. Any time that works for you works for us.”

“Okay, great,” Hannah says. “How about Saturday morning?”

“That works!” Baker replies. “Seriously, I am so thankful for you putting up with me and my constant questions. I promise I’ll take you out for a drink, or like, a five-course meal as soon as I’m in town for preseason.”

Hannah laughs. “It’s my pleasure,” she says.

“I’ve gotta get to class, but I’ll text you so we can figure out Saturday. Thanks so much again!”

“It’s really no problem,” Hannah repeats before Baker clicks off the line, her car flooding with the same emo music that had been playing before. She presses the radio button and flips to the only local station she knows, the one playing all the hits. It’s probably the kind of music Baker likes: upbeat and fun and carefree. It’s the kind of music Hannah would listen to all the time if she were in love, probably.

~

Joanie flips between angry to happy faster than Hannah’s ever seen when she breaks the news about their weekend plans over dinner. She’s pissed when Hannah tells her she’s only spending the night, but when she hears why, she’s thrilled.

“I ship it,” she declares. “Women’s soccer players are mostly gay anyway. Hannah and Baker, sitting in a tree…”

“I could leave right now and not come back,” Hannah deadpans, shutting Joanie up. Joanie could tease Hannah till the cows come home, but she wouldn’t let anything stand between her and a free meal.

Hannah’s apartment was brand new when she moved in, but she doesn’t think it’s ever been more spotless than it is after she spends her whole day Friday straightening up and cleaning it for Baker’s visit. She even runs to the corner store for sunflowers to display on her kitchen counter and arranges all her candles so they look like there’s some rhyme or reason to their presence.

Baker announces her presence Saturday morning in a text, and Hannah fires back a quick “be right down!” before bouncing down four flights of stairs and emerging out the front door into unseasonably warm weather (75 degrees in early March isn’t too shabby, she thinks proudly to herself, as if she’s trying to sell Raleigh to them).

“Hey!” Baker exclaims, throwing her arms around Hannah in a friendly hug that feels right despite the fact that they’ve never even touched before, save for maybe their fingers brushing when Hannah gave Baker her phone. She would have noticed that, though, she thinks. “You’ve met my parents, Ginny and Jack.”

“Great to see you again,” Hannah says, shaking their hands warmly. It feels like a chore to take her eyes off Baker, who is even more beautiful than Hannah remembers. Her hair is in a long, silky ponytail, and her long, dark eyelashes stand out against the whites of her eyes. She’s the kind of beauty that wastes money on daily makeup to get a “natural glow,” but Hannah has seen her night-out pictures, and even if Baker is only ever a friend, she hopes to God one day she will show her how to do winged eyeliner. “How was your flight?”

“Ginny and Baker aren’t great with flying,” Jack says. “So the fact that we made it without any major luggage crisis is a miracle in itself.”

“I’m not that bad!” Baker insists. “Traveling for soccer has made me way better. But that 50-pound weight limit is a joke.”

“Totally,” Hannah agrees. “Are you supposed to choose between nice shoes and shoes that are comfortable to walk in?”

Baker grins. “You get me. See? She gets me.”

“Finally someone does,” Jack teases.

~

Hannah shows them the lobby, the pool (which she’s never seen anyone use, but she hasn’t been there in summer yet), the gym (which Baker will probably never have a need for), and all the amenities Hannah still has yet to take advantage of before bringing them to her apartment.

“This is a one-bedroom, so if you’re still planning on having a roommate, this will look different, but you kinda get the picture,” Hannah says when she opens the door. She opened her blinds to let the sun streak through, so she only turns on the kitchen lights to call attention to the light fixtures over the bar.

“I’m going to live with Sam, one of my teammates,” Baker says. “She’s a veteran, but she’s on the national team, so hopefully it’ll all work out a little better.”

“Cool, cool,” Hannah says. “I haven’t really gotten around to decorating yet, but it’s a work in progress.”

“You have a balcony!” Baker exclaims, heading straight toward the door outside to the balcony overlooking the building’s courtyard. “This is gorgeous!”

“It’s even prettier at night when all the lights in the courtyard are on,” Hannah says. “I don’t have chairs out there yet, but hopefully I will before summer. My teacher’s salary limits me a little bit.”

“Can I see your room?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Hannah says, walking to her bedroom and turning on the light. She had made her bed and opened the blinds to let the light into that room as well.

“It’s so big,” Baker says in awe.

“Anything would feel big after the matchbox you’ve been living in at school,” Ginny reminds her.

“Yeah, that’s why I hate the tours of unfurnished apartments,” Hannah says. “The rooms look so small, but once you put furniture in, they really open up.”

“This closet is insane!” Baker gasps, already moving on past the bathroom. “And this is a great tub. I love baths.”

“Me too,” Hannah says. “I have a whole drawer of stuff from Lush. My only requirement in my future home is a Jacuzzi tub.”

“Sounds like you’ve met your match, B,” Ginny laughs. Her words light a fire in Hannah’s chest, somewhere between her heart and her stomach. “That and a big yard for Charlie to run around in.”

Baker pouts. “Don’t remind me.” She looks up at Hannah and sighs. “Charlie is my dog. Leaving him home with them for four years was so hard, and I can’t even bring him with me now.”

“You can have dogs here!” Hannah says brightly.

Baker turns to her parents with pleading eyes, but they shake their heads with identical smirks.

“You know he’d be miserable if you left every other week for road games and camps,” Jack reminds her. “He’s a very happy boy, even missing you as much as he does.” He turns to Hannah. “He still sleeps in Baker’s room, and if we try to change anything about it, he freaks out.”

“That’s my boy,” Baker says proudly. “Always looking out for me.”

“How are the noise levels?” Jack asks, getting back to business. “Baker and Sam will need a good night’s sleep before game days.”

“Dad,” Baker whines, rolling her eyes.

“I totally get it,” Hannah laughs. “That’s why I chose a courtyard-facing apartment. I don’t have to deal with street noise, and people don’t really hang out in the courtyard at night. The worst thing is the damn train.” She turns pink, realizing her mistake. “Sorry, I mean, the train. It doesn’t wake me up or anything at night, but I hear it sometimes early in the mornings when I’m between snooze cycles on my alarm, which gets frustrating.

Ginny laughs. “We have a few damn trains of our own,” she says with a wink. “This is a beautiful apartment, Hannah, thank you so much for letting us poke around.”

“Can we take you out for lunch to thank you?” Jack asks. “I can almost hear Baker’s stomach growling.”

“Are you sure it’s not you?” Baker teases.

“You’re the athlete, you’re supposed to be my scapegoat,” he jokes back.

“You don’t have to take me anywhere,” Hannah says. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Oh, come on,” Baker says, linking her arm through Hannah’s and pulling her toward the door. “No point in arguing with them. Plus, you were the one who mentioned the teacher’s salary. Are you really in a place to turn down a free meal?”

Hannah had to admit Baker had her there. Even if she didn’t, Hannah doesn’t think she can say no to Baker when she’s this close and she can smell her perfume… or is it shampoo? She can’t tell, but she wants to keep smelling it.

~

After showing them around her neighborhood on foot, the Hadleys walk Hannah back to her apartment, thanking her profusely for all her help.

“Thanks for lunch,” Hannah says, putting her hand out for Mr. Hadley—Jack—to shake. Instead, he pulls her into a hug.

“I know Baker can take care of herself, but I’m so glad she has a friend like you here,” he says. “It makes me feel a lot better about her going to yet another new place.”

“And thank you for the church recommendation too,” Ginny says, leaning in for her own hug. “Our faith is so important to us, and it’s a comfort to know God put you in Baker’s path.”

Hannah tries to shake the pit in her stomach at the warmth in Ginny’s voice, but she can’t until Baker hugs her as well.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Baker says, squeezing her tight. Hannah breathes in her smell one last time before she lets go.

“No problem,” Hannah says. “Good luck with the rest of your apartment search.”

“I’ll text you!” Baker promises. Her grin imprints itself on Hannah’s brain, and she can’t shake it no matter how many times she tries to blink it away.

Hannah spends the rest of the day in her spotless apartment, candles burning, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell she let herself get this deep.

~

The phone call she gets the next morning doesn’t do much to quell her uneasiness.

“Come outside,” Baker says as soon as Hannah answers. “To your balcony.”

“What are you talking about?” Hannah asks, but she rolls out of bed and does as she’s told. As soon as she opens her door, she hears her name. She turns to the sound and sees Baker one floor up, standing on a balcony across the courtyard, waving like a maniac.

“Are you getting a real tour?” she asks.

Baker grins, holding up her other hand. Hannah can’t see, but she can hear the keys jangling through the phone.

“Is that your apartment?”

“Please don’t think I’m stalking you!” Baker says. “We weren’t super impressed by the other places we went yesterday, and this area is safe and I’ll be able to have my car here. Sam looked it up online and told us to go ahead and sign a lease.”

Hannah laughs. “Welcome to the neighborhood!” she says. “And for the record, I could think of much worse people to be stalked by.”

Chapter Text

The weekend Baker moves in—naturally—is the weekend Hannah chaperones the senior trip to Carowinds. Baker sends pictures of the apartment coming together, but Hannah doesn’t get any of them until she finally re-enters civilization on Sunday afternoon.

“Looks amazing!” she texts. “Sorry, I had no service. I hope you’re settling in. I’m going to need a major shower and a power nap when I get home, but I’ll stop by later if you’re around.”

“Later” ends up being 4 a.m. Monday when Hannah finally wakes up from that “power nap,” so a visit to Baker’s apartment isn’t in the cards. She can’t fall back to sleep, though, and there’s nowhere for her restless energy to go, so she laces up her shoes and heads down to the gym for a quick run on the treadmill.

She almost has a heart attack when she hears the door open two miles into her run for several reasons, not the least of which is the fact that she had been performing a full-on Nicki Minaj concert just moments before, but apparently someone else had the same idea to work out at this godforsaken time.

The absurdly tall strawberry-blonde girl smiles at Hannah as she takes to the treadmill next to her. She looks familiar for some reason, but Hannah can’t place her. When her double take turns into a triple take, the girl takes out her earbuds and smiles. “I’m new to the building,” she says.

“Oh,” Hannah says, slowing down to a quick walk. “I, um, sorry, I wasn’t—”

“Sam,” the girl says, and then it clicks.

“You’re Baker’s roommate!” Hannah exclaims.

“So you must be Hannah,” Sam laughs. She’s still running at a decent pace and yet doesn’t seem to be panting at all. Hannah decides she hates her. Or admires her. Or both. “Baker has raved about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Hannah says, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you a soccer fan?”

“Uh, no, not really,” Hannah says. If her face could turn redder than it does after any intense physical activity, it probably would. She doesn't even know this girl’s last name, and she's probably actually famous.

“We can fix that,” Sam laughs. “Hang out with Baker long enough and you won't have a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“She's super passionate about anything she loves,” Sam says. “Soccer, her dog, flossing.”

Hannah smiles. That explains the Crest strip commercial grin. “Noted,” she says. Her phone’s alarm cuts through the music coming out of the one earbud that's still in her ear. “Oh, crap. I better go shower,” she says. “Have a good workout. It was nice meeting you!”

“Yeah, you too,” Sam says. “Oh, Hannah! I don't know if Baker told you yet, but we’re having a movie night Saturday. A few of our teammates are coming to celebrate the end of the first week of preseason, but you're more than welcome to join.”

“Oh, cool,” Hannah says. “I'll make sure to text Baker about that.”

She doesn't even get the chance to do so before Baker texts her just before first period.

“Sammy told me you met this morning! Jealous she saw you before I did. Training starts today and I might be literally dead by the end of our second session today (and every day after), but I'll try to rally for movie night Saturday. Please come!”

“Sure thing, chicken wing,” Hannah shoots back without even thinking about it. She cringes as soon as she presses send. It’s something she would say to Joanie, so it’s almost second nature, but Baker is… Baker.

Innocent Baker, who gave her number to a girl who she met randomly at a soccer game where she didn’t seem to realize her star power had just gone through the roof. Trusting Baker, who jumped into a friendship with Hannah without a second thought. Impulsive Baker, who signed a lease less than 24 hours after seeing the building. Fun Baker, who replies to Hannah’s dumb text with… a chicken emoji?

Hannah finds herself smiling uncontrollably as the bell rings and students begin to flood her classroom. At least boring Baker won’t be a problem.

~

It’s Saturday night and Joanie is fed up.

“Han, you look great in anything, and if they’re watching a movie the lights are literally going to be off,” she sighs, exasperated as she watches Hannah try on everything in her closet via FaceTime. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an actual date you’re supposed to help me get ready for.”

“Luke likes anything that shows off your tits.”

“Excuse me,” Joanie says, feigning offense, but she looks down at her cleavage and shrugs. “You’re right. I’m getting laid regardless. You, on the other hand, are probably barking up the wrong tree, but if her teammates are going to be around, you’re bound to find a handful who are into the ladies.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” Hannah says drily. “You look hot, go have fun.”

“Will do!” Joanie sings. “Love you, mean it!”

Hannah finally settles on a mix between casual and cute (and, naturally, the first thing she had even tried on), dark jeans with brown boots and a flannel top. It doesn’t scream gay, but hopefully it raises a few eyebrows in the room. She grabs the bottle of champagne she bought for the occasion (she couldn't spring for the expensive stuff, but she's proud she went a step above the cheapest option) and goes upstairs to knock on Baker’s door.

Sam flings it open with a huge smile on her face and red Solo cup in hand. Hannah can tell the party has already gotten started. “Heyyyy!” she greets Hannah. “Come on in!”

“You came!” Baker exclaims when she sees Hannah. “I was just about to text you.” Baker went straight for cute with her outfit, a romper that slouches at her shoulders to just barely reveal her bra strap. She tugs at it to pull it back into place before hugging Hannah. “You didn't have to bring anything!”

“I wanted to,” Hannah says. Baker smells different, but Hannah can still smell the vanilla of her shampoo when they hug, so she knows she must be wearing perfume this time. “Welcome to the building.”

“You're too sweet,” Baker says, taking the champagne bottle from her. “The apartment tour will have to wait, I have people for you to meet!”

Baker is a natural hostess, offering Hannah a drink before parading her around to meet all the girls. Being a teacher has made Hannah great with names, so she easily tucks away Lynn and Taylor and Jess and Abby and Sabrina for future use. Baker makes quick introductions for those who show up after Hannah, but she seems eager to get the movie started (and not lose the spots she saved for herself and Hannah on the loveseat).

They choose a movie based on a vote between a romantic comedy and a thriller. Baker and Sam recuse themselves from voting, but Hannah can tell Baker’s choice by the momentary pout on her face when the thriller wins out.

Still, Baker seems to get into the movie after a few minutes, using the blanket thrown over the couch’s arm to cover her eyes during a few suspenseful moments.

“Nothing’s going to jump out at you, B, it's not that kind of movie,” Lynn laughs, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, a door onscreen creaks open and the murderer pops out, making Baker jump a foot in the air.

“I hate you!” she exclaims, throwing a piece of popcorn at Lynn, who catches it in her mouth while everyone else laughs. “You all suck.”

It doesn't take long after that for everyone to stop paying attention and start drinking more. Everyone but Baker, anyway, who seems determined to see it out. Hannah can see her getting more and more frustrated with the chatter and side activities. Abby and Sam have even started a game of Skip-Bo on the floor.

Hannah is torn between wanting to spend more time with Baker and wanting to tear herself away before she can pay any more attention to Baker’s leg brushing her own, but her own huge yawn makes the decision for her.

“Are you tired?” Baker asks, eyes wide with concern.

“A little,” Hannah says. “I think I'm going to head home.”

Baker looks around at the group of girls, which has someone grown from 6 or 7 people to almost the entire team. “Can I come with you?” she whispers.

Hannah raises an eyebrow. “I, uh, yeah,” she says. “If you want to?”

“If you're just going to sleep and want to be alone that's fine,” Baker says.

“No, of course you're more than welcome,” Hannah says, her heart racing. Maybe Baker’s intention in inviting her tonight really was to spend more time together… alone. No. She shakes the thought from her head, reminding herself Sam was the one who invited her to begin with.

“I'm sorry, I was not nearly drunk enough for that,” Baker says once they get to Hannah’s apartment. Hannah cringes when she remembers what a mess her bathroom is from her outfit meltdown, and she prays silently that she has the chance to throw all her clothes into the closet and close the door before Baker has to use the bathroom.

“Then maybe you should have had more,” Hannah teases.

“Preseason,” Baker says, shrugging. “I give myself a one-drink limit.”

“And you wasted that on a glass of champagne?” Hannah laughs.

Baker smiles. “Well, yeah,” she says. “It was from you.”

Hannah doesn't know how to react to that, but that's nothing new when it comes to Baker. “Um, can I get you a water or something?” Hannah asks.

“Yes, please,” Baker answers with a smile. “Also, this is a weird request, but can we turn that movie on?”

“I didn't think you liked it.”

“Oh, I hated it,” Baker says, fumbling with Hannah’s remotes as she tries to figure out how to access Netflix. “But if I don't see the end of scary movies they give me bad dreams. I fell asleep right before the end of Titanic the first time I saw it, like right after they hit the iceberg, and I had nightmares for a month. I need closure, I guess.”

“I get that,” Hannah says, handing Baker her glass of water before moving to turn the lights off.

“Wait, can you leave them on?” Baker asks, cringing. “I don't really want to watch it, I just need to know what happens. We can talk and stuff.”

Hannah laughs but does as directed, putting her hands up in surrender as she walks to the living room, where Baker has already found the point they were at in the movie. She settles onto the couch beside the loveseat where Baker has curled up. “Whatever you want.”

“Sorry for the chaos,” Baker says. “You know how it goes, you invite a couple of people and then it's this huge thing.”

“It's nice having a built-in group of friends,” Hannah says.

“Yeah, you're right,” Baker says, nodding her agreement. “A little overwhelming, though. I just want to know where I'm going to fit in with the team. I like all the girls, but some you just click with more than others.”

“What about Sam? She seems nice.”

“Oh, Sam is great,” Baker nods. “I just don't want to be cliquey with her and Lynn because of the whole national team thing. Jess is in the mix too, along with some other girls. I just get nervous, I guess.”

“Why? Because you're good?”

Baker blushes. “Stop.”

“Stop with the modesty,” Hannah says. “You're good.”

“I know,” Baker says. “But I was also in the right place at the right time, and my parents were able to pay for a lot of youth development stuff because I loved playing soccer. It's a combination of things.”

“You work really hard,” Hannah reminds her. “Your Instagram stories are always at the gym.”

“Oh my God, I’m so obnoxious,” Baker groans.

“Stop, you are not,” Hannah says, curling her legs underneath her. “You're like the least insufferable person I know.”

“Well that's a glowing review of your friends,” Baker laughs.

Hannah smiles. “I mean, I spend most of my time with my little sister, who was put on this earth to drive me completely insane, and she takes her job very seriously.”

“I always wanted a sister,” Baker says. “I just have an older brother. Who's great, don't get me wrong, we just never had that bond, you know?”

Hannah nods. She knows how lucky she is to have Joanie, and she's been reminded of that almost daily for the past year, which has brought them closer than ever before.

“I'm really glad I didn't scare you away by being overly forward,” Baker says suddenly. “I'm just, like, a big believer in signs, I guess. And I'm really good at assessing people’s personalities. Not to mention, you came with a glowing review from Ms. Carpenter, who's the best person I know.”

“So you assessed me?” Hannah teases. “What did you find?”

“Nope,” Baker says, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “Not drunk enough for that either.”

“I'll tell you yours if you tell me mine,” Hannah bargains.

Baker narrows her eyes like she's weighing the legitimacy of the offer. “Fine,” she says. “Pour me a glass of wine, though.”

“What happened to one drink?” Hannah asks as she gets up to uncork a bottle of Cabernet.

“I’m testing your abilities as a hostess,” Baker says. “But I really do want that wine.”

Once they're both settled back into their places, Baker faces Hannah and takes a long sip of her wine before placing it down on the corner table.

“You're selfless,” Baker says finally. “You took a bunch of girls to my soccer game even though you couldn't have been more bored.”

“That's not true!” Hannah protests.

“I'm not offended,” Baker laughs. “You looked like you wanted to die. But you put on a happy face and let the girls stay late. And that made their night, but it also made mine, and you didn't even know me. You didn't have to do that.”

“I mean, I wanted the brand new team superstar’s autograph too,” Hannah says.

“I can potentially arrange that,” Baker says. “Now quit interrupting me, there's way more.”

Hannah mimes zipping her lips and leans on the arm of the sofa to listen.

“You can't get creeped out because part of this is from lurking on your social media.”

“I’m just as guilty. Go on.”

“Well, you're beautiful, but you're going to get even more beautiful with age because your mom is a fox. But that's not why I want to be your friend, that would be shallow.”

Hannah tries to bite back a grin, and Baker just smiles and shakes her head.

“I like that you said ‘damn’ in front of my parents the first time you met them, and I like that you brought champagne as a housewarming gift. I like that you like dogs and Sara Bareilles, and I was hoping you'd let me borrow that hammock you take hiking in your scenic Instagram pictures.”

“How far back did you go?” Hannah asks, trying to sound lighthearted, but feeling a bit uneasy. She's sure she cleared most of her social media of things she wouldn't want Baker to see long before they ever met, but she could have missed some things.

“I didn't creep that hard,” Baker says, rolling her eyes. “Your prom dress was beautiful though.” She winks.

Hannah groans. “No you didn't.”

“Sure I did,” Baker laughs. “I had to make sure you weren't a serial killer.”

“Me? You're the one who came to my apartment the second time I met you.”

“And the third,” Baker giggles. “But you did your due diligence on me too. What did you find?”

“You're crazy talented, you're gorgeous even when you're sweating your ass off in the Louisiana heat, you have great taste in apartments, you're annoyingly humble, and worst of all, I'm pretty sure it's all genuine.”

Baker smiles, pressing her lips together. “So the drunk compliments weren't just a fluke.”

“They definitely were not.”

Baker bites her lip and looks down, and Hannah can't help the places her mind goes, especially after two glasses of champagne and one glass of red wine.

She pictures herself tucking that stray piece of loose brown hair behind Baker’s ear, forcing Baker to meet her eyes before leaning in to kiss her. It would be soft at first, just testing the waters, but eventually Baker would be biting Hannah’s lip the way she's biting her own.

“I like that you're Catholic.” Baker’s voice pierces through Hannah’s fantasy, and she tears her eyes away from Baker’s lips, which she's spent God only knows how long staring at.

“Hm?”

Baker is timid when she speaks now, something Hannah doesn't know how to handle. “I went to Catholic school all my life till college,” she says. “My family went to Mass every Sunday, and when I went to college, I sort of lost that. There are some Christians on my team at Stanford and even on the national team, but I've felt like something is missing for a while. I can't ask my mom and dad when I have doubts or concerns or whatever, I feel like they'll judge me or worry about me.”

“They don't seem like the type.”

“They aren't really,” Baker says. “I just don't have the most open relationship with them, I guess. I'm a really private person. I was even scared to tell my mom when I got period. I just wadded up toilet paper for months.” She smiles. “You know how a lot of girls say their mom is their best friend? I love my mom, but she's my mom. There's a… necessary distance.”

Hannah nods. “I understand that. My mom and I are similar. I guess I just don't think of it much because I have Joanie. She's my best friend. She's the first one I told when… she's the first one I tell about everything.”

“I could have used a Joanie,” Baker says with a sad smile. “Plenty of times.”

“You can borrow mine anytime,” Hannah laughs, relieved to be moving onto a different subject. As much as Joanie knows how to get under her skin, Hannah can sing her praises all day long.

Baker yawns, seemingly taking herself by surprise. “Oh, wow. What time is it?” she asks rhetorically, looking down at her phone. “Oh, God, am I keeping you up?”

Hannah looks at the time on Baker’s phone to see it’s past midnight. “No, you're fine,” she says. “Do you want to check out that church tomorrow?”

“I'd love to, but I have no idea when I'll get to sleep with all that chaos going on at my place,” Baker laughs, standing up to peek out the window at her own apartment.

“If you're tired, you're more than welcome to stay here,” Hannah says. “I can sleep on the couch and you can borrow clothes to sleep in.”

“I couldn't,” Baker says, but she looks back out the window once more before changing her mind. “Are you sure you don't mind? And I'll sleep on the couch, please.”

“Not a chance,” Hannah says, turning to go to her bedroom. “Let me grab you some stuff. Shorts or pants?”

“Shorts, please,” Baker says. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Hannah calls from the bathroom as she throws all the clothes on the ground into the hamper. “Tank top or T-shirt?”

“Umm, tank top,” Baker replies. Hannah grimaces. Of course Baker would pick the things that cover the least amount of skin. “Hannah, this bed is way big enough for us both!” she says, standing in the doorway of Hannah’s bedroom. “Please don't sleep on the couch, I would feel terrible.”

This is it. This is where Hannah should say something. But her mouth feels like it's tied shut, so she just nods. “Okay,” she agrees.

Hannah lies on her back, stiff as a board while Baker tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable. She can feel the warmth of Baker’s skin even without touching her, and she wills her brain and her body not to react. She can just imagine the fallout if she woke up wrapped around the girl beside her because her body has a mind of its own. She could kiss her only friend in the area goodbye… without ever actually getting the chance to kiss her, of course.

~

Luckily, Hannah wakes up completely on her side of the bed to Baker sleeping soundly on the other side. Baker borrows church clothes, and they walk a few blocks till they reach the chapel.

The comforting thing about church, Hannah thinks, is the way that no matter where she goes in the world, it's kind of the same. There's a comfort in the prayers and the responses to the priest. It's grounding to feel like she's coming home even when she feels like she's floating in space, completely untethered to anything familiar.

She didn't sleep well thanks to Baker’s presence keeping all her nerves on high alert, so she zones out during much of the homily before waking herself up for prayers and Communion. She lines up behind Baker, who looks pensive as she bows her head and moves her lips silently.

“Do you want to get coffee or a bite to eat or something?” Hannah asks. Baker just nods.

They walk in silence till they get to the first bakery Hannah sees.

“Oh, I don't have my wallet,” Baker realizes.

“That's okay,” Hannah says. “What do you want?”

“Hannah,” Baker chides. “You're being too generous.”

“A croissant is like a dollar,” Hannah says. “You can get me next time.”

“What do you like here?” Baker asks, assessing the menu.

“Tell you what,” Hannah says. “You go outside and save us one of those tables in the sun, and I'll take care of this.”

“Small iced coffee, please,” Baker says.

Hannah orders two large iced coffees and an aptly named “Baker’s Choice” sampler, which one of the guys working helps her carry out.

“Thanks,” she says, looking at the guy’s name tag. “Clay.”

“No problem, ladies,” he says, grinning at Baker and then back at Hannah. “Enjoy.”

“This is way too much,” Baker says, but that doesn't stop her from loading up her small plate with a coffee cake and a cookie and an almond croissant.

“Pace yourself,” Hannah laughs. “This place is great.”

“Good, I need somewhere to do homework,” Baker says, rolling her eyes. “I literally have a final the weekend of our first away game.”

“That’s what you get for going to Stanford, nerd,” Hannah teases.

“Please, you went to Emory!” Baker exclaims.

Hannah's hair stands on end when she says that, and Baker must notice her change in demeanor, because her face turns red.

“And you never told me that,” Baker says, cringing. “I told you I'm a creep.”

Hannah tries to shake her surprise because of course Baker knows that. She went there for two and a half years, it's not like it's a secret. It just feels so weird to talk to someone she's met recently about something that feels like a lifetime ago.

“That's okay, leading goal scorer at Stanford,” Hannah says, smirking. “I know all your stats.”

“Now that's impressive,” Baker laughs. “I don't even know those.” She takes a bite of her croissant and her eyes flutter shut. “Oh my God, this is good,” she practically moans.

Hannah shifts in her seat, focusing on anything but Baker’s face.

“Why did you leave anyway?” Baker asks, licking stray crumbs from her lips. “Emory for LSU?”

“It's a long story,” Hannah says, forcing her face to remain neutral. “But hey, if I didn't go to LSU, I wouldn't have been at St. Mary’s for my last semester and I wouldn't have met you and you wouldn't be enjoying that amazing pastry right now.”

“A very good point,” Baker says, swallowing down her final bite with her coffee before speaking again, this time softer. “What did you think? Of Mass?”

“Um, it was good,” Hannah says. “Mass is kind of always the same. What did you think?”

Baker shrugs. “You're right. It's always the same.”

“Did you not like it?”

“I just…” Baker sighs. “Does it ever feel wrong? The things they say?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know.” Baker looks down at her lap. “These are the things I can't talk to my parents about. I feel guilty when I question things. Like, I know a lot of really great people who are Jewish or Muslim or… I don't know, gay! And they give money to charity and they help people and they are kind and I'm supposed to believe they're less than or that they'll go to hell. I went to Catholic school all my life and it still doesn't make sense.”

Hannah nods. “I get it,” she says. “I really, really do.” She takes a deep breath. Maybe now is the right time to tell her story. It's nothing huge or life-changing, probably, but Baker should know she's not the first to question everything she's supposed to believe. But when Baker looks up, there are tears in her eyes, and Hannah doesn't want to make this about herself. Maybe it's not the right time.

“I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm so emotional,” Baker says, wiping her eyes with her napkin. “Maybe I'm just homesick or something.”

“You're allowed to be upset, it upsets me too,” Hannah reassures her, placing her hand over Baker’s.

Baker looks up to meet Hannah’s eyes and turns her hand over so she's squeezing Hannah’s. No, now is definitely not the right time.

Chapter Text

When Hannah was seven and Joanie six, they each won a Betta fish at a carnival using all the tickets they'd earned from games. They probably cost their parents $100 and could have bought both fish for a whopping $5 combined, but those fish were worth much more because they'd worked so hard to earn them.

There was an unspoken competition between the girls to see who could keep their fish alive longer. They kept them in the kitchen by the window sill so their water would stay warm, and they tended to them religiously, feeding them in the morning and first thing when they got home from school. Their parents wouldn't say it, mostly because they didn't want to encourage more pets, but they were impressed when both fish survived two whole weeks.

One night, 7-year-old Hannah got up for a glass of water in the middle of the night and noticed Joanie’s fish, Mickey, floating in his bowl, belly up. Instead of the smug satisfaction she’d anticipated, she could only see Joanie’s heartbroken face in her mind. She silently switched the bowls, willing to take the loss to avoid Joanie being upset.

It worked, maybe a little too well, and when Joanie’s (previously  Hannah’s) fish lived for an entire year, she got the family reputation as “fish whisperer,” and Hannah took on the persona of “fish killer,” a story she recounts with a smile when Baker asks her to take care of hers and Sam’s goldfish while they're at National Team camp.

They'd gotten the fish on a whim while they were shopping for balcony furniture at Walmart, knowing full well they can't care for real animals right now. Baker named hers Stan (short for Stanford), and Sam named hers Silas (because she likes alliteration). Baker insists there's a way to tell them apart, but Hannah calls bullshit on that. Either way, as long as she keeps them both alive, she’ll be fine.

The camp is only a week long, with a few days of training in Orlando before a game in Nashville and another in Ohio. Hannah watches both from Baker’s couch because she doesn't get Fox Sports 1 on her TV. Baker starts the first game on the bench, wearing a scowl Hannah never wants directed at her. She comes off the bench at halftime to score two goals. When Hannah congratulates her via text, she shrugs it off, as she so often does. “It's just Puerto Rico,” she says. “I'm so glad you watched though!”

“I was confused the whole time, but the constant goals helped keep me up to date,” Hannah replies.

“Lol,” Baker texts back. “Don't worry, I’ll teach you when I get back. Hopefully I actually start the next game!”

She does, naturally, but this time she doesn't score a goal till the last ten minutes. Her frustration is visible even after she scores, so Hannah snaps a picture of the fish and sends it along with the caption “Finally got them to stop doing backflips over that goal! Way to go, superstar!”

Hannah isn't super surprised when she doesn't get a text back till the next morning, mostly because she heard all about their plans to party after the last game.

“Kill me,” it says. Attached is a selfie of Baker and Sam, sans any makeup at all, sitting at a gate in the airport. Baker still looks perfect. Sam looks great, too, but Hannah can't take her eyes away from Baker’s flawless skin and sleepy eyes.

“I'd never dream of it,” Hannah replies. “Have a safe flight!”

~

Baker “pays” Hannah for her services with a homemade coupon for one “fun night out” of her choice that she can cash in at any time.

“The only condition is that I'm in town… I’m not bankrolling you having fun without me,” Baker clarifies.

“Needy,” Hannah teases.

“You love me,” Baker retorts.

“I just keep you around because I hear you're going to be famous.”

“Speaking of,” Baker says suddenly. “What are you doing Saturday morning?”

Hannah squeezes her eyes shut, trying to picture the calendar. All she sees is the big glaring red words “AP EXAMS” from her agenda in a few weeks. “I'm actually holding a study session for some of my students.”

“What time?”

“Ten.”

A smile spreads across Baker’s face. “What if I told you the plans I have in mind are before that?”

That's how Hannah, who barely wants to be up in the mornings to do the job she loves, ends up wide awake watching a British soccer game on a Saturday at 7 a.m., curled up in a blanket on her couch while Baker sits cross-legged next to her drawing X’s and O’s on a legal pad, trying to explain the positions on the field and why one guy is passing to this specific other one.

Hannah zones out a few times, but she actually learns a lot. Like the fact that Baker has a freckle where her neck meets her right shoulder and that she still owns (and wears) pajama pants from middle school and her Student Council shirt from high school. And the fact that offsides never means what anyone thinks it means. And that Baker unwittingly takes on a slight English accent after listening to the English commentators long enough.

When the sun streams in through the windows, Hannah wishes she could push away the legal pad and kiss Baker. She thinks about kissing Baker a lot, but this feels even more domestic, like Baker just rolled out of Hannah’s bed and dragged her into the living room to watch rather than rolling out of her own bed and trudging downstairs to Hannah’s apartment with freshly brewed coffee for both of them. Hannah feels like she's supposed to be kissing her, like Baker wouldn't even bat an eyelash if she leaned down for a quick peck.

A few years ago she might have pushed these thoughts far away just to let them haunt her later, but now she inhales them, embracing the fantasies for a moment before letting them go with her next exhale. It's the healthiest way to cope with anything, but Hannah finds its most effective on painful, hopeless crushes.

When the game is over, Hannah finds herself wishing for more, knowing her time with Baker is over for now. They aren't far enough into their friendship that it's just a given that they'll see each other soon. They don't have any plans (unless you count Hannah going to Baker’s opening home game in two weeks as “plans”), and Hannah hates the feeling of going their separate ways knowing full well she’ll have to reach out to Baker and show more of her cards if she wants to see her again.

This time, though, Baker makes her life a little easier.

“Do you think I can come with you?” Baker asks a bit sheepishly. “I have some studying to do, and Sam’s boyfriend is here, so it's kind of awkward to hang around the apartment.”

“Of course,” Hannah says, trying to hide her excitement. Her study session is at the Morning Times, a popular coffee shop with a cozy art gallery upstairs. Hannah buys coffee for any student who shows up, which is enough of an incentive for any student on the fence to show up, even though she can't understand why anyone wouldn't. If you're going to spend a whole year in a high-level English class, why would you just wing the test that could give you college credit?

Baker giggles when Hannah finishes her rant. “I totally know,” she says. “I was the only one on my soccer team who took AP Calculus and AP Lit the same year. I thought I was going to die most of the time, but I told them all how it was worth it because I wouldn't have to take those intro classes in college. Joke’s on me, because they scheduled a U-20 camp during AP exams. I was in the same boat as literally everyone else my freshman year.”

Hannah cringes. “Dude, that sucks.”

“Tell me about it, dude,” Baker teases. “What do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee? Tea? Something to eat?” Hannah opens her mouth to protest, but Baker puts a finger up to stop her. “You got me last time. It's my turn.”

Baker insists on carrying their coffee and biscuits upstairs and helping Hannah set up her study area before setting herself up at a table not far away.

Eleven kids show up, which is an admirable number in Hannah’s opinion. While they discuss the motifs throughout the different books on their list, Hannah catches Baker looking over at them a few times. She tries not to let that distract her, but Baker scrambles her brain in a way Hannah doesn't understand. She inhales, holds the thought for five seconds, then lets it go, turning her attention back to a question about the symbolism of Janie’s hair in Their Eyes Were Watching God.

When the last student leaves, Baker stands up and walks to where Hannah’s sitting.

“Hey, did you get anything done?” Hannah asks.

“Nah, but I learned plenty about symbolism and how to write a mean DBQ,” Baker says. “I'll never look at anything the same way ever again.”

“Try being an English teacher,” Hannah laughs.

“See, that's symbolic,” Baker says. Hannah raises an eyebrow, and Baker laughs. “Our whole plan this morning was for me to teach you something new, and here I am, learning from you.”

“I learned a lot about soccer from you!” Hannah insists.

“Oh, I know,” Baker says. “You were even calling offsides pretty accurately there toward the end. See? We’re learning from each other. Symbolism.” She folds her arms across her chest in satisfaction.

“Whatever you say,” Hannah laughs. “You may need a few more study sessions.”

Baker’s eyes brighten in what Hannah thinks is amusement. “If you insist.”

~

Their “study sessions” become more regular, with Baker texting Hannah to ask if she can come over and do homework while Hannah grades papers almost every day. Sometimes they stay at Hannah’s apartment, and other times they move downstairs to the lobby or down the street to a coffeeshop. Sometimes they abandon their responsibilities altogether and go to the wine bar a block away until they start yawning.

Hannah can tell they're spending a lot of time together, but she always wants more. More of Baker touching her knee to get her attention when her headphones are in, more of Baker linking her arm through Hannah’s and leaning her head on Hannah’s shoulder on their tipsy walks home, more of Baker.

It isn't till the morning of Baker’s first game with the Courage that they're apart for more than 24 hours, which Hannah only realizes when Baker sends a text reading “is it weird that I got so sad last night when I realized I hadn't seen you all day? :(“

Hannah swears her heart skips a beat when she reads that, remembering all the times she felt that way about girls in high school, then again with Shelby in college. How she feels now about Baker.

“Not weird at all,” Hannah replies. “I'll see you tonight.”

“Yay! I can't wait to meet Joanie,” Baker types back quickly. “I have a feeling she can give me the real scoop on Hannah Eaden.”

“Not if I can help it,” Hannah says, hoping it sounds more casual than she feels. “Besides, I'm an open book. What could you possibly want to know?”

“Hmm…” comes Baker’s reply, doing absolutely nothing to quell Hannah’s nerves.

That's the last thing Hannah hears from her before the game, a 4-0 thrashing of the Boston Breakers with two of the goals coming from #6, Baker Hadley.

Joanie spends the entire game screaming louder than anyone in their section, earning her plenty of strange looks from parents nearby. “What? I'm passionate,” she says with a shrug when Hannah tells her to tone it down a bit.

“If you're this unbearable to be with in public now, I'm probably going to have to ditch you when we go out tonight,” Hannah says.

“You love me too much for that,” Joanie replies, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

When the game ends, all the young fans rush to the barrier on the field where players are signing autographs and taking selfies. Even though Hannah knows she gets to hang out with Baker for real, she finds herself weirdly jealous of the little girls who Baker crouches down to hug and talk to intently. Baker has a way of making everyone she talks to feel like the only person in the world, a quality Hannah loves when it's directed at her.

Baker makes her way around the field toward Hannah and Joanie, but she stops two sections away to talk to a tiny blonde girl in a light blue soccer jersey and cleats, along with her… dad? Brother? Hannah can't tell, but he looks familiar somehow. She doesn't know if it's just in her head, but it feels like Baker spends an awful lot of time talking to them compared to the others. She's almost sure of it when she sees him hand his phone over and watches Baker program what must be her number into his contacts.

Joanie seems to have missed the interaction entirely, too preoccupied with getting her new jersey signed by the other players (and fangirling with the group of 13-year-olds beside her) to notice Hannah’s gaze.

But Baker notices. She walks over to them with a huge smile, but when she sees Hannah, her face falls. “Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, just tired,” Hannah says.

“Oh no,” Baker says, pouting. “Please say you're still coming out with us tonight.”

“Yeah, of course,” Hannah says. “Sorry. I'm fine. It's exhausting watching you run up and down the field for so long.”

Baker smiles. “It's no walk in the park for me either. The goals are my rewards.”

Joanie clears her throat, and Hannah turns. “Oh, um, Baker, this is Joanie. Joanie, Baker.”

“It's so nice to meet you,” Baker says, reaching across the barrier to hug Joanie. “Sorry I'm so sweaty. Hannah has seriously told me so much about you. Thank you for coming!”

“Y-yeah,” Joanie says. “Of course.” Joanie Eaden does not get starstruck, but leave it to Baker to change that.

“You'll never guess who came,” Baker laughs. “That guy Clay? From the bakery we went to that one time after Mass? I went back the other day—to the bakery, not the church—and we got to talking. His four-year-old niece, Ava, is apparently a huge soccer fan, so I left him some tickets at will call and he brought her. How cute is that?”

“So cute,” Hannah agrees, but her voice feels flat. She can see Joanie out of the corner of her eye looking on with concern. Of course it was him. She’d seen the way he looked at her. Then again, everyone looks that way at Baker. She's infectious.

“I think he might meet us out tonight,” Baker continues. “After he brings her home of course. I told him to text me so we can meet up.” Someone calls Baker’s name, and she looks over her shoulder and nods. “Okay, they're going to be mad if I stay longer, but you go home and take a power nap. I'll swing by to grab you guys when we’re all ready to go. I need you at full energy for all the fun we’re going to have tonight, okay?”

“You bet,” Hannah agrees, swallowing the lump in her throats as Baker hugs them both goodbye.

“Han,” Joanie sighs as soon as they're alone, but Hannah just shakes her head.

“Not now,” she says. “Just don't say anything.”

~

Baker’s name doesn't come up again till she's bursting through Hannah’s door with a bottle of vodka.

“You two need to catch up!” she giggles, Sam and Lynn following timidly behind her. “We all had a shot while getting ready.”

“Baker had two,” Sam says as if it is not completely obvious.

Baker looks beautiful in a completely different way than she did at the game or than she does when she's lounging around in shorts and a T-shirt. She's not any more or any less beautiful than she normally is, but Hannah’s brain finds itself in brand new territory when she sees Baker in a tight black mini-dress and strappy heels that show off her incredible soccer calves.

“I'm not carrying you home, you know,” Sam says when Baker starts complaining about her feet hurting just a block away from their building.

“You don't have to, Hannah will,” Baker laughs, throwing her left arm around Hannah’s neck and looping her right arm around Sam’s waist. “She's much nicer than you.”

“She's kind of a bitch really,” Joanie teases.

Baker spins toward her, taking her arm away from Sam and using it to pull Joanie in as they try to walk normally. “Yeah, I need you to give me the juice on this one,” Baker whispers loudly, winking at Hannah. “She's like… too perfect.”

Joanie laughs. “That’s hilarious. She's a demon. Did you know she's a known fish killer?”

“I might have heard a thing or two about that,” Baker says with a smile. “What's the wildest thing Hannah ever did in high school? Like, what was the biggest trouble she ever got into?”

Hannah focuses her attention on the ground in front of her, mostly to make sure there are no cracks in the sidewalk that Baker could miss and break her ankle on, but also so she can focus on whatever Joanie is going to say without her face giving anything away.

“A few months after she got her license, she and I went on this really cute sister date. We went to brunch and to the farmers market like 45 minutes from the house and then to this corn maze nearby. We got in a huge fight in the middle of the maze because she wanted to go one way and I wanted to go another.”

Hannah smirks, remembering the day in question. She can't remember why they got so worked up, but she remembers being totally right.

“So we split up, which is like the exact opposite of what you're supposed to do, right? Eventually I realize I'm completely lost and Hannah was totally right, so I get an escort to get me the hell out of there expecting her to be at the end waiting all smug to rub it in that she was right, but she wasn't there. She literally left me stranded in a goddamn corn maze and then left!”

“Oh my God, you little drama queen!” Hannah exclaims. “I drove a mile down the road to freak you out a little. I figured you'd call me screaming and crying and I'd come back. But no, she called our parents and told them I'd abandoned her and made them drive all the way out there to pick her up. I lost my car privileges for a month thanks to Little Miss Can’t Keep Her Mouth Shut.”

Baker doubles over with laughter at their interaction, which probably is a lot more funny to her given the amount of alcohol already in her system. “Okay, maybe I'm glad I never had a sister,” she laughs. “Hannah, did you not realize it was taking her an insanely long time?”

“I mean, I figured she was stupid enough that she wouldn't find her way and stubborn enough not to ask for help, so I was expecting to wait for a long time.”

Joanie reaches across Baker to smack Hannah, but Baker turns so she's shielding Hannah.

“No violence tonight,” she announces. “It is officially girls’ night, and since Hannah is my No. 1 girl in Raleigh, I have to protect her. But no fighting! If another group of girls thinks they're hotter than us, we’ll challenge them to a dance-off.”

“I've seen your moves in the locker room, and that's probably not the best idea,” Lynn laughs.

Baker probably isn't the best dancer, but Hannah could watch her shimmy in that dress all night long. Her body is so ripped from her constant workouts that Hannah can even see her abs through the dress when the light hits it just right.

Everyone on the team tries to buy Baker drinks for a job well done, but she passes most of them along to Joanie and Hannah so she won't get too plastered.

Hannah thinks they might be safe when Baker seems to forget the existence of her phone, which is safely tucked into the clutch Sam is holding to carry everyone’s stuff, but when she hears a man’s voice call Baker’s name, she sees her luck run out.

“Clay!” Baker exclaims, giving him a tight hug around the neck. “I'm so glad you came! Have you met Hannah? She was with me the first time I came by.”

“Oh, yeah, hey,” he says, sticking his hand out. “Clay.”

Baker finishes the introductions and turns to smile at Clay with that dazzling grin Hannah knows and loves. Right now she thinks she might love it a little less, and the thought forms a guilt pit in her stomach.

While Baker and Clay chat about God knows what, Hannah excuses herself to go to the bathroom to inhale, exhale, and let it go. The monstrous line of women crawls, and Joanie, who followed close behind, isn't much company, too busy taking Snapchat selfies to make conversation with Hannah.

“One more drink?” Joanie asks when they finally escape, leading Hannah to the bar where Baker finds them.

“Where did you guys go?” Baker exclaims. Her eyes are redder than before, and the drink she's holding now isn't the same one as when they left her.

“Bathroom,” Hannah says. “Sorry, you were busy talking.”

“Oh,” Baker pouts. “I'm just glad you didn't leave. You aren't paying for drinks, are you?”

“I'm—”

“Take this,” Baker says. “Clay bought it, but I'm not much of a pilsner girl.”

“Where is he?” Hannah asks, looking past Baker, who follows her gaze and shrugs.

“I don't know, hopefully talking to Abby or Michaela,” she says. “I have a sneaking suspicion he likes blondes.” She fingers a stray lock of Hannah’s hair absentmindedly when she says that.

“I have a sneaking suspicion he likes you,” Hannah mumbles.

Baker’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “You think?” she laughs.

“Dude, he was eye-boning you so hard,” Joanie says.

“Joanie!” Hannah snaps.

“Oh God,” Baker says, her face etched with worry. “I thought he was buying me a drink because of the goals. I didn't mean to… I mean, I knew he thought I was cute, I guess.”

“He’d be stupid not to,” Joanie adds.

“I meant what I said about it being a girls night,” Baker says, reaching out to touch Hannah’s arm. “Han, I wouldn't ditch you, you know that, right?”

Hannah smiles in spite of herself. Part of her does know that—or at least has been hoping it really hard—but doesn't want to believe it or think about the implications it could have on her ever-growing, ever-inconvenient crush on Baker Hadley.

“Come on, let's dance,” Baker says.

If Baker’s profession of never leaving Hannah’s side made the crush situation difficult, her dancing with Hannah makes it damn near impossible. She's close enough to touch, close enough to pull in against Hannah’s body so they can sway together, but Hannah feels paralyzed watching her. She's looser than she was before, a direct result of the alcohol, and she doesn't seem to have any inhibitions, especially not when she's grabbing Hannah’s hand and demanding Hannah spin her around like they're in Dirty Dancing or something.

After one too many twirls (or is it one two many vodka sodas?), Baker grabs Hannah’s shoulder for stability. “Sorry,” she says. “I just got dizzy.” Baker pauses as if to gather her bearings, and Hannah places her hands on her hips to steady her. “I think I'm ready to go home.”

“Yeah,” Hannah says. Baker is pale and disoriented, and Hannah has held back enough hair at enough frat parties to know the warning signs of a drunk girl about to puke. “Okay. Joanie!” she calls. Joanie whirls around, and Hannah waves her over. “Can you take her outside for some fresh air? I'm going to find the other girls and let them know we’re leaving.” Joanie pouts, but one eyebrow raise from Hannah is all it takes for her to do as directed.

When Hannah gets outside after retrieving Baker’s phone, wallet, and keys from Sam, she can tell Joanie drew the short straw, rubbing Baker’s back while another girl who Hannah doesn't recognize wipes her mouth gently with a napkin, coaxing her to drink more water.

“You poor thing,” the girl says. “Oh look, there's Hannah now, it's okay. You're okay.”

Hannah looks at her strangely as Baker straightens to stand up, but she can't recall ever seeing her before, let alone knowing her name, so she just smiles. “Thanks for your help,” she says. “Bake, can you walk? Or should I call a Lyft?”

“Walk,” Baker croaks out, placing an arm over Hannah’s shoulders as Hannah wraps an arm around her wrist to support her. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay,” Hannah says, echoing the stranger who helped Joanie care for Baker. “You're okay.”

Baker apologizes the whole way home while Joanie and Hannah reassure her that it's fine, she's safe, and they aren't upset with her.

“Should we take her to her apartment?” Joanie asks. “Wouldn't it be easier to take her to yours?”

“Yes,” Baker says, answering for Hannah. “Your place. Please.”

Joanie takes the couch without a single complaint, which is the most un-Joanie move Hannah has ever seen, but she's grown up a bit in the last few years.

Baker sniffles quietly while she changes into the clothes Hannah throws her way. “I'm sorry,” she says again. “I didn't mean to ruin the night.” She leans against Hannah, resting her chin on Hannah’s shoulder

“You didn't at all,” Hannah says softly, rubbing her back as she hugs Baker.

“You're soft,” Baker murmurs. “Like a teddy bear.” Hannah can feel her smile against her neck. “I should call you Hannah-bear.”

Hannah laughs and pulls away from Baker. “How do you feel? Do you need to throw up again?”

Baker shakes her head and takes another gulp from the water bottle Joanie gave her. Almost as soon as she's done swallowing, she runs to the bathroom, where she hits her knees hard on the tile in front of the toilet, heaving yet again.

“That's okay, it's good,” Hannah says, laying a towel down to cushion her knees. “All the poison is leaving your body. You're going to feel so much better.” Her voice stays calm and even amid Baker’s hacking and spitting and apologizing.

When Baker is finally done, she uses the toothbrush she always uses at Hannah’s (which Hannah makes a note to herself to replace after this) to brush the bad taste away. Her eyes are clearer when they meet Hannah’s in the mirror, and she smiles sadly.

“Don't say you're sorry again,” Hannah says before Baker gets the chance. “This is what friends are for.”

Baker nods slowly, wiping the streaked makeup from her face. When Hannah finishes brushing her teeth, she takes a trash bag and hands it to Baker, who's lying on her side in Hannah’s bed.

“If you have to throw up again, think you can do it in this?” Hannah asks.

“I think I'm done,” Baker says, but she clutches the garbage bag tight under her chin. When Hannah climbs into bed, Baker turns her body to face her. “Thanks for taking care of me tonight.”

“Any time,” Hannah promises. “Maybe one day it'll be me.”

“It'll never be you,” Baker says with a soft laugh. “You're too busy looking after everyone else to get this drunk. It's one of the things I love about you.”

Hannah hums to acknowledge Baker’s… compliment? She thinks it's a compliment.

“I don't like him,” Baker says softly.

“Hm?”

“Clay. He's nice. And he's cute. But he's not… I don't like him.”

“Okay.”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Why?”

“Why don't I like him?”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I don't know,” Baker says after a moment. “You seemed… I don't know. But I don't like him. That's all.”

“You can like whoever you want,” Hannah says.

“I know,” Baker says, but she doesn't sound convinced. “I know that.”

A moment of silence lingers between them, and for a little while Hannah thinks that's the last thing either one of them will say before falling asleep.

“Hannah?” Baker’s small voice peeks its head out of the darkness.

“Mm,” Hannah hums.

“If I were into him, would you be mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

Baker is quiet. “Would you?”

“I don't know, Baker,” Hannah sighs. “I don't know him at all. I don't know.”

“But you know me.”

Hannah feels her heart pick up in pace, and she feels like she's in fight or flight mode with this conversation. “I'm really tired.”

“Okay,” Baker says. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Hannah says with a small smile. “Good night.”

She can hear Baker’s smile crinkle the pillowcase. “Good night, Hannah-bear.”

Hannah takes a deep breath in.

Chapter Text

Hannah couldn't have asked for a better time for Baker to have two road games in a row. As much as she hates the time apart, she knows she needs room to breathe. Time apart from Baker means watching her Snapchat stories longingly and feeling jealous of everyone who does get to spend time with her, but it also means Hannah can leave her phone at home and go for long walks to get her thoughts in order when necessary. As Baker’s texts get longer (and softer after dark), so do Hannah’s walks.

The second weekend happens to be the same weekend Joanie moves home from college, which she successfully guilts Hannah into helping with. Luckily, once they've packed up their cars and driven to Charlotte, their parents are too excited to have both daughters home to make them do any more heavy lifting or chores. They spend the entire weekend by the Eadens’ new neighborhood pool with their mom, day drinking inconspicuously out of insulated water bottles while gossiping about their high school friends and judging a group of middle schoolers in their cannonball contests.

“Hey, Baker gave me something to give you,” Hannah says, turning to face Joanie. “Don't let me forget.”

“Watch out, soon enough I'm going to be her favorite Eaden,” Joanie teases. “First I held her hair back when she threw up, now she's giving me presents. Does she know you're the only one who swings that way?”

Hannah glares at her sister. “She doesn't know.”

“Wait, what?” Joanie laughs. “Hannah, are you kidding me? Why not?”

“Who are we talking about?” Anne asks, propping herself up on her pool chair.

“Nobody,” Hannah says immediately.

“Baker Hadley,” Joanie says at the same time. “The girl Hannah is completely smitten with.”

“Joanie, shut up,” Hannah grits through her teeth. “Not every girl I'm friends with is a love interest.”

“Don't tell your sister to shut up,” Anne chides. “Who's the girl?”

“She's nobody.”

“Would you say that to her face?” Joanie asks. “Mom, she's gorgeous. And so into Hannah. They're attached at the hip. It would be annoying if it weren't so cute.”

“Han, I didn't know you were seeing someone!”

“I'm not, Jesus!” Hannah exclaims.

“That wasn't necessary,” Anne says in her quiet “not mad, just disappointed” voice. “I care about your love life. You were upset at first when I didn't ask, and now you're upset that I'm asking?”

Hannah wasn't really upset when her parents didn't react to the “our daughter’s a lesbian” news waving Pride flags and popping champagne bottles. She expected it to take time, but the weeks following her anti-climactic coming out were among the worst of Hannah’s life. She was mad at the world, not her family, who reacted as well as they could be expected to.

Hannah hid it from herself for almost 18 years, and by the time she finally came out to herself, even she had to take a few years to adjust to her new reality. It helped to have Shelby, of course, the striking brunette with blue-green eyes that sparkled whenever she stood in the sun or looked at Hannah. They met in an English composition class their freshman year of college, having been assigned as peer review buddies. Every week they had a standing study date to pore over each other’s work, and every week Hannah fell further. The meetings moved from the library to form common areas till finally they were comfortable enough to just go to each other’s rooms.

“Hey, Han?” Shelby had asked one day, lying on her stomach on Hannah’s bed, doodling in her purple pen in the margins of Hannah’s essay. It always took Hannah longer to read Shelby’s work because she soaked up every word as if they could give her some insight into her soul.

“Mm,” Hannah remembers responding without looking up.

“I was just wondering if you were ever planning on kissing me.”

Hannah’s neck didn't feel the same for weeks after her head snapped up to meet Shelby’s smirk. Then and there, her life changed. She officially had her first girlfriend, at least behind closed doors.

If they went to the movies, they sat in the very back where they could hold hands without anyone noticing, but they rarely went to the movies. They rarely went anywhere outside of their own dorm rooms. Neither one of them was out to anyone, especially not their own roommates, so their relationship was a lot of fumbling around in the dark and whispers of “did you lock the door?” All the things those movies about forbidden romance tell you love is supposed to be. Hannah felt a rush whenever she was with Shelby, like she was doing something adult, so adult that nobody would understand, so nobody could know.

Only, eventually Hannah wanted people to know. She wanted to shout from the rooftops that she was in love with this woman, but she couldn't. She was content to love Shelby in silence, but the coming out question started dominating every conversation. She started to think they never would.

Joanie knew first. Hannah still doesn't know how long she knew, but the third or fourth time she came to Emory for a weekend visit and spent the entire time sharing Hannah with Shelby, she confronted her sister tearfully.

“Why don't you trust me?” she had exclaimed. “Why won't you just talk to me about your life? I love you, and I just want to know you. Why don't you want me to know you?”

“Because it's not just me!” Hannah had screamed back finally. “It's her, too. I can't be honest with the world without making her do something she's not ready for!”

Joanie’s sobbing continued, but her gasps slowed down and finally her breathing evened out. “Thank you,” she had said. “That's all I wanted. That's all I needed. Thank you.”

From that day forward, Joanie was Hannah’s confidant in all things regarding Shelby and her sexuality. She was there when Hannah questioned anything at all, things she couldn't bring up with Shelby for fear that she would break up with her, or worse. Hannah didn't know what could be worse than losing Shelby, but the thought always lingered.

Joanie was the one who told Hannah her plan—to come out to her parents first and maybe take some of the pressure off Shelby—was a stupid one. Joanie warned her plenty of times, but Hannah didn't listen. She knew she could trust her family not to tell anyone or put Shelby at risk, and besides, Hannah would feel so much better having it off her chest.

“You've trusted me throughout this whole thing, just like I asked you to,” Joanie had whispered to Hannah minutes before she ventured downstairs to sit her parents down for the talk the day after Thanksgiving. “I'm asking you to trust me again. This is going to backfire, Han. I've met Shelby. This isn't going to turn out the way you want it to.”

“It's been two years, Joanie,” Hannah had signed with exasperation. “I want them to know. And I want her to know it won't be so bad when she tells her parents.”

Tom and Anne took the news as well as Hannah could have expected. They listened quietly, thanked her for her honesty, apologized if they had ever done anything that made her feel like she couldn't tell them sooner, and told her they loved her no matter what.

Hannah was on cloud nine the rest of the day, and she called Shelby before bed to tell her the good news. She had to look at her phone a few times to make sure the call hadn't dropped, that's how silent Shelby was after she told her.

“Shel?” Hannah had asked. “You there?”

“You shouldn't have done that, Hannah,” Shelby had said quietly.

“What? Why not? It was great.”

“I'm not you. My parents aren't your parents.”

“No, but—”

“But nothing,” Shelby said. “I'm happy for you, Hannah. I'm going to bed. Good night.”

She didn't answer any of Hannah’s calls or texts on Saturday or Sunday, and on Monday, she broke up with Hannah in a text that Hannah still has memorized even though Joanie made her delete it long ago.

“Hannah, I can't do this anymore. I'm so happy for you, but this just made me realize we’re on completely different pages. I'm nowhere near ready and I'm just holding you back now. You deserve to be honest with yourself and the rest of the world.”

After a solid week of crying in her room and not studying for her looming finals, Hannah sent in a transfer application to LSU and submitted a medical excuse to Emory to let her write essays for her classes instead of taking exams. It ended up being three times as much work, but it eliminated any risk of seeing Shelby on campus.

She left Emory without saying goodbye to anyone, even her friends and favorite teachers. She met with an adviser at LSU to set herself up on an accelerated course of study and powered through a spring and summer semester before embarking on her internship at St. Mary’s and graduating in the fall. The last place Hannah wanted to be was in school with a bunch of people who had already solidified their places and their cliques. The only place she wanted to be was out.

Now that she's out—of the closet, college, her parents’ home—she doesn't always know what to do with herself, but she feels free, and sometimes that's enough. And sometimes it's not, like when she realizes being free still doesn't prevent her from falling for a friend or getting her heart broken, probably in that order.

When they get home, Hannah gives Joanie Baker’s card before escaping to the room she shares with Joanie when they're home now. She doesn't stomp or slam the door like she would have in high school, but her demeanor sends a clear signal that she is to be left alone.

She lies on her back on her twin bed, not bothering to change out of her bathing suit and cover-up, and folds her hands over her stomach, willing them not to reach for her phone. If she has a text from Baker, she’ll let that distract her from the thoughts she needs to settle down first. If she doesn't have a text from Baker, the thoughts will just get worse.

When Hannah met Shelby, she was a pro at ignoring her feelings for girls because she’d been doing it all her life. Sure, she thought Shelby was beautiful, but she never would have acted on that if Shelby hadn't mentioned it first. It was something she figured she’d have to deal with for the rest of her life, and it wasn't worth the heartbreak or lost friendships.

Now Hannah doesn't know. The way she feels about Baker is more intense than the minor crushes she's used to shaking off. Baker is under her skin, in her veins in all the best ways. She's a drug Hannah is afraid she’ll never be able to take in healthy doses.

A small knock at the door interrupts her alone time a little while later, Joanie peeking her freshly showered head in. “Hi,” she says softly.

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Hannah says, sitting up so she's cross-legged on the bed.

“Tell Baker thanks from me,” Joanie says, holding up the card. “Tickets to the Seattle game, so I can see Angela.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah,” Joanie says, sitting on her own bed and crossing her legs so she's mirroring Hannah. “It really was.” She waits for Hannah to say something, but when it becomes clear she won't, Joanie takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like that earlier with Mom.”

“Thanks,” Hannah says. “Sorry for flipping out.”

“You didn't.”

“I felt like I did.”

“You feel like a lot of things,” Joanie says. “Why are you so paranoid about Baker?”

“What do you mean?”

“You looked like you were in a total panic when I brought up you being… you know.”

“You can say gay, Joanie.”

“Fine,” Joanie says. “I don't get it. I seriously thought the whole time when I was visiting that you were just taking your time telling me, or that you guys hadn't defined the relationship or something.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure!” Hannah exclaims. “I'm a girl who likes girls. Girls who might not always like me back. Girls who might like boys instead. I'm never sure. The way you are with your sorority sisters is how girlfriends are when they aren't, like, making out or having sex. There's not that much of a difference.”

“But you like her,” Joanie says.

“I really do.”

Joanie smiles sympathetically. “I know you do. So why don't you tell her?”

“Easy for you to say,” Hannah laughs wryly. “You met all the friends I have in Raleigh. If I lose Baker, I lose all of that.”

“If she doesn't like you back, that doesn't mean you lose her,” Joanie says.

“You don't know that,” Hannah scoffs.

“I do!” Joanie insists. “You don't see the way she looks at you. You didn't hear the way she talked about you when you weren't there.”

“When?”

“When she was puking out her guts,” Joanie says. “She kept asking where you were, saying she needed you, then saying she didn't want you to see her like that. I had to keep telling her not to cry because she was only messing up her makeup more.”

“So kind of you,” Hannah snorts, but Joanie lifts her eyebrows.

“She cared about what you thought,” Joanie shrugs. “She kept talking about the beer that guy bought her like that was the one drink that sent her over the edge. She kept saying she shouldn't have taken it, that you were upset, all sorts of things. That's why I figured you two were at least, I don't know, hooking up? Dating? I don't know.”

“That doesn't mean—”

“Take it from a girl who likes boys,” Joanie says. “If I were single and a cute guy—and no offense, but he really was cute—came alone to meet me somewhere and bought me a beer, girls’ night be damned, I'd be going home with him. Sorry Luke.”

“Baker is a better person than you are,” Hannah teases, a smirk growing on her face.

“No doubt about that,” Joanie shrugs. “But I wouldn't tell you this if I thought it would end up hurting you. The Hannah you've been since… your last relationship isn't the Hannah who marched downstairs last Thanksgiving and told Mom and Dad she was into girls and in a very happy relationship, thank you very much. I liked that Hannah a lot. And I like this Hannah a lot, the one you've been since moving out and meeting Baker.”

“I'm the same Hannah,” she mumbles.

“No you aren't,” Joanie insists. “The Hannah I got to know after you confided in me would have texted that cute girl from the bar who gave you her number. You would have told Baker you were gay before you got in so deep that it scared you. Deep down I think you know exactly what you're scared of, and it's not Baker freaking out.”

“Then what is it, oh wise one?” Hannah asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think you're scared Baker will say she feels the same,” Joanie says. “You've lost friends before. It sucks, but it's life. If Baker says she likes you too, you don't have a road map. For all you know it could end up just like Shelby.”

Hannah is silent. The sound of her name still rocks her to her core.

“Or it could end up amazing,” Joanie continues. “You could get married, have babies, grow old together. You could have an amazing few years then go your separate ways and be completely heartbroken or have a friend for life. You could hurt her, even. But you'll never know if you don't take that first step. As long as you keep running away from anything that looks like love, sooner or later you'll miss out on the real thing.”

Hannah stretches out her legs and flops back on her bed, letting out a long sigh. “What have I gotten myself into?” she groans.

Joanie smirks. “Love. It makes you stupid.”

“Then what's your explanation for before you met Luke?”

“Watch it,” Joanie warns. “That was some of my best little sister work.”

“It didn't suck,” Hannah says, sitting back up. Joanie narrows her eyes. “Fine. It was pretty good.”

“And?”

“And I'm lucky to have you as my sister.”

“Damn right you are.” Joanie pads across the room till she's at Hannah’s bed, where she sits and leans her head on Hannah’s shoulder. “I'm lucky to have you too. I love you.”

“Do you?” Hannah teases.

“Of course,” Joanie says. “I mean, I kind of owe you. For the fish thing.”

“What fish thing?”

“When my fish died and you pretended it was yours.”

“You knew about that?” Hannah asks, incredulous.

“Yeah, mine had a little orange dot on its fin. Mom and Dad just really ran with the fish killer narrative.”

Hannah laughs. “I can't believe you knew all this time!”

“Of course, dummy,” Joanie smiles. “Why do you think I worked so hard to keep the stupid thing alive after I'd won?”

“I thought you were just really into the fish!”

“I was,” Joanie says. “It always reminded me of how much your overly competitive ass loved me. Enough to be the fish killer for the rest of eternity.”

“Well if I’d known that would be the outcome,” Hannah grumbles.

“You wouldn't have done anything differently,” Joanie laughs, squeezing Hannah’s hand. “Because you're my big sister and you take your job very seriously. I promised myself I'd take care of the damn fish till I got big enough where I could help you when you needed it. So here I am. Just call me the fish killer.”

“Don't tempt me, you know I will,” Hannah says, squeezing Joanie’s hand back.

“Girls! Dinner!” Anne calls from downstairs.

Hannah's eyes light up, and she leaps up from the bed.

“Hannah, don't you dare,” Joanie says as if reading her mind, but it's too late. There's no stopping Hannah now.

“Mom! Dad!” Hannah yells, swinging the door open and running down the hallway to the stairs. “You'll never guess what Joanie did when we were little!”

Chapter Text

Summers when Hannah was little meant playing outside till dark with her sister and all the neighborhood kids. It meant no school and no mind paid to the suffocating Louisiana humidity.

The only thing that's still the same as a teacher is no school. All of Hannah’s teacher friends tutor during the summer to make extra cash, and it doesn't take long for Hannah to line up a full slate of clients, but she still has plenty of free time. Sometimes too much free time probably.

Instead of doing something productive like making a dent in her long list of books to read or starting the novel she's always dreamed of writing, she fills any downtime that she doesn't spend with Baker thinking of Baker or acting out conversations she’ll probably never have with Baker.

The day Baker comes back from her away games, she shows up at Hannah’s door with a gift bag full of small souvenirs she picked up at Disney World and in Washington, DC, for Hannah. Baker spends the day lying on Hannah’s couch watching hours and hours of Vanderpump Rules, and Hannah spends it right there with her, thinking about what Joanie had said and trying not to blurt out all her innermost feelings.

Saturday is an afternoon game being aired on TV, but if Baker is nervous she does a good job of hiding it. She doesn't score, but she doesn't even seem that annoyed when Hannah sees her after the game. A win’s a win, after all, she says, and she did assist the game winner.

“Want to come out with us tonight?” Baker texts when Hannah has just gotten home.

“Sure, where to?”

“Do you know a place called Ruby Deluxe?”

Hannah’s heart catches in her throat. It's not a gay bar or anything like that, but it certainly has a reputation for being a popular place for LGBTQ people to hang out. She can't tell what Baker is asking when she says that, but Baker expands in her next text.

“I know it's a little weird lol but the girls swear it's fun plus guys hit on you less. If you don't want to we can go somewhere else?”

“No, it's fine,” Hannah replies. Weird wasn't really the word she was looking for. “I can meet you there or we can walk together. Whatever you want.”

“Walking together is always my choice :)” Baker replies. “We’ll leave at like 10:30 but I'll come over when I've showered and eaten because I miss your face. And Sam is napping so I'm bored.”

Of course, Baker ends up napping as soon as she gets to Hannah’s, passing out in her bed for two hours while Hannah reads quietly next to her. It's 9:30 when Hannah gently shakes Baker awake to get ready, bearing the brunt of Baker’s moans and groans about how sleepy she is.

Baker isn't much for conversation on the walk there, too preoccupied picking out the perfect filter and caption for her favorite selfie she and Hannah took before they left Hannah’s apartment, but Hannah doesn't mind quiet moments with her, especially when she knows she's going to have to share Baker with the rest of the world soon enough.

“Hey look, it's my favorite roommates!” Sam calls when they walk in. “Sometimes I forget I even have a roommate, Baker spends so much time at your place.”

Baker laughs, squeezing Hannah’s arm playfully. “All you have to do is look across the courtyard and you can see our thrilling activities like lying on the couch and doing jigsaw puzzles.”

“Married,” Lynn coughs jokingly.

“What are you drinking?” Baker asks Hannah, touching her arm. “I'll go get us something.”

“I'll come,” Hannah says before she's stopped by a girl she vaguely remembers from a few months ago when she came here with Joanie. She's with another girl Hannah recognizes, and she introduces them both to Baker, relieved they offer their names (Olivia and Lais) so she doesn't have to ask awkwardly. She waves to a few other people and Baker grins at her with amusement.

“Okay, you're never allowed to say you don't have friends again,” Baker laughs. “You know so many people!”

“I really don't,” Hannah says, scratching behind her ear and facing the bar to get Baker to look away.

“Hannah?” a girl asks.

Hannah looks up to see Skye, the girl she met the first night she came here and never texted. She’d seen her here a few times since, but Hannah never says hi, feeling too awkward to start a conversation.

“Skye, hey,” she says. “Uh, this is Baker.”

Baker smiles at the girl. “Nice to meet you. Two Red Bull vodkas please.”

“You're here to party?” Skye asks, grabbing the cans from the fridge behind the bar.

“Always,” Baker laughs.

“Is this why you never texted me?” Skye asks Hannah, looking toward Baker.

“Um,” Hannah says, but she is frozen in place, acutely aware of Baker’s gaze on her. “No, I just—”

“Don't say you were busy, we’re all busy,” Skye says, her voice light and playful. “I just thought when you never texted it meant you weren't interested or you'd moved on…” She looks pointedly at Baker and winks at Hannah. “Well my number is the same. First round’s on me. Have a good night, ladies.”

When Hannah faces Baker, she finds a mixture of embarrassment and hurt on her face, and she can't breathe.

“So, do you come here often?” Baker asks icily.

Hannah opens her mouth to respond, but no words come out.

“I'm just gonna go,” Baker says, looking at her drink like it's a venomous snake before setting it back on the bar.

“Baker, no, come back,” Hannah tries, but Baker is already on her way to the door. She sets her drink besides Baker’s and chases her outside, where Baker is already clicking at her phone furiously to find a Lyft. “Really? It's that big of a deal?”

“That you kept something like this from me?” Baker exclaims. “Yeah, kind of!”

“Something like this? Something like what?”

“Who is that girl, Hannah?” Baker asks. “How do you know her?”

“She's… she's just a bartender here,” Hannah sighs. “We met here back in, God, I don't know, January?” She knows exactly when it was. She knows it was the same day Baker got drafted, the day that set so many good things into motion. But now this.

“And you what, hooked up with her? Do you like girls, Hannah?”

Her name, which usually sounds like a song from Baker’s lips, now gets spit out like poison. “Why is that so awful?” Hannah asks, her eyes filling with tears. Never in her worst case scenarios had Baker been this disgusted with her. “Is it so unfathomably awful and world-changing that you wouldn't have been able to be my friend if you had known?”

Baker doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at Hannah. Instead, she paces back and forth, staring at the ground and chewing on her lip.

“Jesus, Baker,” Hannah says. “I thought you were different. I mean, I knew you were Catholic, and when I met your parents I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe they'd have a problem with me. With this. Maybe you would.”

Baker’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?” she asks. “That's what you think this is about?”

“Well”

“I can't be angry my best friend in my new home kept something big from me? I can't be hurt that you didn't trust me, that you'd think I'm a small enough person for this to mess up our friendship?” She continues. “I can't be upset that there's been some ridiculous smokescreen between us the whole time I've known you?” Her eyes fill with tears and her voice gets louder as she goes.

“Baker, it's not like that.”

“I'm mad at you, Hannah,” Baker cries. “I'm so fucking mad.”

“I can see that,” Hannah says, feeling her heart shatter into several thousand pieces.

Baker takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. “I'm so mad you didn't tell me,” she says, stepping toward Hannah without opening her eyes. Finally, she opens them, her brown eyes bright and clear when she meets Hannah’s gaze. “I'm mad you didn't tell me because if you'd told me, I could have done this a long time ago.”

Baker has never struck Hannah as being that much taller than her, aside from when her legs take up more room on the couch and sometimes wind up in Hannah’s lap so she can stretch out, but in the split second before Baker kisses her for the first time, their height difference has never been more pronounced.

When Baker’s lips touch Hannah's, wet and salty, strange and familiar all at once, Hannah’s eyes flutter shut. Somewhere in her subconscious she knows this moment won't last forever, but her heart is screaming at her to never let it end.

When Baker pulls back to gauge Hannah’s reaction, biting her lip nervously, Hannah finds herself on her toes, so desperate was she to be on Baker’s level in height, in bravery, in grace, in all things.

Hannah blinks a few times, in a daze, then pulls Baker back in by her neck, kissing her like both their lives depend on it. “Now I'm mad at me too,” she breathes.

Baker wipes the tears from her eyes and does a quick check to make sure her purse is still on her shoulder. “Can we please go home?” she asks. “I can't—I don't want to do this right here.”

While making out on the sidewalk in the middle of Fayetteville Street on a Saturday night isn't Hannah’s first choice either, she doesn't know what “this” Baker is speaking of. Either way, she follows Baker home without question, walking so close their hands brush, but neither one moves to grab the other.

When Hannah unlocks her door and they get inside, she lets out a breath she didn't even know she’d been holding. Baker’s mood seems to have cycled through hurt to panic to happiness ten times, and she looks exhausted as she heads straight to her usual spot on the loveseat. She changes her mind as soon as Hannah sits on the couch, getting up to sit beside her.

“Did I freak you out?” she asks quietly, reaching to play with a strand of Hannah’s hair.

“A little,” Hannah says. “Okay, a lot.”

“Do you like…”

“Yeah,” Hannah says. “I'm a lesbian. I like girls.”

“I got that part,” Baker says with a smile after a brief pause. “But do you like… me?”

“Of course I like you,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “Have you met you? God, have you seen you?”

Baker smiles, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I've liked you since I met you.”

“No you haven't.”

“Swear,” Baker says, putting her pinky up. “I don't know what came over me, I just wanted to know you. And then I got to know you, and…”

Hannah locks her pinky with Baker, squeezing it as she leans in to peck Baker on the lips. “I've been wanting to do that since that night we watched the scary movie at your apartment.”

“I've been wanting you to do that since the day I came here with my parents.”

“Always two steps ahead,” Hannah teases.

“Except where it really counts,” Baker murmurs, looking at Hannah’s lips.

Hannah still isn't convinced any of this is real, but she leans in for another kiss anyway, figuring she should take full advantage of this dream while it lasts.

Baker’s hands tangle in Hannah’s hair as they kiss, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths for the first time. Hannah clings to her waist as they stretch out on the couch, Baker lying on top of Hannah with legs intertwined.

“Hannah,” Baker says, pulling away breathlessly. “Can we continue this in your room? I'm getting a great core workout trying to stay on, but I'm about to fall off here.”

Hannah sits up, trying to get her head straight. There's a lot she still needs to figure out and wrap her head around with this situation. There are a lot of things she still needs to ask Baker, answers she needs to get. “Maybe we shouldn't. Not tonight.”

Baker’s face falls. “Oh,” she says. “Okay. I thought—okay.” She gets up from the couch abruptly and looks around for her phone and bag.

“You can stay here,” Hannah says, standing to follow her. “I can stay on the couch. I just don't want to do anything we’ll regret, and it's too late to have a real conversation about what we’re doing.”

“You'll be more comfortable in your bed,” Baker says, turning around to kiss Hannah again. She groans when it's over. “I promise I'll keep my hands to myself, I just want to do that more.” Hannah chews at her inner cheek, and Baker puts a hand on her hip. “Unless kissing me is the thing you'll regret.”

“No!” Hannah says. “Of course not. I'm just scared we’ll get carried away.”

“Clothes on,” Baker promises. “Full PJs, none of those flimsy tank tops you like to call clothes.”

“Me?” Hannah laughs. “You're the one who walks around in a sports bra and spandex shorts.”

“You love it,” Baker teases. It's the same sort of thing she’d say before if Hannah made fun of her, but now her words carry a different weight. “Please,” she says softly, placing her hands on Hannah’s waist. “I just want to be close to you.”

Hannah pauses for a moment as if she's ever had the power to say no to Baker before letting out what she hopes sounds like a reluctant sigh. “Fine,” she says, gladly accepting the kiss Baker places on her lips in appreciation. Her questions can wait, she decides. Making up for all the time she's wasted not kissing Baker can't.

Chapter Text

Hannah has woken up next to Baker enough times that she thinks she should be used to it, but none of those times can compare to waking up next to Baker like this, after they spent the whole night kissing and cuddling and kissing some more.

Baker stayed true to her word, her hands only ever venturing to Hannah’s hips and shoulders as they kissed, but when Hannah fell asleep she definitely dreamt of them going elsewhere.

Some part deep inside her jolts when she wakes up as if she's definitely coming out of a dream, and another part braces itself for Baker to not be there, having changed her mind in the middle of the night. But when her eyes finally dare open, she sees Baker, looking every bit the angel of Hannah’s dreams, draped in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“Hi,” Baker croaks in her sleepy morning voice, so much raspier than usual. Hannah thinks she’d be okay with it if Baker never cleared her throat after those first few waking moments, but she always does, giving way to her normal voice, soft and gentle when she's alone with Hannah, loud and commanding on the pitch when she hasn't touched the ball in a while. Hannah likes both ways. She also wouldn't mind Baker being loud and commanding with her, but she tables that thought for another day… or night, rather.

Baker rolls over to kiss Hannah softly on the lips, neither one daring to open their mouth and face the morning breath conundrum.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Baker teases.

“I was only awake for a few seconds,” Hannah protests.

“I know, I was projecting,” Baker says. “I've been up for like an hour watching you. You're beautiful, you know that?”

“If you say so.” Hannah kisses Baker again, almost in disbelief that she can just… do that.

“Can we just stay in bed all day?” Baker murmurs, her hand finding Hannah’s hip. She slips her thumb under the hem of Hannah’s pajama shirt, circling her hip bones lightly.

“If we don't get out of bed, I won't be able to stop kissing you.”

“That's fine by me.”

“It doesn't allow for much talking.”

“Like I said, fine by me.”

“Baker,” Hannah says. Her voice is still soft, but her tone is serious. Baker blinks up at her, and she groans before rolling away from her and stumbling out of her bed. “We have to talk. And we can't talk if I can't stop kissing you, and there's a very real danger of that as long as you keep looking at me like that.”

“I've been looking at you like this for a long time,” Baker says. “It's about time you noticed.”

The closest breakfast place is the one Clay works at, which Hannah refuses to go to, preferring to walk the extra few blocks to Humble Pie.

Baker laces her fingers through Hannah’s, whining about wanting an almond croissant.

“They don't serve mimosas,” Hannah says, forging ahead past the bakery.

“Neither does any other place for another hour and a half,” Baker whines. The outdated North Carolina law about not serving alcohol before 12 on Sundays has been the bane of Hannah’s existence for as long as she's lived here.

“Then I guess we’ll have to talk for a long time,” Hannah says decisively, squeezing Baker’s hand.

They do talk for a while, tiptoeing around real things to talk about what Sam and the rest of the girls posted on Instagram last night and debating whether Baker should unprotect her Instagram and make it fan-friendly because all the other girls on the National Team have theirs public.

Finally, they run out of things to talk about. Not really, because they could probably talk forever, but it's hard to find topics of conversation when you're both painfully aware of what you're avoiding.

“So,” Hannah says. “You kissed me.”

“I did,” Baker says. “Quite a bit. You kissed me back, though, so I think you liked it.”

“I did,” Hannah confirms. “I'm just kind of lost I guess. I never knew you were… are you?”

“Am I what?”

Hannah shrugs and raises her eyebrows impatiently. Baker takes a deep breath, putting down the piece of biscuit she was about to scarf down.

“I've always had feelings for other girls,” she says. “I just… didn't think much of it growing up. Part of me knew it needed to be a secret, not that I knew why for a while. When I started travel soccer, all the girls would kiss during truth or dare, spin the bottle, whatever. Just for fun. I mean, a lot of them are lesbians now, but a lot are straight too. It didn't mean anything. To them.”

“Did it mean something to you?”

Baker shrugs. “I had a lot of best friends,” she says. “Inseparable, really. This girl Madelyn and I would spend hours on the phone every night because I lived in Louisiana and she lived in New Jersey. We always wanted to room together, and I think I liked her like that, but she didn't. It ended before I knew to be heartbroken about it. We went to high school and she started cheerleading instead of soccer and didn't come back to any camps. I had other friends.”

“Friends you kissed?”

“Are you jealous?” Baker teases. “No. Once I got to high school, I learned a lot of stuff. I went to Catholic school, remember? When we were younger it was all about God’s love and Jesus and Mary and the saints and heaven, but in high school shit got real. It was all about wrath and repentance and confession and original sin. And all the ways we could sin and what the consequences would be.”

Hannah nods, remembering her own Catholic education in church and Confirmation classes very well.

“I was scared,” Baker says. “But nobody else seemed scared. They still partied on the weekends and had sex and smoked pot, and nobody seemed as terrified as I was. I did those things too, you know? They didn't scare me like the thoughts I had about other girls.”

Hannah feels her heart being squeezed like her rib cage is tightening around it, the feeling Baker is describing is so raw and familiar.

“In college and on my youth national teams, girls hooking up and dating was just part of it. Nobody really messed with me, I definitely stuck out like a sore thumb with my whole Catholic school background. But they knew I wasn't judgy and they could trust me I guess.” Baker takes a deep breath and presses her lips together. “I hooked up with a girl I was rooming with at a U-20 camp, and it was amazing. I made her promise she wouldn't tell anyone, and she didn't, so we kept hooking up. It was like practice for her, and for me it was just… I don't know.

“I compartmentalized,” Baker says. “I told myself it was like those other sins that people aren't scared of, the drinking and the drugs and sex and whatever. That stuff is a phase because everyone knows at some point down the road they'll settle down and repent and get married and drink in moderation. Those sins are… I don't know, they're things you do, not who you are. Making out with a girl on the soccer team, same thing. But if I were to date a girl, fall in love with a girl, marry a girl, that's a whole identity. It's one thing to do something that's sinful, but to be something sinful? That's terrifying.”

Hannah’s threat feels like it's closing in as Baker continues. She sounds like Shelby, so convinced that she could just get away with it if nobody ever found out. Like Hannah’s old roommate with an eating disorder who somehow convinced herself the calories didn't count if nobody saw her eating them.

“But then I met you,” Baker says, smiling shyly. “I told you, I knew from the first time we met that you were special. I don't know how. And then you proved me right. I just wanted to talk to you all the time, that's why I texted you with so many stupid random questions I could have Googled.”

Hannah smiles. “I was on my way to spend the weekend with Joanie when you called saying you were coming into town.”

“Oh my God, you ditched her?” Baker laughs. “I can't believe she doesn't hate me.”

“What do you mean when you say special?” Hannah asks. “What makes me different from all the other girls?”

“Okay, first of all, it was two girls,” Baker laughs. “And one of them was a one-time thing. And neither of them spent all night just kissing me.”

Hannah cringes. “Stop,” she whines. “I don't want to hear that.”

“I'm saying there wasn't anything beyond a physical connection,” Baker says. “I didn't want to hold their hands or lay on the couch with them watching one-star movies on Netflix or spend all morning in bed fully clothed and all snuggled up—which is something you still owe me, by the way.”

Hannah smiles, taking the hand that Baker extends across the table. “Before we do that, I have my own story,” she says. “I think it's really important for you to know where I've been too.”

Baker holds her hand the entire time, rubbing the back of Hannah’s hand with her thumb when she can tell it's hard for Hannah to say certain things. It's her first time telling the story to anyone beginning to end, and it's her first time in months saying Shelby’s name out loud. The whole time, Baker just watches her intently, digesting all the information while somehow comforting Hannah at the same time.

“I can't believe that, Han,” Baker says softly. “I'm so sorry you went through that. I'm so sorry I didn't know.”

“It's been a year and a half,” Hannah says, the statement more blasé than she feels. “It's okay. Live and learn, right?”

“Of course,” Baker says, nodding emphatically.

Hannah swallows hard, not excited about the next part. She lets go of Baker’s hand, knowing she won't have the strength to do what she needs to do with Baker’s soft skin against hers.

“You said nobody knew,” Hannah says. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Baker says. “Some teammates, I guess.”

“But not your parents.”

Baker shakes her head almost imperceptibly, but Hannah doesn't push for more. “Ms. Carpenter maybe,” she says. “I never told her, but I went to her a lot with theological questions and we talked through some things. I always had a feeling she might have suspected.”

Hannah had told Ms. Carpenter she was gay on their first day together, too scared that she would find out on her own, and it was the best reaction she’s gotten so far. Ms. Carpenter had looked up from the stack of papers she was grading, nodded, said “thanks for trusting me with that, Hannah,” and that was that. From that day forward, Ms. Carpenter was one of Hannah’s closest confidants, always open to talking about anything and everything.

“And boys?” Hannah asks.

Baker sighs. “I don't know, Hannah,” she says, exasperated. “Isn't it enough that I know I like you?”

“Of course,” Hannah says gently. “I was just wondering.”

It's not entirely true, of course. If Baker hasn't told her parents about liking girls, there's no guarantee she will. And just because she’s never felt about anyone the way she feels about Hannah doesn’t mean she never will again. And if that next someone is a boy and Baker’s life is easier without having to come out to her parents, what happens to Hannah?

“I would never pressure you to do anything you weren't ready for,” Hannah says softly.

“I'm ready,” Baker says, her eyes lighting up.

Hannah raises her eyebrows. “How long have you been thinking about it?”

“Having sex with you? Uh, months.”

Hannah puts the forkful of eggs she was just about to eat back down on her plate, coughing. “That's not what I meant,” she laughs. “I mean coming out to your family.”

“Oh,” Baker says. “I… haven't really. I figured I had a while longer before you figured out I was into you, honestly. But I've obviously thought about it as a general concept for years.”

“Is it the Catholic thing?”

Baker shrugs. “I don't know. My parents are cool about a lot of stuff. My brother lives with his girlfriend and they let them sleep in the same room when he comes home, probably because it would be more of a headache to get the guest room ready, but it does scare me still.”

Hannah nods. “I know the feeling.” She takes a deep breath. “My point is, I would never make you come out if you weren't ready. But I can't be with someone who isn't out, especially not to their family. Not after my last experience.”

Baker’s face falls. “Han,” she says softly. “Are you serious?”

Hannah wasn't prepared for this, for Baker to look quite this hurt, but she had gone through this in her head a hundred times on their walk to brunch, so she stays strong. “Yeah, I am.”

“Why can't we just see where this goes?” Baker asks. “It doesn't have to be, like, you're my girlfriend, we can just go on dates. I can take you on dates.” Her face lights up as if she just had the most brilliant idea.

“I really like you,” Hannah says. “So much. But I know I won't be happy if I feel like we have to hide all the time. And I want to be so happy with you. I couldn't stand it if that ruined our friendship.”

“Why are you punishing me for what she did?”

“I'm not punishing you,” Hannah sighs. “I'm protecting us both from ruining a friendship I really value and I think you do too.”

“We could ruin it anyway, you know,” Baker grumbles stubbornly.

“That's the spirit,” Hannah retorts.

“You know what I mean!”

“Look, we’re already fighting,” Hannah says. “I've been here before. I know how this story ends.”

“You don't know anything about being in a relationship with me.”

“No, but I want to,” Hannah says, squeezing her hand across the table. Baker flinches, so Hannah pulls back. “I'm willing to wait, Bake. Let's be real, it's not like I have any other prospects right now.”

“That girl at the bar.”

“If the girl at the bar were anyone you should be worried about, you'd know it,” Hannah says. “I'm not going to give you a deadline or anything, I just want to be your friend while you figure it out, the person you can trust and talk to about everything.”

“So why can't you be the person who kisses me through it?” Baker asks, pouting in a way Hannah knows she knows is ridiculously cute.

“Because I'd rather kiss you knowing you aren't holding anything back,” Hannah answers. “This isn't an ultimatum. If you don't want to tell them or you don't feel comfortable, I won't hold it against you. I'll still be your friend. But I have to protect my heart. I want to protect yours, too.”

Baker looks completely dejected, and Hannah can't really blame her. When you wake up next to your best friend after spending the whole night kissing and holding each other, it really fucking sucks to know you won't be doing it again tonight.

“Baker, please say something.”

“I don't really have anything to say,” Baker replies, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. “I get it. It sucks, but I understand.”

Hannah studies her quietly, nervous about the lack of eye contact.

“I don't know when I'll be ready.”

“I know,” Hannah says. “That's okay.”

“I think I'm gonna go home,” Baker says, fishing through her purse for money.

“Okay, I'll get the check,” Hannah says, looking over her shoulder for the waiter.

“I kind of want to walk alone,” Baker says.

“Bake,” Hannah sighs.

“I'm not mad. Or upset. I just need to think,” Baker promises. “I can't really think straight around you.”

Hannah would grin at the choice of words if she weren't so bummed out. It's not like she expected this to go differently, but part of her held out hope that Baker would just be ready somehow.

“I'll text you,” Baker says, leaving a $20 bill on the table that Hannah pockets to give back to her next time they see each other.

Later, when she's walking home alone, she wonders if the walk felt this long to Baker, too.

~

Baker doesn't even last the rest of the day before she calls Hannah, who picks up on the first ring.

“Hey,” Hannah says.

“Hey. Go out to your balcony.”

“Why?” Hannah asks, rolling off the couch already. She hasn't been able to lie in her bed alone yet, so she’s been lying on the couch in the living room since she got home. It still smells like Baker, but it doesn’t smell like sleepy Baker, which is a small victory.

“I want to see you,” Baker says.

When Hannah gets outside, she sees Baker sitting on her deck chair and waves. Baker waves back. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Hannah laughs. “You're a dork.”

“I want to tell them,” Baker says after a brief pause.

“I know you do,” Hannah says. “You will. When you're ready.”

“I'll never be ready,” Baker says.

Hannah feels her heart sink. “Why do you say that?”

“I know myself,” Baker says. “If I wait till I'm ready, I'll never do it. I just have to rip off the Band-Aid.”

“What are you…”

“They called me a few hours ago.”

“Baker, you didn't,” Hannah breathes, her heart beating out of her chest. Baker seems… calm? Which is a good thing. But Hannah had the most ideal coming out situation she can imagine, and she certainly wasn’t that serene when it was over.

“No, I didn't,” Baker says. “Not over the phone. But I'm going to. They called to say they’re coming to the next home game.”

“That’s next weekend.”

“Yeah.”

“Bake,” Hannah sighs. “I don’t want you doing it just because—”

“I do,” Baker says. Hannah gives her a look from across the courtyard, and Baker rushes to clarify. “I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for me. Being with you is a big part of why I want to do it soon, but… I want to be honest with them. I don’t think they’ll—I live on my own. They don’t pay for that much.”

“Baker, you don’t need to worry about that,” Hannah says, regretting the words as they come out of her mouth. She doesn’t know Baker’s parents well enough to say that. She just knows what Baker has told her and what she gathered from the two times she met them before. “I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Baker says. “You look really pretty.”

Hannah looks down at herself. She’s still wearing the same running shorts and T-shirt she wore to brunch. “You’re pretty.”

“I really want to kiss you,” Baker whispers.

“I know,” Hannah replies. “Me too.”

“I probably shouldn’t come over, should I?”

“Probably not,” Hannah agrees. “Self control and all that.”

Baker uses her free hand to count something, and Hannah can see a faint smile come over her face. “Six days,” she says.

“Six days?”

“Six days till you’re mine,” Baker says, grinning. Her bright smile glows under the Christmas lights she and Sam hung up on their balcony. “Goodnight, Han.”

“Sweet dreams, Baker.”

“Six days,” Baker repeats.

Hannah nods, biting her bottom lip in nervous excitement. “Six days.”

Chapter Text

Four days. Hannah has gone four whole days without kissing Baker, and she’s starting to feel like the wait will never end.

She also feels like Baker has been cleaning for four days straight. By Wednesday there was nothing left in her own apartment to shine, so she moved onto Hannah’s apartment to give it a deep clean, much to Hannah’s chagrin.

By Thursday afternoon, enough is enough.

“Oh my God, if you reorganize my books one more time,” Hannah groans from her stretched-out position on the couch as Baker pretends she wasn't busying herself with the bookcase.

“Okay, well what else am I supposed to do?” Baker whines. “I can't kiss you, and I have all this pent-up energy.”

“It's called nerves,” Hannah says gently.

“For the millionth time, I’m not nervous,” Baker huffs.

“Tell that to the layer of paint you're going to scrub off my table.”

Baker drops the cloth she was using to dust and puts her hands up. “Fine,” she says. “Give me something else to do, then.”

“We could play a board game,” Hannah shrugs. “Or watch a movie. Or go for a walk.”

Baker pouts, walking over to the couch and standing over Hannah, who pouts back up at her dramatically. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, Baker grins before lying directly on top of Hannah, face down so her head is buried in the crook of Hannah’s neck.

“What are you doing?” Hannah croaks, adjusting to the weight pressing down on her lungs as Baker slots her calves between Hannah’s ankles and settles in.

“You looked cozy,” Baker murmurs. “I was right.”

“This is against the rules,” Hannah groans, wrapping her arms around Baker’s waist.

The brunette shakes her head in the crook of Hannah’s neck. “Is not,” she murmurs. “You said no kissing, no holding hands, and no bed. This right here is very buttoned up.”

“It's the spirit of the rules,” Hannah retorts, but it's clear she doesn't want to fight this as she rubs circles over Baker’s back.

They lie in silence for long enough that Hannah notices the sun starting to set, at which point she finally lifts Baker off of her, sitting up. “Get up,” she says. “I'm taking you out.”

Baker raises an eyebrow. “Where?”

“Dinner and a movie.”

“That sounds like a date.”

“It's a practice date,” Hannah clarifies. “We’ll dress up, I'll come by and pick you up at 7, and we’ll go to this sushi place in North Hills I’ve wanted to go with you for a while. Find a movie you want to see and we’ll plan around it.”

“And after the movie?”

“Rules still apply,” Hannah says, to the fully anticipated reaction of an eye roll. “You'll thank me in two days when I kiss you again and it knocks your socks off.”

“Um, I definitely kissed you, don't get it twisted,” Baker says before grinning and clapping her hands together. “What should I wear?”

Baker orders the movie tickets online and springs for a shared popcorn and drinks, while Hannah pays for the sushi and a bottle of wine at dinner, which somehow evens out in the end thanks to exorbitant movie theater pricing.

Hannah finds herself more focused on Baker during the movie, an underwhelming comedy with far too few women for her liking. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Baker’s expression changed independently of the movie. She looked peaceful and calm, even entertained, most of the time, but there were a few moments Hannah caught her looking straight ahead, almost frozen in terror. During one such time toward the end of the movie, Hannah wordlessly takes Baker's cold and clammy left hand and holds it, feeling her speedy heart rate slow.

“That was against the rules,” Baker says once they're out of the theater.

“They're my rules, I'm allowed to break them.”

“Why did you do it?”

“I wanted to hold your hand,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “Is that okay?”

Baker smiles softly. “Does that mean I can hold yours on the way to the car?”

Before Hannah can answer, two girls approach them, smiling shyly.

“Hi,” says one of them, a petite blonde wearing a Wakefield Soccer sweatshirt. “I'm so sorry to interrupt, but can we get a picture with you?”

Baker’s eyes widen, and she looks at Hannah as if for permission before looking down at herself and her date night attire.

“Do you want me to take it?” Hannah offers, nodding toward Baker as if to reassure her that she looks amazing.

“That would be great,” the other girl says. Nothing about her overtly suggests she plays soccer till you look at her calves, which strongly resemble Baker’s.

Hannah snaps a few pictures and hands the phone back to the blonde girl while they fangirl over Baker.

“Have you been to any Courage games?” Baker asks.

“Oh yeah, we have season tickets with some of our friends!” the taller girl gushes. “I'm going to UNC in the fall to play.”

“That's so cool,” Baker says, her eyes lighting up. “Her sister goes there,” she continues, nodding at Hannah. “Well, she doesn't play soccer, but… anyway, maybe we’ll get to play each other in a preseason game next year.”

“Maybe!” the girl says excitedly. “Well, um, we’ll let you be, but thanks so much for the picture!”

“Yeah, of course,” Baker says, running a hand through her hair. “See you at the game tomorrow!”

The girls do their best to contain their squeals till Hannah and Baker have walked away, and Baker doesn't ask to hold Hannah’s hand again. Hannah just pretends she forgot the conversation.

“So that was kind of cool,” Hannah says when they get back to their building, pressing the elevator button to go up. The elevators have to be the slowest of any in Raleigh, but Baker already has blisters from her shoes, so the stairs are not an option. “Has that happened before?”

“No,” Baker says, folding her arms across her chest. “Not like that. Not away from games.”

“Look at you, your stock is through the roof.”

“Yeah.”

Something about Baker’s tone worries Hannah, but she steels herself for the worst. “If you don’t want to tell them…”

Baker’s bottom lip quivers, and she blinks quickly. “I’m scared,” she confesses, finally looking at Hannah. “But I want to do it. I want to be with you.”

For the first time, Hannah second guesses her declaration about Baker needing to be out to her parents. She doesn’t think it’s unreasonable, not after being as hurt as she was with Shelby, but if things go badly and Baker regrets it, she’ll never forgive Hannah. She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, but she can’t imagine letting herself fall even further with Baker and teasing herself with a few good weeks or months of really being with Baker and then having it torn away from her.

“I’m going to be nervous,” Baker continues. “I don’t want you to think it’s your fault. Weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Hannah says. “I had to rip off the Band-Aid too, I guess.”

“It’ll be okay,” Baker says, more to convince herself than Hannah. “You deserve to be with someone who can give you a real relationship, no holding back or hiding.”

Hannah’s stomach turns at Baker’s choice of words, using a hypothetical person rather than herself, but she takes a deep breath. This is about Baker, not Hannah. Even if Baker decided right now that she couldn’t do it and couldn’t be with Hannah because of it, Hannah wouldn’t love her any less. She would be heartbroken, of course, and it would be hard to go back to just being friends, but she does, she loves Baker, and Hannah wouldn’t stop doing that for the world.

The elevator dings, taking Hannah’s attention, and they ride up to Baker’s floor in silence. Hannah takes Baker’s hand as they walk down the hall, and Baker flinches at first, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Thanks for the date,” Baker says when they get to the door. “Practice date, whatever.”

“It was my pleasure,” Hannah says. “Thanks for the movie and popcorn and all that.”

Baker laughs. “I ate it all.”

“I was full!”

“I’m not complaining.”

For a second, Hannah thinks Baker is going to kiss her, and she knows for a fact she wouldn’t stop her if she did. Instead, she wraps her arms around Hannah’s shoulders for a hug, pressing her body as close to Hannah’s as she possibly can before kissing her on the cheek, which is sort of a gray area in Hannah’s rulebook, a fact of which Baker is well aware.

Hannah turns her head to kiss Baker’s cheek back, solidifying it as an acceptable display of affection for the time being. She can feel Baker smile underneath her lips, and before she knows it, Baker is kissing her cheek again, maybe a centimeter closer to her lips. Hannah takes the hint and plays her game right back, not caring how it ends. After a few more cheek kisses, Baker catches the corner of Hannah’s mouth, close enough to her lips that Hannah can taste the butter still on Baker’s lips from the popcorn at the movies, and lingers there, letting Hannah decide her next move.

“Not in the hallway,” Hannah murmurs, finally pulling away. Baker fumbles for her keys, but Hannah stops her. “Two more days.”

“When you put it like that, it makes me want to text my parents right now and tell them,” Baker grumbles.

Hannah smiles. “Sleep tight. I’ll see you… tomorrow?”

“You’ll be at the game, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Hannah says. “I just didn’t know if I’d get to actually see you after. When will your parents get here?”

“Sometime in the morning,” Baker shrugs. “I’ll have to check the email they sent with flight confirmation. They want to take me grocery shopping and stuff before I have to leave for the game, but I’m sure you’ll see them there. They’re leaving Saturday afternoon because they have some church function Sunday”

Hannah nods, hoping Baker is wrong. She doesn’t know how she’ll handle seeing them just before Baker tells them her news, but she smiles tightly anyway before hugging Baker goodbye.

~

Hannah still doesn’t know much about soccer, but she does know that whatever is going on on the field right now isn’t good. Not only has Baker not scored a goal, she’s barely touched the ball. And right now she’s yelling at a referee. Hannah doesn’t know if the tackle was foul or fair (whenever anyone goes near Baker, Hannah’s inclined to be a bit defensive of her), but she does know this isn’t Baker.

When she’s subbed off in the 60th minute for a defender after the Courage go down a goal, Hannah can see her anger building up. She’s Baker, so she’ll be fine, but Hannah wouldn’t want to have to be the coach right now.

After the final whistle, Baker shakes the opposing team’s hands before making a beeline for the locker room, not bothering to walk around the park for autographs or even just a wave to the fans.

Hannah isn’t completely surprised when she’s halfway out of the park and her phone lights up with Baker’s face. “Hello?”

“Can you come down here for a sec?” Baker asks.

“Where are you?”

“Locker room hallway,” Baker says. “Just go to where the security guards are. I told them to let you back.”

“Are you okay?”

“I just want to see you. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, see you in a sec.”

Hannah pushes past the crowd of people meandering without any urgency toward the exit and goes where Baker told her to. “Uh, I’m Hannah Eaden,” she tells one of the security guards, a skinny kid who looks like he got pulled out of his freshman philosophy class at NC State and threw on a uniform. “For Baker? Hadley?”

“Can I see your ID?” he asks. Hannah fumbles for her purse, but before she can find her ID, she hears Baker.

“Let her in, she’s with me,” she says, stepping outside to yank Hannah into the hallway with her. She walks quickly to an alcove, where she sits on a bench. “Everyone came back to the locker room and I just needed to breathe,” she says, burying her face in her hands.

“Baker, what’s wrong?” Hannah asks, sitting beside her.

“Did you not see that game?” Baker exclaims. “I played like shit. And my parents were here to see it.”

“Everyone has bad games,” Hannah says softly. “You did some really good stuff out there, but you know I’m not savvy enough to really nail it.”

Baker gives her a half-smile. “I appreciate that you try.”

“Of course,” Hannah laughs. “Is that all?”

Baker rests her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees. “I just feel like they came all this way expecting one thing from me and I’m completely letting them down,” she says.

Hannah can tell she isn’t just talking about soccer anymore.

“I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“I know you don’t,” Hannah says, rubbing circles on Baker’s lower back. “They love you. They came all this way to see you, not see you score goals. That’s what YouTube is for.”

Baker shoots her a joking glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious. Put on a happy face, that’s what they came for. They want to see how well you’re doing here. How happy you are. I know you’re usually way happier than this.”

“I am,” Baker says softly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so off.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Hannah says. “I love watching you play.”

“I mean in life,” Baker says.

“I’m sorry if I’m the reason,” Hannah says. “I don’t want you to be stressed about this.” She doesn’t have to say what “this” is for Baker to nod her understanding.

“They wouldn’t stop asking about you earlier,” Baker says. “They adore you.”

Hannah laughs. “They’ve met me like twice.”

“Yeah, but I don’t shut up about you. They’re really glad I have you. So am I.”

Hannah smiles, squeezing Baker’s knee. “You’ve got this, buddy. I’m here for you, whatever you need. Even if you want to wait a little longer.”

“I don’t,” Baker says. “But I was just—will you come to brunch with us tomorrow?”

Hannah raises her eyebrows. “Are you telling them tonight?”

“No,” Baker says. “I was going to tell them tomorrow.”

“At brunch.” Baker nods slowly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bake…”

“You said whatever I need, Hannah-bear,” Baker reminds her, but Hannah stays unconvinced. “Do you know why I played so badly tonight?”

“Because you were nervous?”

“Maybe partly,” Baker says. “But I didn’t like the formation. I do so much better when I’m not a lone striker. Even if I don’t use the other forward, having them there is comforting, knowing I have a partner whose ass is also on the line if we don’t score any goals.”

“I see where you’re going with this, but you’re not making this sound any more tempting,” Hannah says.

“I know,” Baker says. “I get it. I just… I’d really like if you were there.”

“I would love to hang out with you and your family,” Hannah sighs. “I just don’t know if I should be there for that.”

“I’m afraid if you aren’t there I’ll chicken out,” Baker confesses. “I want to do this. I’m ready. I just need a hand to hold.”

“That’s against the rules,” Hannah says with a small smile, betraying her own words as she slips her fingers through Baker’s.

“This time tomorrow I’m going to be kissing you,” Baker says, resting her head on Hannah’s shoulder.

Hannah lifts Baker’s hand to her lips, kissing it softly. “I can’t wait.”

~

Baker seems a lot more calm when she shows up at Hannah’s door the next morning, decked out in a yellow sundress that practically glows against her olive skin, which has gotten darker and somehow even more delectable with every week she plays in the sun.

Hannah feels almost underdressed in her sleeveless white button-down blouse tucked into her blue gingham shorts, but Baker tells her she looks great, so she believes it.

They walk to the restaurant where they’re meeting Baker’s parents, Hannah fighting the urge to grab Baker’s hand while Baker rambles on about the game tape she watched last night and her flip flops slap against the sidewalk.

The Hadleys are already seated when they arrive at the restaurant, the only place serving brunch on Saturday mornings with less than an hour’s wait.

“Hi, girls!” Jack greets, standing up to hug them.

“I love that dress on you, B,” Ginny says. “Hannah, you look beautiful.”

“It’s so good to see you again, Mrs. Hadley,” Hannah says. “You too, Mr. Hadley.”

Jack pulls their chairs out so they can sit. The table is perfect for squeezing Baker’s hand under, which Hannah does quickly.

No sooner does the waiter take their order than does the conversation turn from general chit chat to Baker’s game last night.

“We loved watching you in action,” Jack says.

Baker smiles tightly. “Sorry we couldn’t give you a better game.”

“Don’t be silly,” Ginny says. “We loved it, and we loved meeting your teammates after. You’ve got a great group of girls here with them and Hannah.”

“She takes after you,” Jack teases his wife. “Always beating herself up for things she has no control over. You can’t let it get you down. You didn’t have any help or service out there. I don’t know what your coach was thinking playing you as a lone striker.”

Baker smirks at Hannah, mouthing “told ya.” She turns back to her parents and sets her menu down. “I also had a lot on my mind,” she says.

“Is everything okay?” Ginny asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

Baker feels around for Hannah’s hand, which Hannah offers immediately, squeezing tight. “Yeah,” she says. “More than okay.” She lets go of Hannah’s hand and straightens her back. “I want to tell you guys something kind of important.”

Jack looks concerned, looking toward his wife, but Ginny keeps her eyes trained on Baker. “What’s up, honey?”

“You know how you always told me and Nate not to settle when it comes to love?” Baker starts. “Like, remember at our old babysitter’s wedding when you told us you hoped we would both find someone who treats us with kindness and respect? And how no matter what, you just want us to be happy?”

“Absolutely,” Jack says, nodding emphatically. “Then again, I’m pretty sure that babysitter got divorced before you graduated high school.”

“The point remains,” Ginny laughs. “That’s what we’ve always wanted for both of you.”

“Well, I think I found that,” Baker says. “Hannah’s that person for me.”

Once the words are out of her mouth, Baker reaches for Hannah’s hand again while she waits for her parents to react. Hannah tries to calm her heart rate, knowing that Baker will feel her pulse increase and that she needs to stay strong and steady for her.

Ginny speaks first. “I don’t… What are you saying?” she asks. Hannah can see the wheels in her head turning as she looks between the two girls. “Are you two…”

“Mama, I know you’ve been praying for the person I’m going to marry ever since I was a little girl,” Baker says. “That might not be Hannah, but I do love her. I’m in love with her. And she treats me just like you’ve always wanted me to be treated. So I hope you’ll pray for Hannah just as faithfully.”

“Of course I will,” Ginny says, her words barely above a whisper. “Thank you for telling us, Baker.”

“Daddy?” Baker asks softly, looking at Jack, who looks shell-shocked. “Do you have any questions?”

He opens his mouth then closes it again, shaking his head. “No,” he says. “You—if you say that, I believe you. You’ve always known what’s best for you.”

“Are you upset?” Baker asks.

“No!” Ginny exclaims before Jack can answer. “We’re just… I’m surprised. That’s all. It’s going to take us a little bit of time to digest this. Is that okay?”

Baker nods slowly. “Of course,” she says. “If you want to talk about it or whatever, we can.”

Jack stays mostly quiet throughout the meal as Ginny makes casual conversation with Baker and Hannah, careful not to veer into dangerous territory. When he finishes his meal, he excuses himself to go outside, leaving his credit card for Ginny to pay.

“Hey,” Baker whispers to Hannah. “Are you okay if I leave you here for a few minutes with my mom?”

“Yeah, of course,” Hannah says. Baker squeezes her hand and gets up to go outside. Hannah watches them through the window, talking for a few minutes and then, finally, hugging.

“He’s a good man,” Ginny says. “And a wonderful father. Change is hard.”

“I know,” Hannah says. “Baker loves him a lot.”

“Did she…” Ginny starts. “Was she scared? To tell us?”

Hannah shifts in her seat, unsure of how to answer that. “I don’t think so,” she says. “Maybe a little nervous.”

“How long have you two been… seeing each other?”

Hannah smiles. “Um, I don’t know how to answer that,” she laughs. “I haven’t, like, called her my girlfriend or anything yet.”

“But she said she was in love with you,” Ginny says.

“Yeah, uh,” Hannah says, the magnitude of Baker’s words finally settling over her. “That was news to me too.”

“But you love her too?”

“I really do,” Hannah promises. “She’s an amazing person.”

“As long as you know how special she is,” Ginny says with a grin. “Are you ready to go?” She glances outside and Hannah nods, grabbing Baker’s purse on the way out.

“Can we give you ladies a ride home?” Jack asks.

“Yes, please,” Hannah says, gratefully accepting Baker’s hand as they follow her parents to the rental car. Jack opens the door for them, and Hannah lets Baker slide in first. “Thank you, sir.” He responds with a tight smile that she isn’t sure how to read.

Jack finds street parking and escorts all three women to the elevator.

“Can we walk Hannah home before going to my place?” Baker asks.

“She cleaned it top to bottom,” Hannah adds with a gentle teasing poke to Baker’s side.

“So she was nervous,” Ginny says, smiling at Hannah.

“Another thing I get from my mom,” Baker laughs.

“You’re in for it, then,” Jack teases. “Her mom is a firecracker.” He smiles warmly at Hannah, wrapping an arm around Ginny’s waist.

When they reach Hannah’s floor, she leads them down the hallway to her apartment. Ginny compliments some of her new decorations, but Jack looks straight toward the door to the balcony.

“Hannah,” he says. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

Hannah looks toward Baker, who just smiles and nods. Going one-on-one with both of Baker’s parents right after she’s come out to them isn’t really Hannah’s idea of a fun Saturday, but Baker did something brave today. Now it’s Hannah’s turn.

“I have to admit, I never saw myself having this conversation with a young woman,” Jack says, looking over the courtyard instead of at Hannah. “But that’s no reason to let you off the hook.” He turns to her and smiles. “Can we sit?”

“Yes, sir,” Hannah says, taking a seat in one of the chairs Baker helped her pick out at Target. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“My daughter is one of the three best things that ever happened to me,” Jack says. “Between her, her mother, and her brother, I’m a very blessed man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can tell she loves you a lot, and like I said over breakfast, I trust her to make the best decisions for herself. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have extremely high expectations for the people she trusts her heart to.”

“Of course.”

“What do you like most about Baker?”

Hannah is caught off guard by the question, but she knows her answer immediately. “She knows her worth,” she says. Jack raises his eyebrows as if asking a question, so she continues. “She isn’t one of those people who makes herself less so others will feel better about themselves. She kicks my butt at every card game or crossword puzzle or anything, and she never apologizes. But when I play the same games with my sister, I beat her every time now. Baker makes everyone around her better because she refuses to hide how wonderful she is or be ashamed of it.”

Jack smiles, this time a real, full smile, and Hannah knows she’s said the right thing. “She’s a special girl—a special woman.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dad lectures are stupid,” he says. “I trust Baker. I will trust you in time.”

“She values your opinion a lot,” Hannah says. “So I’ll work hard to earn that.”

“I’m sure you will,” he agrees. “She doesn’t need to be taken care of, but I’m glad she has you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hannah says, her heart finally slowing to a normal speed.

“Ginny and I might need some time,” he says. “I know I won’t always say the right thing. But I hope you know my heart is in the right place.”

Hannah nods. “That means the world to Baker,” she says. “To me, too.”

The Hadleys say their goodbyes before taking Baker upstairs. Hannah knows she could be imagining it, but she thinks they both hug her extra tight this time.

~

Baker didn’t give Hannah a timeframe for when she’d be finished with her parents, so Hannah ends up falling asleep on the couch while waiting for her to text or call. A loud series of knocks at her door finally wakes her up, and she tries to shake away the grogginess as she gets up to get the door, running into her coffee table like a total idiot. She can’t wait to see the massive bruise that ends up forming on her shin.

She opens the door to see Baker, who’s carrying an overnight bag. “You really should give me your spare key, you have one to my apartment,” she says.

“Yeah because of your stupid fish,” Hannah grumbles, fumbling for the light switches on the wall.

“Excuse me, my fish is a genius,” Baker retorts. “So what, you aren’t going to kiss me?”

Hannah raises her eyebrows. “You aren’t going to tell me what your parents said after I was gone?”

“I was going to,” Baker says, rolling her eyes petulantly. “But I’ve been waiting to kiss you for long enough, and I’m actually offended that you haven’t swept me off my feet yet.”

“When I start kissing you, I’m not going to be able to stop,” Hannah says, stepping closer to Baker.

“I figured,” Baker teases. “Hence the bag filled with clothes.”

“You won’t need them.”

“I will when I have to go to practice on Monday,” Baker laughs, placing her hands on Hannah’s hips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Hannah says, staring at her lips.

“It’s your turn to make the first move.”

“I’m really proud of you, Baker,” Hannah says, glancing up at Baker’s eyes.

“Me too.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I want you to kiss me already.”

Hannah smiles, rolling her eyes and pinching Baker’s arm. She props herself up on her toes to kiss Baker, feeling the brunette’s lips turn up in a smile when they finally touch. Once they’re kissing, really kissing, Hannah feels like she’s floating. She wraps her arms around Baker’s neck, needing to tether herself to something strong and steady, before finally coming up for air and looking Baker in the eye.

When their eyes meet, Baker’s glassy with tears like she can’t believe it’s really happening, Hannah knows they’re thinking the same thing.

“So worth the wait,” Hannah murmurs.

“But I wouldn’t have wanted to wait any longer,” Baker replies, finishing Hannah’s thought as she leans back in for another.

Chapter Text

“Morning, girlfriend.” The first words Hannah hears when she opens her eyes come from Baker’s perfect rosebud lips, and she’d like nothing more than to start her day like that every day for the rest of her life.

It happened organically, the girlfriend thing, in the middle of kissing and caressing and kissing some more. Hannah had reacted to the word with surprise, but then Baker gave her a look that said “after all that, you better be my girlfriend,” and so she is. So they are.

It happened just before they addressed the whole “love” thing, an easier conversation for Hannah, knowing Baker had already (accidentally) confessed her true feelings.

Now all that's left is the matter of sex.

Well, there's probably more, but that's the only thing either one of them can think about. Hannah was so overwhelmed with finally getting to make out with Baker, really make out with her, taking her time learning all about her mouth and lips and neck, just barely scratching the surface of what there is to know about Baker’s body that she couldn't imagine how her brain would react to a naked Baker.

“Morning,” Hannah replies, turning her face so Baker can drop a soft kiss to her forehead. It feels so natural, like they've been waking up like this for years, but still so new and exciting that Hannah’s stomach does a few flips when Baker’s lips touch her skin.

“Want coffee?”

“No,” Hannah says, surprising even herself. “Just want you.”

“You have me,” Baker giggles.

“Mm,” Hannah murmurs, nuzzling into Baker’s neck. “I love the sound of that.”

“I love you.” Baker’s fingers toy with the hem of Hannah’s shirt. Her touch is light enough that she could just be absentmindedly playing with it, but when Hannah looks at Baker, she knows it isn't a mistake.

“Take it off,” Hannah whispers, jolting Baker out of her daze.

“What?”

“My shirt,” Hannah says. “It's a good first step.”

“First step to what?” Baker asks, a coy smile spreading across her face.

“Bake,” Hannah whines.

“You know, if you can't say the word sex, you probably shouldn't be having—” Baker’s teasing words are cut off when Hannah moves to straddle her hips, kissing her lips softly before sitting up and lifting her shirt over her head. “Oh.”

“Sex,” Hannah says. “Happy?”

“You really know how to romance a girl, Hannah Eaden,” Baker laughs, jokingly fanning herself. Her cheeks are pink as she takes in the sight of a shirtless Hannah.

Hannah was a little nervous for Baker to see her naked. After all, Baker is surrounded day in and day out by women who are almost as ridiculously fit as she is, and Hannah doesn't know how she’ll measure up. When Baker looks at her the way she is now, though, all those concerns disappear. Baker wants to touch her, wants to taste her, and Hannah wants anything she has to give.

Baker is so gentle at first, like she's afraid she’ll break Hannah, but every time Hannah makes a sound, her confidence grows and her touch gets a little firmer. She nips gently at Hannah’s inner thighs, making Hannah squirm and whine. Baker looks up at her with a devilish grin, knowing exactly what sort of power she has and loving every minute of it.

Hannah tries to stay quiet, but Baker seems determined to get her to break, raking her fingers down Hannah’s stomach while her other hand works between her thighs. Hannah comes in a series of gasps and whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut just to open them and see Baker actually licking her fingers.

“How are you real?” Hannah asks. She just meant to think it, but Baker grins and kisses her collarbone.

“I love you, Hannah-bear,” she says simply.

The spark that rushes through Hannah at those words might be better than the orgasm, but she doesn't dwell on it. Instead, she slips her thumbs under the waistband of Baker’s underwear as Baker hovers above her, dragging them down her legs. They get tangled in Baker’s feet, which makes her kick in frustration and somehow knee Hannah in the pelvis in the process, but Hannah is too turned on to care, and after Baker’s performance, too determined to make her feel just as incredible.

Baker doesn't have the same struggle as Hannah about being quiet, her gasps and moans filling the room so loudly that Hannah finds herself blushing uncontrollably. They can never do this at Baker’s, Hannah decides after a particularly vocal reaction. She’d never be able to face Sam again.

“Fuck, Han,” Baker says, gripping Hannah’s arm as hard as she can. Her ab muscles tense as she finishes, and she bites her lip as she relaxes into a serene postcoital state. “God, you're good at that.”

Hannah smiles, wrapping her arms around Baker’s waist as she spoons her. “I like making you feel good.”

“You're more than welcome to do it anytime,” Baker says, her breathing taking its time to return to normal. “Also, I think this is the best workout I've had in ages, and I'm a professional athlete.”

“The payoff is a lot more instant.”

Baker laughs. “Sorry I'm so sweaty, I'll wash your sheets whenever I can feel my legs again.”

“That's not the only reason we need to wash my sheets.”

“Good point,” Baker agrees. “Turn over, it's my turn to be the big spoon.”

Hannah follows Baker’s order happily. “We should, like, never leave my bed probably.”

“I agree,” Baker says. “Who needs food? Or friends?”

“At least we’d die doing something we love.”

“Yeah, each other.”

“How long have you been bottling up these horrible jokes?”

“First of all, they're great jokes,” Baker says. “But seriously, a really long time. You're the first person I've ever felt comfortable enough with to make stupid jokes like that. And cuddle naked with. And come out to my parents for.”

Hannah is quiet. “That's a really big deal,” she says softly.

“I know,” Baker replies, kissing the back of Hannah’s neck. “But it's over. It went well, and now I get to be with you.”

“What about the rest of the world?”

“Nope, just you.”

“I'm serious,” Hannah says. “What are you going to tell your team? Who can I talk to?”

“My team is going to know about you because I don't shut up about you as is,” Baker laughs. “They're some of my best friends, so of course I'm going to tell them. And probably bitch to them when you're getting on my nerves.”

“You love me too much to be annoyed by me.”

“I'm actually annoyed by how much I love you, so check mate.”

Hannah kisses Baker’s hand. “You probably should go back to your apartment at some point.”

“Ouch, trying to get rid of me that quickly?”

“Not right now,” Hannah says, pulling Baker’s arms tighter around her body. “I just mean we shouldn't U-Haul. It's going to be really easy with you living so close, and I know we’re going to want to see each other a lot, but you need your own space and I need mine.”

“Does that mean we can't have sleepovers every night?” Baker pouts. “That was going to be my favorite part of being in a relationship with another girl.”

Hannah laughs. “I'm just trying to set some ground rules. I don't want to be that couple that completely loses any sense of individuality, you know? Plus I don't want you to be afraid to be like ‘I need some space, leave.’”

“Fine,” Baker says. “But if you're dropping hints you want me to leave right now, my legs still aren't working.”

“This is the honeymoon phase,” Hannah says. “I never want you to leave. Until I inevitably do.”

“Fair enough,” Baker laughs. “But as for the rest of the world, I think I want to keep things low key.”

Hannah nods. “Okay.”

“I'm just so new to the national team and I don't feel secure enough in my sponsorships to just… you know?”

“I get it,” Hannah says. “Low key is the name of the game.”

“I don't want to hide it,” Baker says. “I'm not ashamed of you or this or any of it, there's just a lot I don't—”

“Hey,” Hannah whispers, cutting her off gently. “You don't have to explain yourself. I understand. One day you won't have to worry about any of that.”

“Thanks, Han,” Baker says. “But I still want you to come to all my games and stuff.”

“Obviously.”

“And come visit me at National Team camp.”

“If I'm not working.”

“Oh, I keep forgetting you have a job,” Baker teases. “Considering my season falls during the time you're off.”

“Convenient,” Hannah murmurs. “What are you going to do with yourself when I'm not at your beck and call?”

“Probably find a new girlfriend.”

“Not funny,” Hannah grumbles. “You aren't just gonna leave at the end of the season and go back to Louisiana and leave me behind, right?”

“I hadn't really thought all that out,” Baker confesses. “I know I'm going to be away a lot with the National Team anyway, and it's nice having a constant home base, especially when it's with you. But I'm sure my family will miss me.”

“You think quite highly of yourself, huh?”

“Hush,” Baker says, pinching Hannah’s hip. “Be nice to me or I'll stop snuggling with you.”

“I don't think you will,” Hannah says. Baker only has to loosen her grip around Hannah’s body for Hannah to whine and take back her words. “Okay, you've made your point.”

“Thought so.”

“You’re still washing my sheets.”

“If you can get me out of this bed for long enough, sure.”

“You can take a bath if you want.”

Baker’s eyes light up, and she lets go of Hannah to sit up. “Or we can take a bath together.”

“Have you seen that tub?” Hannah laughs. “I barely fit into it on my own.”

“So we shower,” Baker suggests, waggling her eyebrows. “Come on, it'll be sexy.”

~

Showering with Baker is the least sexy thing Hannah’s ever experienced. It sounds great in theory, but that's before you're freezing your ass off while your girlfriend hogs the water stream. Plus, it's way harder to have sex when you're so worried about all the ways this could lead to death (having that many ways to bang your head does not allow one to properly bang their girlfriend).

“That was literally the least sexy thing I've ever done,” Hannah says when she's done toweling off her hair.

“Not true,” Baker says from behind the refrigerator door, where she's rummaging for a snack. “Don't forget I saw you blow a snot rocket the size of my hand when allergy season started.”

“God,” Hannah groans. “Why do you even still like me?”

Baker closes the refrigerator door and smiles. “I like you because you're fun and nice and pretty. I love you because even that snot rocket was kinda cute. That's when I knew I had it bad.”

“That was like a week after you moved here.”

“When are you going to believe me about being head over heels for you from the start?”

“Maybe once we get a house with a massive Jacuzzi tub and a big steam shower and can actually enjoy shower sex.”

“I thought we weren't U-Hauling,” Baker teases.

“In the future,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “We have to plan, of course.”

“Can we have a big yard for Charlie?”

“And all the other animals you convince me to get with your annoyingly cute pouty face.”

“You mean the one that got you in the shower just now?”

“Let’s never speak of that again,” Hannah says. “Also I don't like you knowing your power.”

Baker shrugs. “I’ve gotten tons of soft penalties using that face on referees. I know how to play to my strengths.”

“That's for sure,” Hannah agrees, hopping up so she's sitting on the counter. “Hey, while you're raiding my pantry, can you make me mac and cheese, baby?”

Baker smiles. “Nobody’s ever called me that before. I like it.”

“What, mac and cheese baby?” Hannah teases. “Kind of a weird nickname, but I think it has a ring to it.”

“Shut up.”

“I like saying it, baby,” Hannah says, sticking her tongue out between her teeth. She stretches out her legs to grab Baker with her cold toes, making her shriek.

“You're insufferable.” Baker stands between Hannah’s legs and wraps her arms around her neck, kissing her softly on the lips.

“I can't wait to tell Joanie about us,” Hannah says with a grin. “Like two weeks ago she was on her high horse about how I run away from love and all this bullshit.”

Baker leans back to make eye contact and smirks. “Well, do you?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” Hannah admits bashfully. “Just a little.”

“No more, though.”

“Nope. I like this too much.” Hannah kisses Baker on the forehead to prove her point. “Staying right here.”

Later, as Baker and Hannah sit at the bar eating their mac and cheese, Baker interrupts the comfortable silence with a kiss to Hannah’s lips.

“What was that for?” Hannah asks, unable to control her smile. Baker’s lips taste like Velveeta, and Hannah doesn't think she's ever tasted something so perfect.

Baker shrugs, shoveling another spoonful into her mouth. “Just because I can, girlfriend.”

Chapter Text

Hannah will never forget the look on Baker’s face when she pulls up in a U-Haul on moving day. She’d told Baker she was borrowing a friend’s pick-up truck, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity, the irony was too delicious. Besides, having a U-Haul truck means one trip instead of five when moving out of the apartment building that had loved them so well—together and separately—for a year and into the little brick house with a Jacuzzi tub for bubble baths (at least that’s what they tell their families) and a big yard for Charlie.

In the weeklong packing and unpacking endeavor, Hannah finds that moving brings out the absolute worst in people, revealing all the cracks in the personality she tries so hard to have. Baker is even worse, probably because her everyday disposition is so cheery and solutions-oriented. When her cracks are exposed, it’s like a volcano that’s been under pressure and waiting to erupt for centuries.

Moving in with Baker, though, is one of the most romantic things Hannah’s ever done. Walking hand in hand with through the aisles in Home Depot, making decisions on paint colors, even sleeping on an air mattress feels exciting when she’s doing it with Baker.

Hannah’s Spring Break falls just before preseason and Baker’s next National Team camp, so they make the trek down to Baton Rouge to spend time with the Hadleys and, of course, pick up Charlie. Baker’s house already feels a bit like a second home (or third or fourth at this point) to Hannah thanks to the three long weeks they spent there over Christmas, crammed into the house with what felt like countless extended family members and sharing a bathroom with Nate and his girlfriend, Chelsea. Of the four of them, Nate was found to be the hot water hog nine times out of ten.

As a thank you to the Hadleys for letting them stay, Hannah drags Baker to the grocery store to get ingredients for a fancy home-cooked dinner Baker is convinced they’re going to end up messing up and having to order pizza. Hannah is determined, though, and marches into the store, list in hand before giving Baker her half of the list. They’re going to divide and conquer the grocery store before coming together and cooking (well, Hannah will probably cook while Baker drinks wine on the couch, but it’s all about compromise).

Hannah takes on the produce section because she doesn't trust Baker to pick out the right stuff after an avocado incident on a team taco night a few months ago that she’ll never live down.

“Hannah?”

“Mm,” Hannah says, not looking up from the tomato till she realizes that's not Baker’s voice. She looks up to see a familiar face grinning at her. “Ms. Carpenter! Hi!”

“Hi!” the teacher says, hugging Hannah. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming into town?”

“I'm sorry,” Hannah says, cringing guiltily. “We’re only here for a few days, but I'm so happy to see you! If you have some time to meet up for coffee sometime this week, we’d love to catch up.”

Ms. Carpenter looks confused. “We?”

“Babe?” Baker’s voice calls. Hannah turns to see her girlfriend walking toward them. “Oh my gosh! Ms. Carpenter!” She drops the containers of bread crumbs and pasta she had picked up in Hannah’s cart so her hands are free to hug Ms. Carpenter.

“I've told you a hundred times you can call me Kate,” Ms. Carpenter laughs, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “You two are…”

Baker blushes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Surprise?”

“I guess I need to go on Facebook more often,” Ms. Carpenter laughs.

“You won't find it there,” Baker says. “Don't worry, you certainly aren't the last to know. If you went on Tumblr, you might find a different story.”

In keeping things “low-key but not secret,” Baker’s fans have pieced things together. In some ways they know a little too much, but other theories they have are way off the mark. It drives them crazy that Hannah’s Instagram is private, which Baker finds secretly thrilling, but she drops just enough content on her own Instagram to keep people guessing.

Hannah knows it will get harder now that they're living together, but it's not like they act any differently in public than they would if they weren't in the public eye. Case in point: Baker calling Hannah “babe” in the middle of a grocery store where they're sharing a shopping cart.

“I would love to take you both out for coffee while you're here and hear the whole story,” Ms. Carpenter says, her eyes lighting up as she looks between them. “I hope I get some credit.”

“For sure,” Baker laughs, squeezing Hannah’s hand. “I still feel bad you had the flu, but if it led me to this one, maybe it was a blessing in disguise.”

“Maybe,” Ms. Carpenter says. “Well I'll let you two finish your shopping, but text me. I'm so happy for you both.”

After she hugs them both and walks toward the bananas, Baker wraps her arms around Hannah’s waist, pulling her in tight for a kiss.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Hannah murmurs. Baker isn't shy about showing affection back home, but Baton Rouge is still a completely different world. It had taken her almost a week to even kiss Hannah on the cheek in front of her extended family at Christmas, then another week to walk through the neighborhood hand in hand.

“I'm just really thankful that I get to love you,” Baker says.

“I didn't send you to the cheese aisle.”

“Hush,” Baker says, kissing Hannah again. “Let me be romantic. I'm just thinking about how many things could have gone differently and led us both down completely different paths, and I feel super lucky that I get to be on this one with you.”

“I feel lucky too,” Hannah says. “Now help me finish shopping so we still have time for a quickie before your parents get home.”

“That's all you had to say to get me excited about this grocery trip,” Baker teases, rolling her eyes. “Give me the damn list.”

~

The drive back to North Carolina is long and rainy and emotional (saying goodbye to her parents always puts Baker in a mood), so Hannah puts on her favorite rainy day playlist and holds Baker’s hand the whole way, Charlie licking their linked fingers every now and then, just to remind them he's there.

No sooner will they get back than will Baker have to leave for yet another set of friendlies, meaning Hannah and Charlie will be left alone to bond, for better or for worse.

Hannah knows she’ll miss Baker like crazy, especially because the house will feel too big and lonely without her (and part of her still isn't sure how Charlie feels about her), but this is the last camp before the World Cup roster will be announced, and she wants nothing more than to see the smile on Baker’s face when she's on it. She's a total lock for a spot, having secured the team’s win in the She Believes Cup with a spectacular goal in each game (two against France), but she won't take anything for granted quite yet. Probably ever, if Hannah knows her well enough.

“Promise you'll be okay?” Baker murmurs. Hannah isn't sure if she's talking to her or Charlie, but she nods anyway.

“Joanie’s Spring Break is next week,” Hannah says. “She’ll stay with me for a few days on her way back from the beach. I promise I won't go crazy. Or starve.”

“With Charlie though?”

“Bake, he's your dog. I'm going to take care of him just as well as I take care of Stan.”

“Dogs and fish have different needs.”

“You don't say.”

“Don't be snippy.”

“Baker,” Hannah sighs, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I will take really good care of him. And I'll miss you. And I'll take care of myself and cheer you on. I know it's gloomy today and you don't feel great, but we've made this work for almost a year now. It's going to keep working. Why so weird?”

Baker shrugs, staring out the window. “I'm always excited for camp, and I'm just not this time. I have a weird feeling. Plus I hate when you can't come. You're my good luck charm.”

“It's nerves, baby,” Hannah says. “You aren't used to those because you're such a confident badass chick. And you're homesick and you're going to miss me and Charlie, which I can't blame you for, we’re pretty great. But you don't need luck, even if I like being your good luck charm.”

Charlie looks up at the sound of his name and nuzzles into the crook of Baker’s elbow like he knows she needs to be comforted.

“What if I don't make it?” Baker says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Baker Grace,” Hannah says seriously. “You making this World Cup roster affects exactly one thing: you going to the World Cup. It doesn't affect your worth or how much I love you or how talented and hard-working you are. I believe in you, and I know you believe in yourself. What can you control?”

“My attitude and work ethic,” Baker mumbles, repeating a common team adage.

“And both of those are about as world class as I've ever seen,” Hannah says. “You've got this. And if it doesn't happen this time around, I have a lot of cuddles for you to take advantage of over the summer. Got it?”

“Well now I'm going to be sad about missing the cuddles,” Baker pouts.

Hannah smiles, pulling Baker’s hand to her lips for a quick kiss. “Luckily they don't expire. You can cash in anytime.”

~

When Baker is away, they have an almost militant call schedule depending on the time difference. This time Baker is in Texas, so she gets a morning text from Hannah before work and typically calls or texts Hannah at her lunchtime at school so they can chat for a little while. They FaceTime every night, at least for a few minutes, just so they can see each other’s faces (and so Baker can say hi to Charlie now).

That's why it strikes Hannah as odd to see a missed call from Baker during her free period and a text saying “Call me ASAP. Urgent. Nothing wrong. Love you.”

The text still sends Hannah’s anxiety into overdrive as she taps the icon to call Baker back.

“Hello?” Baker answers breathlessly. “Thank God. I have to leave for training in like five minutes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Baker says. She laughs. “I'm great!”

“Okay…” Hannah says. “Why did you ask me to—”

“I made it,” Baker squeals as quietly as she can. “The roster.”

“What? It's out?” Hannah exclaims. “Holy shit, Baker!”

“It's not out, this is top secret,” Baker says, shushing her. “My coach just pulled us into a room one by one and told us. I was going to call my parents after talking to you, but you legit can't say anything to anyone. Not even Joanie.”

“How about Charlie?” Hannah can almost hear Baker’s eye roll. “Baby, I'm so proud,” she says. “You know I'm proud of you every day, but God, Bake. You're amazing.”

“I love you,” Baker says. “I'll see you in three days.”

“I can't wait to kiss you,” Hannah says. “And take you out to celebrate.”

“Me neither,” Baker sighs. “But hey, this doesn't let you off the hook for our anniversary celebration.”

“Of course not,” Hannah laughs, counting the days she has left. It's still a month away, but she makes a note to herself to make the damn reservation already. “I'll take any reason to celebrate you.”

“I'll tell you more tonight on FaceTime. I just can't believe this is real. I'm going to play in a World Cup.”

“And I'm getting a sweet vacation to France with my super hot super talented soccer star girlfriend.”

“Better start brushing up on your French.”

“Oui, mon amie.”

Baker giggles. “I’m pretty sure that means friend.”

“And? Are we not friends?”

“I think you can find a better word, that’s all.”

“I’ll keep searching,” Hannah promises. “I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

Baker’s going to be a World Cup champion. Even if Hannah would never say it out loud for fear of jinxing it or putting Baker on edge, she knows it in her heart. Hannah can't stop grinning after she hangs up the phone, and it only gets harder when she tries to calm herself down to face her students.

The bell rings, signaling the end of her free period, and she tries taking a few deep breaths before students rush in, but before she puts her phone in her desk drawer, she sends one more text to Baker.

“Told you you didn't need a good luck charm,” she taps out. “You did this all by yourself. Badass.”

Chapter Text

An unanticipated side effect of being with Baker is forgetting to charge your phone, which Hannah realizes first thing Monday morning. She and Baker keep themselves busy all of Sunday by snuggling, watching movies, snacking, and snuggling some more. They keep themselves so busy that Hannah doesn't even think about her phone until she wakes up in a panic upon realizing it's Monday.

“Shit!” she exclaims, sitting straight up.

“What?” Baker whines from beside her.

“What time is it?”

“I dunno, dark,” Baker grumbles. “Go back to sleep.”

“It's Monday!” Hannah exclaims. “Don't you have training?”

“Yeah, at like 9,” Baker yawns. “It's…” she looks at her phone, which she responsibly plugged in and placed on the nightstand. “6:17. Go to sleep.”

“I didn't set my alarm, I panicked,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes as she fumbles toward her nightstand, where her phone lies facedown. Dead. “Ugh.”

“I told you not to schedule early tutoring sessions, Han,” Baker says, rolling over so she's closer to Hannah.

“My first one isn't till afternoon.”

“So you listened.” Baker smiles against Hannah’s arm. “Come on, kiss me till I fall asleep again.”

Hannah doesn't take any more convincing, and the next time she opens her eyes, sunlight is streaming through her window. “Up,” she murmurs. “You have to get ready.”

Baker whimpers and turns to nuzzle Hannah’s neck before thinking better of it, realizing she would probably not make it out of bed if she started cuddling with Hannah again. “Fine,” she grumbles, rolling out of bed to go to the bathroom and brush her teeth.

Out of habit, Hannah reaches for her phone. She hasn't left her phone that long in a while, but for the most part her notifications are normal. A few group messages with her family, some texts from friends, a couple of emails. But then there's Joanie. Twelve missed calls, 36 texts, and three voicemails. Shit.

“What's up?” Baker calls. Hannah must have said that last part out loud.

“My sister called me a million times yesterday,” Hannah groans, already in the process of calling Joanie back.

“Fucking finally!” Joanie answers in a huff.

“I know, I'm sorry,” Hannah says. “My phone died.”

“No kidding!” Joanie exclaims. “What if I had been dying?”

“Were you?”

“Close!”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “Joanie.”

“My period was late,” Joanie huffs. “I was freaking out and you weren't there for moral support. What are big sisters good for if not talking little sisters down from pregnancy scares?”

“To be fair, I don't have much experience with that.”

“It's the thought that counts. I'm not pregnant, by the way.”

“Thank God, I'm not ready to be an aunt,” Hannah laughs.

“I'm glad you think this is funny,” Joanie grumbles. “What were you even doing?”

Hannah smirks to herself, propping herself up against the headboard. “I don't know, what would be an acceptable excuse?”

“You were dead or on fire or finally getting it on with Baker.”

“Fine,” Hannah says. “I was hooking up with Baker.”

Baker peeks out of the bathroom and narrows her eyes at Hannah, toothbrush in her mouth.

“Haha,” Joanie deadpans. “I'm just relieved I’m not going to be a mom anytime soon, so you're off the hook. What were you actually doing?”

Hannah holds the phone up toward Baker and puts it on speaker. “Say hi,” she mouths.

“Hi Joanie,” Baker calls.

“Who's-- oh my God,” Joanie gasps. “Are you kidding? Are you literally fucking with me right now? You had sex with Baker?”

“You're on speaker,” Baker laughs.

“How did you-- what the hell?” Joanie exclaims. “When did this happen?”

“Officially, Saturday,” Baker says, sitting on the bed at Hannah’s feet.

“And you waited more than 24 hours to tell me? Sisterhood and friendship canceled.”

“You can't really blame me, even you've said how gorgeous she is. If you could have spent all that time making out with her, wouldn't you?”

“No,” Joanie says. “But I get it. Kinda. Oh my God, you legit had sex. I was starting to think it would never happen again. After you totally turned down that girl who gave you all those--”

“Joanie!” Hannah exclaims. “Speaker! Jesus.”

Baker smirks, raising an eyebrow to make an expression that says “we’re revisiting that one later.”

“Sorry,” Joanie says. “Wait, so are you girlfriends now? Or just fuck buddies?”

“I'm never telling you anything ever again.”

“Stop,” Joanie whines. “I love you two even more together. Can I come visit?”

“If you don't mind sleeping on the couch,” Baker teases.

“You forget I already had to do that before you two got your acts together and admitted you liked each other, but now I'm just going to sleep in between you.”

“Don't you have class to get to?” Hannah asks, rolling her eyes.

“Crap, I actually do,” Joanie groans. “I'm serious about the visit, though.”

“You're welcome anytime,” Baker says.

Hannah gives her a look and amends the offer to Joanie. “Almost anytime.”

Chapter Text

Hannah hears it before she sees it. A near chance, a steal, a counter, a scream. Her eyes scan quickly for Baker on the TV, but it isn't until the referee blows the whistle to stop play that the cameras go back to Baker. Later, she’ll be happy they didn't catch it on camera. The sickening crack ringing through her ears is enough for her imagination.

Baker doesn't flop. She doesn't exaggerate. She doesn't stay down. It's an unspoken rule between her and everyone who loves her. If you're okay, get up. Wave. Do something so we know you're okay.

This time, Baker stays down on the ground, clutching her leg. Writhing in pain. Tears streaming down her face. Baker barely cries in front of Hannah, let alone the whole of America.

Hannah wants to cover her eyes, but she can't, holding out hope that Baker will give her their sign by blowing a kiss and ending with a thumbs up. That's what she's supposed to do when Hannah shouldn't worry. But their sign seems to be the last thing on Baker’s mind when Alex Morgan waves the trainers over.

Nobody seems to know what happened because the camera was elsewhere at the time, which makes Hannah even angrier at whoever did this. If the camera wasn't on Baker, surely she wasn't a threat. Was she tripped? Pushed? Stepped on? How did her leg end up at this impossible angle that makes Hannah sick to her stomach when she looks at it?

She keeps her eyes trained on Baker’s face, which is contorted in pain. She keeps shaking her head when the trainers ask her things, and tears keep streaming from her eyes. She hears “broken” on the broadcast, which snaps her to attention. The World Cup is in two months. Baker made the roster two days ago. It isn't being released till after this camp is over, but the players already know. Hannah already has a reservation at their favorite fancy Italian place for tomorrow, when Baker comes home.

“Baker,” Hannah whispers to herself. “Baby, please get up.” Her eyes fill with tears as she sees Baker cover her face, her whole body shaking with sobs as she's strapped onto the stretcher. Her need to protect Baker takes over, and now she's pissed the camera is still trained on her as she's carried off the field.

She paces around their living room, completely lost about what her next move should be, till her phone rings. It's an unknown number, but she answers it.

“Hello?”

“Hannah Eaden?”

“This is she,” she says, voice shaking.

“This is Craig from US Soccer,” he says. “You're Baker Hadley’s emergency contact.”

Hannah breathes a sigh of relief. Finally, Baker’s anal tendencies pay off. She’s pretty sure her parents were Baker’s emergency contacts up until the beginning of this year when Baker changed them at January camp. “Yes,” she says. “Thank you. Can you please tell her I love her?”

He chuckles. “I will,” he promises. “I can let you talk to her in a second, but she's getting examined now. An ambulance is on its way, but it's likely she’ll end up in surgery tonight.”

“Tonight?” she breathes.

“I just want to prepare you for the worst case scenario,” he says. “We've got her taken care of, I promise she's in good hands, but if you want to fly out, I can make arrangements for you.”

“Really?” she asks. She’ll have to call in an emergency sub, but she doesn't want to be anywhere but with Baker right now.

“It's the least we can do, Miss Eaden,” he says in a voice that tells Hannah everything she needs to know.

Hannah texts Joanie, her parents, and Baker’s parents while she gives Craig all the information he needs to get her on a flight, her nerves lessening as she does something that makes her feel less powerless.

“Okay, you'll get a confirmation email shortly,” he says. “Would you like to talk to Baker?”

“Please.” Hannah can hear the phone being passed, then Baker’s small voice.

“Han?” Baker asks, her voice trembling.

“It's me, baby,” Hannah says. “How do you feel?”

“I'm scared.”

“I know you are. I'll be there soon, okay?”

Baker swallows noisily, trying to keep her whimpers at bay. “Yeah. Please hurry.”

“I'm coming as fast as I can,” Hannah says, a tingling feeling between her eyes forming as she tries to blink back tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Baker says, her voice breaking. “I don't want to do this without you.”

“Do what? Get surgery?”

“All of it,” Baker cries. “I don't want this to be happening.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Hannah says, wishing more than anything she could hold Baker’s hand through the phone. “I'll be there so soon. Joanie’s already on her way to watch Charlie. I have my bag packed, and I'm leaving now. Let the doctors take care of you till I'm there. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Be good, Bake,” Hannah says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Baker says. “Wait!”

“Wait what?”

“I don't have my phone,” she says. “So can you send Craig that picture I like? The one of you and me and Charlie at the park?”

Hannah blushes. It's not a scandalous picture by any means, but it’s so intimate, Hannah sitting in between Baker’s legs while Charlie sits between Hannah’s. Baker’s arms are wrapped around Hannah’s waist, and she's kissing that spot between Hannah’s ear and neck that always makes Hannah laugh. Joanie took the picture, but nobody else has seen it because Hannah still likes some things belonging to only her and Baker.

“Please.”

“Of course,” Hannah says. “I'll be there soon.”

~

Baker hears her before she sees her. Hannah’s never handled her worry well, and this time it seems to be an orderly on the receiving end of it.

“Baby,” Baker croaks, taken aback by how raw her throat is, surely thanks to some combination of yelling to her teammates across the field and sobbing in pain and fear and distress. She blinks her eyes open slowly, taking in the fluorescent lights and eventually, Hannah’s hand in hers.

“Sweetheart,” Hannah says calmly, a complete 180 from how she was just speaking to the other person in the room. “Do you know where you are?”

“Heaven,” Baker teases, but she can tell by Hannah’s reaction that it isn't funny this time. “You're here,” she says. “So I'm in heaven.”

“Ha,” Hannah says.

It takes a moment for it to sink in, though, where she really is. Why she's really here. And then the floodgates open.

“Are you in pain?” Hannah asks. “I was trying to get him to give you more morphine, but…”

Baker’s whole body shakes with sobs. She can't feel anything except for the searing pain in her heart, like a stake through the part that was full until a few hours ago: her World Cup dreams.

Hannah seems to figure it out quickly, because she stops frantically looking for a nurse and kisses Baker’s sweaty forehead instead. “You're okay, my love,” she says softly. “It's going to be okay.”

“No it's not,” Baker wails. “This is it. This is what I worked for my entire life. It's all over.”

“I know, baby,” Hannah says, and Baker thinks she hears her sniffle. “You've worked so hard. And it's not fair. Not at all. But it's far from over.”

Baker sobs uncontrollably, clinging to Hannah’s hand like it's a life raft.

~

The X-rays make Hannah feel sick, even more than she did when she heard Baker scream on the TV. By now it's all over the Internet, so even if she wanted to tweet out a quick update in response to all the people asking her for details, she wouldn't be able to face the app.

Everything the doctor tells her and the Hadleys registers, but Hannah feels like she's in a daze the whole time. She knows Baker is going to have a hard recovery physically, but she doesn't take the doctor all that seriously when he mentions the emotional side of things. Baker is tough. She's always been the strongest.

Baker plasters a smile on her face and convinces her parents she’d much rather recover at home with Hannah and Charlie, but as soon as they get home, the facade goes away.

Hannah sleeps in the guest room because Baker needs room to spread out at night, which she finds out after four nights of sleeping together when Baker finally flips out and yells at Hannah for her lack of sympathy. Hannah feels hurt at first, but she doesn't want to make any part of this about her. Baker is hurting so much more, and Hannah knows this is the “in sickness” and “for worse” of the vows they'll take one day.

The fights brew slowly under the surface but escalate quickly once they bubble up. First it's Hannah not feeding Charlie before work (she had figured Baker would do it, but Baker was in one of her moods and it took Charlie coming to their room and whining for her to realize), then it's the temperature of the house, then Hannah having to stop for gas when they're already running late for Baker’s appointment.

The whole time, Baker refuses to talk about it from any stance that isn't medical. She won't talk about how heartbroken she is to miss the World Cup, no matter how many times Hannah stands outside the door listening to her cry before knocking. She talks about her progress is in days and weeks and skills she’ll get back and when she can kick a soccer ball again.

But she's not healing, at least not as fast as she should be. And she's frustrated and angry, and Hannah gets it. She always apologizes, anyway, usually with a kiss, sometimes with some half-hearted attempt at being intimate with Hannah, which Hannah stops accepting after the first time. It's easier not to touch Baker at all than to be with her when she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.

The worst of the explosions stems from an argument about medicine. Hannah is the keeper of the painkillers, a role she happily adopted when the doctor suggested it, warning them both that there's always a risk of becoming dangerously dependent on them. She keeps them on top of the refrigerator, not completely inaccessible to Baker, but out of sight, and hopefully, out of mind.

When Hannah comes back from a quick trip to the grocery store, she sees the bottle of pills on the kitchen counter, several feet from where she left them, and Baker, asleep on the couch with her casted foot propped up on a pillow.

“Baker!” Hannah exclaims, rushing to Baker’s side. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Baker mumbles, opening her eyes slightly.

“How many of these did you take?” Hannah demands, holding up the pills.

Baker rolls her eyes and turns away from her.

“Answer me!”

“The normal amount, Han.”

“You took the normal amount five minutes before I left,” Hannah says, her heart picking up in pace. “I've barely been gone an hour.”

“My leg hurts.”

“So will your stomach when you have to get it pumped.”

“I’m in pain, I don't have a deathwish,” Baker says. “Can you get off my back?”

“I'm taking care of you!”

“My fucking leg hurts, Hannah!” Baker exclaims finally, her eyes filling with tears. “You try breaking your bone in half and losing all your muscle tone and somehow still managing to gain weight because you can’t fucking move more than a few feet at a time. You try being so close to your dream and then getting it ripped away from you in a fraction of a second. You try having hundreds of people expecting you to put on a happy face when you just want to cry non-fucking-stop. Then you can talk to me about how many pills I can take.”

“Baby,” Hannah breathes, sitting on the small sliver of couch remaining next to Baker.

“It hurts, Hannah,” Baker cries. “My leg hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Hannah says softly, brushing Baker’s hair back with her fingers. She knows it's not just her leg that hurts, but Hannah’s always been able to soothe all her other pains without a problem. “I know I'll never know how it feels. But I just want to help.”

“You can't,” Baker sobs, finally letting herself settle into Hannah’s arms as she cries.

It takes Baker’s doctor gently suggesting that she talk to someone to take care of everything going on inside her head for Baker to even recognize that there might be something to deal with.

She insists on going alone without Hannah waiting in the waiting room, but Hannah can't bring herself to go all the way home, so she drives to the Starbucks down the street after dropping her off and waits ten minutes after Baker tells her she's ready to be picked up.

“Thank you for driving me everywhere,” Baker says quietly after a few silent moments in the car. “I appreciate everything you're doing for me.”

“Of course,” Hannah says, glancing at Baker out of the corner of her eye. “Do you want to talk—”

Baker shakes her head firmly. “Not yet.”

“Okay. Whenever you're ready.”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Being patient with me,” Baker says. “Not pressuring me. I'm so—thank you.”

Hannah squeezes Baker’s hand and brings it to her lips. “Love you.”

“Do you know where the closest bookstore is?” Baker asks suddenly.

“Um, Quail Ridge is like ten minutes in the other direction, but—”

“No, that's okay,” Baker says. “How about Target? I need to pick something up.”

It's Baker’s first time in public (aside from doctor’s appointments, which don't really count because she isn't in danger of running into anyone) since her injury. Her Courage teammates sent flowers and magazines and candy, which Baker thanked them for, but she has declined all visitors so far. Even Joanie, who was going to stay in town after watching Charlie to help Hannah care for Baker, was told to stay away for the time being.

Hannah walks slowly next to Baker, who crutches along, refusing any help, to the school supplies section, where Baker scans the shelves for the perfect notebook. “Want pretty pens too?” Hannah asks with a smile.

“It's just a therapy journal,” Baker says, but she cracks a smile when she rolls her eyes, so Hannah grabs a 24-pack of gel pens and two “grown-up” coloring books, hoping maybe she can see another smile when they get home.

Instead, Baker disappears into their bedroom for a few hours, shutting out even Charlie. Usually she starts asking for her medicine about half an hour before it's time to take it again, but today Hannah has to knock on the door and bring it to her, along with a plate with half a grilled chicken breast, half a sweet potato, and broccoli, the only dinner Baker will eat. Baker hadn't worried about her weight a day in her life before this injury, but her body reacted to her surgery and sudden lack of activity in a panic, and she was determined to minimize the impact.

“Oh, wow,” Baker says, looking up from where she had been scribbling in her journal. “I didn't realize it had been so long.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” Baker says, smiling at the plate in Hannah’s hand. “I'll come eat with you in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” Hannah says, raising her eyebrows. “Cool.”

Baker follows her into the kitchen and takes her normal spot adjacent to Hannah’s. They eat quietly for a few minutes before Baker speaks up.

“Can I have a bite of that?” she asks sheepishly, staring at Hannah’s ravioli. “I'm kind of tired of this.”

“I can make you something else,” Hannah offers.

“No, you don't have to,” Baker says. “I don't want you making me special meals anymore. I'll eat what you eat. And when I'm better, I'll cook for you every night for six weeks to make up for it.”

“Do you also want me to spoon you tonight?” Hannah teases.

“That actually sounds really nice,” Baker says. “I miss you.”

It doesn't matter that they've been in the same house almost 24/7, she doesn't have to explain what she means. Hannah feels the same way.

“I miss you too.”

~

After Hannah and Baker spend that first night together, Baker tucked as tight into Hannah as she can manage with her cast, things start to return to normal, slowly but surely. Baker sits on the porch while Charlie plays in the front yard and the color returns to her face. She does her rehab exercises without pushing herself too hard and her leg heals. She allows herself visitors and gets dressed up for an anniversary dinner with Hannah. Her cast comes off and she gets to return to the pitch—at least to walk and get some touches on a soccer ball with her coach.

Baker is not a patient person by any means, but when she slows down and stops punishing herself for things that are completely out of her control, Hannah sees glimpses of the Baker she loves, and she knows she'll be back soon.

By the first day of June, the routine has become so comfortable that Hannah doesn't question the significance of the day until Baker comes home two hours late from her morning training session still wearing her shorts and training jacket and hands Hannah a gift bag.

Hannah racks her brain for any possible celebrations she's forgotten, but she comes up short.

“Open it,” Baker says, sitting as close to Hannah on the couch as she can.

A small card is nestled atop the tissue paper, and Hannah opens it to find a thank you card with a cartoon of a teddy bear on the front.

“Hannah-bear,” it reads in Baker’s loopy handwriting, smaller than usual to make it all fit. “I don't think I would have survived the last two months without you. Thank you for your selflessness, your patience, your hugs, and showing me what love looks like in action. I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to show you the same grace you've showed through this whole process, but I can't imagine ever being as good as you at making comfort mac & cheese. I’m ready to put this chapter behind us and start the next one, and I hope you are too. All my love, B.”

She signs off with a tiny heart that blurs through Hannah’s tears.

“Sweetheart,” Hannah says, turning to look at Baker. “You didn’t have to…”

“You have to open it , Hannah,” Baker urges, jostling the bag.

“Fine, but can I kiss you first? Geez.” Hannah leans in for a quick peck, and Baker smiles against her lips.

Hannah pulls the tissue paper gently till she sees a folded up shirt. When she touches it to pick it up, she realizes it's a jersey. It's not one she's seen Baker in, as it's the one designed for the World Cup. But it still has “Hadley 6” on the back, and Baker is grinning, so it must be okay.

“I don't…”

“Next chapter, Han,” Baker nods, unzipping her jacket to reveal her matching jersey. “The World Cup starts today, and I'm not playing in it. That sucks.”

“Baby—”

“It really fucking sucks,” Baker laughs. “But we’re going to watch it and cheer on my girls and probably cry when they win it all. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hannah nods.

“There's more,” Baker says, nodding to the bag.

Hannah reaches in to find a book, which, upon closer inspection, is the journal Baker’s been writing in for the past several weeks.

“I want you to read it,” Baker says. “Not, like, in front of me. Not even today. Just… whenever you want. You deserve to know everything going on in my head, all my nonsense thoughts, all my feelings. It's yours now.”

“But you love writing in it.”

“I got a new one,” Baker says. “I'm going to keep writing. For myself. But I'm closing this chapter.”

“Then I want to close it too,” Hannah decides. “I don't need to know.”

“It's your decision,” Baker says. “But I hope you do read it. There's some… dark stuff, but I also wrote some nice things about you.”

“Sex dreams?”

Baker rolls her eyes. “No, that's what therapy is for, you narcissist.”

“I swear to God if that woman knows about our sex life…”

“She knows everything, Han,” Baker laughs.

“I run into her at the post office!” In reality, Hannah had only run into her once, and they politely smiled and waved, but still.

Baker kisses her soundly, effectively ending the discussion. “I love you, Hannah-bear,” she murmurs. “Next year I'm going to be fit and ready for the Olympics, and four years from now, I'm going to be taking the field for the World Cup while you watch from the stands. With a ring on this finger—” She kisses Hannah’s left hand. “And my name on your back. Only it'll be your name too.”

They haven't talked about marriage since Baker’s incident, and the mention sends a spark of nervous excitement through Hannah’s body as if it's the first time they've ever discussed it.

“What time does the game start?” Hannah asks.

“An hour, why?” Baker answers, looking at her watch.

“We didn't get that Jacuzzi for nothing,” Hannah says, trying to lift Baker off the couch in a grand romantic gesture before giving up. “Jesus, how much muscle have you gained?” She playfully squeezes at Baker’s bicep, making Baker laugh and swat at her.

“Enough to bench press the shit out of any rookie who tries to take my spot before my first major tournament,” Baker laughs. “But wait, put your jersey on first, I want to take a picture.”

Hannah takes off her shirt and switches it out while Baker pretends not to ogle. “Down, girl.”

Baker rolls her eyes and throws an arm around Hannah’s neck, reaching her phone out to take a selfie. “For Instagram,” she says, snapping a few normal smiling photos. “And one just for us.”

Hannah turns to kiss Baker on the cheek while she smiles widely. “One day these will go to good use.”

“They already do, for me to look at before bed when I'm at camp.”

“Wait, do you really?” Hannah laughs.

“Yes!”

“Is that why you wanted the picture with me and Charlie before your surgery?”

Baker blushes. “Of course. I was freaking out and it calmed me down to look at it and think about that day. I love thinking about you when I'm falling asleep. It gives me good dreams.”

“Sex dreams, you mean.”

Baker rolls her eyes yet again, but she can't hide her smirk. “Sure, Han,” she says. “Definitely sex dreams.”

Chapter Text

“Do you ever feel like this is our second home?” Baker muses as she and Hannah browse the aisles at Michael’s, on the hunt for glitter glue.

Hannah laughs. “It might as well be, except Charlie isn’t allowed.”

“I feel like we could bring him and nobody would say anything,” Baker says. “Janet loves us.”

Baker and Hannah are on a first-name basis with the store manager thanks to their weekly trips for Hannah’s school projects and Baker’s crafts, her favorite way to keep busy during the off-season. Baker spends enough money on needlepoint (her Christmas endeavor) that Janet saves any school supplies that are being taken off the shelves for Hannah to take for free, which is a godsend on her skimpy classroom budget.

“Are you sure you don’t want thread to make me more friendship bracelets?” Hannah teases.

Baker rolls her eyes. “Friendship bracelets were so October. It’s all about painting cheesy quotes on canvas now.”

“Oh, forgive me, craft queen,” Hannah says with a grin, pecking Baker on the lips. “Another difference between this and our house is I can’t make out with you.”

“I mean I’m not stopping you,” Baker murmurs, leaning in for another kiss. Just before her lips touch Hannah’s, her phone buzzes in her back pocket. “Damn it.”

“They can wait.”

“I don’t recognize it, it could be a National Team thing,” Baker laughs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just find the glitter glue and check out. Meet you at the car?”

Baker nods, biting her lip as she answers the phone. “Hello?”

Hannah grabs a few more things, including a pack of sour gummy worms for Baker, and chats with the new cashier, who, as it turns out, knows way less about the store than she does. When she gets outside, Baker is just getting off the phone.

“Okay,” she says, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk facing the parking lot. “I know. Yeah. I will. Thanks. Me too.”

When she brings the phone down from her ear, Hannah sneaks up behind her and kisses her cheek. “Remember when I woke you up this morning and said the early bird gets the worm?” She holds up the package of gummy worms.

Baker turns to look at Hannah, her face expressionless. “I’m getting traded.”

“What?” Hannah asks, her heart dropping.

“That was the GM of the Courage,” she says, her eyes filling with tears. “They’re trading me to Orlando.”

Hannah wishes she knew what to say, but she feels completely blindsided, so she can’t even imagine how Baker feels. Instead of finding empty words, she wraps her arms around Baker’s shoulders as Baker sobs into her neck.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hannah murmurs, kissing Baker’s hair. “I’m here, baby.”

“That’s the problem,” Baker cries. “You’re here. Not there.”

“I’m wherever you are,” Hannah says, rubbing her back. “That’s the deal. Come on, let’s go home. We can talk it out.”

“And order Chinese?” Baker whimpers.

“Definitely.” Hannah knows it’ll take more than a few carbs to get through this one.

~

Charlie is (unsurprisingly) way more help than Hannah at being the support system Baker needs while Hannah orders and picks up dinner, so by the time Hannah gets home, Baker is smiling again, albeit with red-rimmed eyes behind the glasses she only wears when she’s reading.

“Feeling better?” Hannah asks, unpacking the food as she slides onto the barstool beside Baker.

Baker nods, smiling brightly. “I’ve been looking up open teaching jobs in Orlando, and there are so many options, babe.”

“What?”

“Okay, so there’s a Christian school—not Catholic, but I think that’s fine—they’re looking for an English teacher, but it might be middle and high schoolers, is that okay?” Baker scrolls down her iPad. “Oh, and like a million listings for private tutors in like, really rich communities. You could make bank!”

“Slow down,” Hannah says. “I’m not… I have a job.”

“Yeah, but in Orlando,” Baker says, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Why would I have to find a job there?” Hannah asks.

“Because you said you’d come with me…” Baker says. “Did I like, dream that up? I told you I’m getting traded and I cried outside Michael’s, right? I mean it’d be great if that were a dream, but I don’t think—”

“No, that happened,” Hannah says. “But… I love my job. I meant I would like, come stay with you during the season. And you’d still live here during the off-season.”

“Pre-season starts in March,” Baker says. “That’s three whole months where you’re here and I’m there. And then you have to go back to school in August, and if my season goes well, it isn’t over till October. That’s five months of the year we’re apart, not to mention all the time I spend with the National Team.”

When Hannah hears it put that way, she feels sick. When Baker was in residency for the Olympics last summer, Hannah didn’t think her heart would ever be able to take any more distance.

“Han,” Baker says, getting Hannah’s attention. “We’re on the same page, right?”

“I—I don’t know,” Hannah says. Baker’s face falls, so she immediately pivots. “No, we are. We are on the same page. I want to—I need to be with you. I just need some time to process this and figure out what to do.”

“What to do?” Baker asks, placing her hand over Hannah’s on the counter. “Honey, we don’t have a choice here. I can’t just not be traded. That’s not an option. I would never ask you to do something like this if it wasn’t unavoidable.”

“Double negative,” Hannah mutters under her breath. She's outgrown the habit of correcting people's grammar (especially Baker’s because she knows how much it annoys her), but when she's stressed, sometimes she speaks before she thinks.

“What?” Baker asks, exasperated.

“I know that,” Hannah says, rubbing her temples. “I know.”

Baker gnaws at her lower lip. “Hannah, I’m sorry,” she says. “I know you love it here. I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Stop,” Hannah says. “This isn’t about me.”

“It is!” Baker insists. “It’s about us. You’re part of that. It’s been almost three years. We’ve talked about getting engaged before the end of this year. Moving states away from each other is a huge step back. We’ve never done long distance before, not like this.”

“I think we both just need to take a breath,” Hannah says. “We have time to figure this out.”

“A few weeks.”

“So we can take a night to sleep on it,” Hannah says. “We aren’t going to figure out the meaning of life tonight. Let’s just have a glass of wine and eat our Chinese and have sex and forget about it till tomorrow.”

Baker pouts and leans her head on Hannah’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind skipping to the sex.”

“I’m better when my stomach isn’t growling,” Hannah counters, twisting Baker’s lo mein onto a pair of chopsticks and lifting it to her lips. “Come on, princess, eat your noodles.”

~

One night to sleep on it turns into two nights, which turns into two weeks, and they’re nowhere near figuring out their situation. When the trade was announced, Baker had to put on a gracious smile and thank the Courage for the time she spent with them and make some vague statement about how excited she is for Orlando. She knows plenty of the players, so she’s not worried about making friends, but Hannah knows how much she’s going to miss her Courage teammates and the other people she's met in North Carolina.

Hannah still doesn’t understand how a team could possibly rid itself of Baker, who, in her totally unbiased opinion, is the most talented player in the league, but she totally gets why another team would be so desperate for her. She still wishes someone would have run it by her first, at least so she’d be prepared for the fallout.

Baker’s the one who keeps putting off the conversation, justifying it by saying it's already too late for Hannah to leave before the end of the school year so they might as well suck it up for a few months. Besides, Baker’s new team, the Pride, is coming to Raleigh to play the Courage one weekend in May, and Hannah can come visit other weekends.

“I think I found a place,” Baker says between bites of popcorn one night.

“In Orlando?”

“Duh. I talked to the realtor and she said the owners will cover rent so I can move in when I get there for preseason but not start paying till April.”

“Were you going to run this by me?”

“Why? It's a month to month lease, it won't affect you.”

Hannah frowns. Baker’s right, but she's not used to being left out of big decisions. “If you like it, I guess it's your call.”

“It's so cute, look at this fountain in the backyard!” Baker exclaims, showing Hannah pictures of the house she’ll be living in alone. “I wonder if it'll be warm enough for Charlie to swim in the pool.”

“In June? I'm sure it will be.”

“Well yeah, but like, isn't it still kinda unpredictable there in March?”

“I'm not going to fly him down with me,” Hannah laughs.

“Right…” Baker says, furrowing her brow. “Because he’ll drive down with me when I leave.”

“What? He's not going with you, that's insane.”

“How is that insane?”

“Because you… this is his home, he's comfortable here, and it's easier for me to take care of him. You have away games and stuff.”

“And there are plenty of people to take care of him.”

“Yeah, or he could stay here and have me to take care of him always…”

“He's my dog, Hannah,” Baker says, effectively shutting down the conversation.

Hannah clamps her mouth shut and turns away. “I'm tired,” she says after a few minutes, trying to will away the burning sensation in her chest.

“Mine” isn't a familiar concept in their house. They've been together long enough that their closet isn't separated by whose clothes are whose, and they don't even have a system in place to split the bills or the chores. They do it all together, or one will cover for the other when need be. Hannah doesn't have to nag Baker about taking out the trash, and if Baker gets home first, she checks the mail. In her brain, Hannah knows Charlie was Baker’s before he was theirs, but her heart never got the memo.

“Hannah,” Baker sighs, reaching out half-heartedly as Hannah rises from the couch. “We have to figure out logistics.”

“I don’t want to talk about logistics when you refuse to be logical,” Hannah says without turning around.

“What the hell? You’re really going to get worked up over Charlie?”

“You’re the only one getting worked up,” Hannah says in her calm voice, the one she knows gets under Baker’s skin when they’re fighting more than anything else.

It works. Baker sets her jaw and folds her arms, a move that Hannah knows will result in a lonely bed if she doesn’t pivot. But she doesn’t feel like giving in this time. Instead, she doubles down.

“If you really loved Charlie—”

“You’ll regret finishing that sentence,” Baker says, putting a finger up to stop her. “Don’t you dare.”

“Use your head, Baker!” Hannah exclaims. “You can’t just do something because it feels good. There are things you have to think about. We’re adults, we have responsibilities.”

“If I went with my head over my heart, we wouldn’t even be together,” Baker retorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hannah’s in defense mode now.

“It means that I could be with a lot of people right now who wouldn’t come with so many…”

Hannah can see the exact moment Baker second guesses what she’s saying, and she just raises an eyebrow. “So many what?”

“Never mind.”

“So many what, Baker?”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“So many needs? So many issues?”

“So many damn complications, Hannah!” Baker exclaims. “You’re worth it, obviously, that’s not what I’m saying. But you have to admit being with me is more complicated than being with someone else. Someone normal, someone who doesn’t just have to up and move against her will, someone who doesn’t have to play it cool in public in case you get recognized.”

“You said you, Baker,” Hannah says. “You said you could be with a lot of people. Who?”

“This is a stupid fight,” Baker says, her face turning red. “You’re putting me in an impossible situation, and it’s really mean. You’re the only one I want to be with.”

“The trainer who asked you out at January camp?” Hannah asks. “He’d be less complicated.”

“Hannah—”

“One of the girls on your team? You wouldn’t have to explain away why you’re always together, and travel wouldn’t be an issue. What about the girl you slept with in college? She’d be much less complicated, I’m sure!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“That didn’t come out of nowhere! You didn’t just suddenly think about all my… complications! How long have you felt this way?”

“Literally forever!” Baker exclaims. “Before we started dating I went through everything that could possibly go wrong with this, but the night we first kissed, none of those things mattered anymore. I went into this knowing how messy and fucked up and complicated it could get, and I still chose you.”

“Oh wow, you’re such a big person,” Hannah spits sarcastically. “Do you want me to bow down and kiss your feet? Thank you, you kind and gracious soul, for taking pity on me and being with me despite all the reasons you had not to.”

“Keep being dramatic, it’s a great look,” Baker says. “This whole stupid argument started because you got more upset about the possibility of me taking Charlie to Orlando than you’ve gotten since I told you I was leaving.”

“Are you kidding? You’re jealous of the dog?”

Charlie whimpers, drawing their attention back to him. Hannah and Baker have an unspoken conversation with their eyes before retreating to the bedroom and closing the door behind them.

“I’m not jealous of him,” Baker says, her eyes watering. “I’ve been waiting for you to have some sort of reaction other than ‘okay, cool’ for weeks.”

“What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to beg you not to go? Drop everything here to follow you? Cry nonstop about how life isn’t fair because my girlfriend is leaving while you’re dealing with five times the amount of shit? Because trust me, I’ve considered doing all those things.”

“There’s a difference between being strong for me and being an emotionless void,” Baker says. “I’m trying to look at the bright side of things, but I can’t even think about it without crying. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave your family. Or my team. Or Charlie. I’m so scared and sad all the time and you act so unaffected I feel like I can’t even talk to you about it.”

“Of course you can,” Hannah says. “I'm your girlfriend, my job is to listen.”

Baker bites the inside of her bottom lip. “You aren't going to leave your job, are you?”

Hannah looks up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath before shrugging. “I don't know.”

“Fuck,” Baker says quietly, her voice breaking. “You know when you try to prepare yourself for something you literally never expected to hear?”

“You asked, Baker,” Hannah says, her voice defeated. “Of course it's not ideal, but none of this is.”

“You have a choice,” Baker says. “I don't. If I had a choice, I know I’d choose you every time.”

“You don't know that!” Hannah exclaims. “Not till you're in my situation.”

“Which is?”

“If I follow you, I leave my job working with people I love, I leave the friends I took so long to make, I leave my family.”

“But you get me,” Baker says, her voice turning into a whine.

“I get you when you aren't training or traveling or away with the National Team!” Hannah exclaims. “The rest of the time I’m on my own. No friends, no family. Put yourself in my position, Baker. Then ask yourself, do your teammates’ significant others drop everything to travel with them? Some of them are married and don't do that.”

“You'll make friends!” Baker exclaims. “You always do. You can be a teacher anywhere.”

“You’re missing the point so hard right now,” Hannah groans. “What if I pick up my whole life and follow you to Orlando and they trade you again? I can’t do this forever.”

“You knew the nature of my job when we started dating,” Baker says quietly. “You’ve always thought I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Hannah says. “You’re more than worth it.”

“So what changed?”

“What changed? You’re moving to another state!” Hannah exclaims. “I want to spend the summer with you, I want to take as many flights to see you as I can on the weekends, I want you to visit me every chance you get, but I don’t want to move. I just don’t.”

Baker opens her mouth, but no words come out. She blinks over and over like she’s trying to figure out how to react. Then, she lets out a gasping sob.

Hannah’s lip quivers, and she turns away from Baker, not able to look at her when she’s like this. Not when she’s the one who caused it.

Charlie whimpers outside the door and Baker turns to leave.

“Don’t,” Hannah says.

“I need to take a breath,” Baker says. “And a walk. Or something.”

“It’s 11 p.m.,” Hannah protests. “You’re not going for a walk alone.”

“Then I’ll go for a drive,” Baker says. “I just need to be by myself.”

Hannah considers stopping her, but she stops herself instead. “Okay. Be safe, sweetheart.”

Baker purses her lips and nods tersely before turning back toward the door and closing it softly behind her.

~

When Hannah wakes up alone, she never feels the need to stay in bed any longer than she must. Staying in bed warm under the covers is for mornings with Baker curled into her. When Baker isn’t there, staying in bed just reminds Hannah of how much warmer it could be.

Baker is already up in the kitchen when Hannah gets up, her knee pulled up to her chest as she drinks her coffee and scrolls down her iPad, probably reading The Skimm.

“I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

“I was quiet.” Baker doesn’t bother turning around at Hannah’s voice.

“Did you sleep in the guest room?”

“Couch.”

“That always makes your neck hurt.” Hannah walks up behind Baker, placing her hands on her shoulders, but Baker shrugs her away.

“I’m fine.”

“Baker—”

“We need to talk,” Baker says, finally turning to look at Hannah. Her eyes are red and puffy, almost bruised like she’s been rubbing at them all night.

“That doesn’t sound—”

“I got the place.”

“The place?”

“The house. In Orlando. I called the realtor first thing this morning, all I have to do is go to a notary and sign the lease. I move in next week.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“I don’t have to report for preseason for a few more weeks,” Baker says. “But I want to go sooner.”

“You mean you want to get away from me sooner.” Hannah knows she’s being dramatic, but some small part of her just wants to hear Baker deny it. That would be enough.

“I think we need some time, Hannah,” Baker sighs. “To figure things out.”

“What is there to figure out?” Hannah’s voice rises in panic.

“If you’re second-guessing us, I want to give you the space to do that,” Baker says evenly, like she has practiced that response a dozen times. Knowing Baker, she probably has.

“I’m not!”

“Well maybe I am,” Baker says. “Last night got me thinking about what I want in life, and honestly, I didn’t see myself at age 25 talking about marriage and kids and forever with someone. Having it all figured out, being settled with a white picket fence and a couple of animals and being married to my best friend, that sounds amazing, but it's not the only possibility. I don't want to regret anything. I don't want you to regret anything either.”

“We can wait,” Hannah says, her eyes filling with tears. “We don't have to get engaged this year or even anytime soon. I'll wait for you to be ready. Please.”

Baker takes a deep breath, steeling herself against the tears that threaten to return, their presence known only by the tingling behind her eyes. “You deserve your own life, one that isn't dependent on what happens to me.”

“No,” Hannah just barely gets out through the tears. “You can't do this. We can't—please. I'll move to Orlando. I don't care. I just want to be with you.”

Baker shakes her head firmly. “This is what I don't want. You told me last night I can't just make choices with my heart, so I'm making this choice with my head. I don't want you picking up your life and moving to another state just because it feels right to be with me. If you're hesitating about that, maybe you aren't as sure about us as you think.”

“I promise you, I've never been so sure about anything,” Hannah says.

“I can't do it,” Baker says. “If we’re together, I want all of you all the time. I know it's not fair. I know I'm putting you in a hard situation. I know I'm being selfish. I have spent the last few weeks trying to change that about myself, but I can't. I can't go to Orlando and get adjusted and start fresh if I'm always thinking about you—and trust me, I'm always thinking about you. I have to be able to look forward to what’s ahead, not worry about what's holding me back.”

Hannah is quiet. “Me?” she asks. “I'm holding you back?”

“That didn't come out right.”

“Sure it did. You've had all night to think about it.”

Baker sighs. “This isn't a break-up.”

“Really? Because it feels like one.”

“That's why I'm leaving early,” Baker says. “I have to tend to my heart, and you have to tend to yours. Being in the same house for any longer than we need to be is just going to hurt us more.”

“Do I have to get down on my knees and beg? Because I will.”

“No, Han,” Baker says, shaking her head. “I need this. You need this, even if you don't know it. I didn't know it till last night.”

“So what do we do?” Hannah asks, her voice breaking with desperation. “Am I supposed to just get up on Monday and go to work like normal? Are we going to talk?”

Baker closes her eyes and rubs at her temples. She must not have gotten that far in her deep thinking last night. “I don't want to see other people.”

The words make Hannah feel sick to her stomach, but she remains stoic.

“I think we need a little time,” Baker says again. “I want to remember how to be Baker, not just half of ‘Hannah and Baker.’”

“You're the same person I fell in love with.”

“The person you fell in love with wouldn't have left last night,” Baker says. “She would have fought it out even if we didn't go to sleep till 4 a.m.”

“But I still love you.”

“I know you do,” Baker says. “I love you too. So much.”

“Then maybe we do need a break.”

Baker lifts an eyebrow.

“I don't know what else to do,” Hannah says. “I wish you'd told me you were feeling this way before it all blew up.”

“I think it would have happened no matter what,” Baker says softly. “This isn't an easy situation for either one of us.”

Hannah blinks rapidly as she looks up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. “This fucking sucks.”

“I know,” Baker says. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Hannah says. “You're doing what you have to. I could have made it easier on you, but I didn't. This wouldn't be happening if I had.”

When Baker doesn't say anything, Hannah knows she's right.

~

When she first started dating Baker, Hannah had taken the Five Love Languages quiz, and Baker’s top result, far beyond anything else, was physical touch. Hannah’s was quality time, which in her mind, goes hand in hand with touch.

“So our perfect date is a night in, cuddling on the couch,” Baker had said with a laugh. That's exactly what they'd been doing when Baker decided they should take the quiz together.

“Made for each other,” Hannah had quipped back, kissing Baker’s cheek.

A week after the last time they had a night like that, Baker moves to Florida. She leaves without much fanfare, having packed up most of her things while Hannah was at work throughout the week. Hannah had come home while Baker was in the middle of a packing frenzy on Tuesday, and Baker had dropped everything she was doing as if packing in front of Hannah broke some sort of unspoken rule.

The week before Baker leaves is weirdly comfortable. They sleep in their bed together, they trade off turns making dinner, they watch The Bachelor and Supergirl and all their Shondaland shows, and they talk about their days. The only real difference is that they don't touch each other, not to kiss or hug or hold hands while walking Charlie (Hannah’s rule, which she claims is to protect them, but some part of her deep down knows she's doing it to hurt Baker).

It scares Hannah, how normal it all feels. Maybe Baker feels like it's a good thing, like they'll survive without each other, like they're better as friends.

That illusion shatters when Hannah closes Baker’s trunk to see Baker standing against the car, arms folded, lip trembling. Her instinct tells her to wrap her arms around Baker and kiss her temple, and this time she doesn't resist. As soon as she touches Baker, the brunette crumbles, betraying her otherwise cool exterior.

“Shh,” Hannah says, stroking Baker’s hair. “You're okay. It's okay.”

Baker buries her face in Hannah’s neck. “I'm going to miss you so much,” she cries. “I already do.”

“Me too,” Hannah says evenly, trying to keep herself calm. Her racing heartbeat might give her away if Baker weren't crying so hard.

Baker pulls back to look at Hannah, her eyes swollen and red and still just as brown and clear and beautiful as ever. “Can you kiss me before I go?” she asks. “I know you said—”

She doesn't have to explain herself before Hannah’s lips are on hers. Hannah doesn't remember their last kiss, so she's more than willing to give her one they'll both remember.

When Hannah pulls away, she hugs Baker quickly and then takes a huge step back so she won't be tempted to do it again.

“It's just a bad day,” she had justified to herself the day they went on their “break.” That turned into “it's just a bad week,” and now, for the foreseeable future, “it’s just a bad few months.” She knows this isn't the end by any means, but that doesn't make it any easier.

“I'll call you when I stop for gas and when I get there,” Baker says.

“Maybe text me,” Hannah says.

Baker nods. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hannah says. She walks around to the passenger door to hug and kiss Charlie, who's just excited to be going for a ride. “You be good, buddy.” He licks her face in response.

“Drive safe,” Hannah says, kissing Baker on the cheek and opening the driver’s side door for her.

“I will.”

~

Hannah gets three texts from Baker once she leaves. A “stopped for gas in Georgia,” “stopped for gas… an hour outside Orlando. Ugh. Traffic was hell,” and finally, “home sweet home!” with a picture of Charlie standing in an empty foyer. After replying to each one (“making good time!”, “sorry… at least you're close,” and “glad to hear it”), the silence begins.

Hannah sees every tweet, every Snapchat, every Instagram Baker posts. She sees how she's settling in, sees when the Hadleys come to visit and they go to brunch, sees the books Baker is reading, but she doesn't get to hear Baker gush about the characterization and how Hannah has to read them when she's done, and she doesn't get to pick off Baker’s plate when she doesn't like the side she ordered just because the waitress said it was her favorite and Baker didn't want to be rude.

Baker sends her texts from time to time, usually pictures of Charlie or her new house, sometimes “hey, look for my half of the rent check in the mail!”

Hannah always types out a few things she wishes she could say. “I miss you. I love you. Please come back.” She sends back a thumbs up emoji instead.

Meanwhile, she's a mess. Being at school sucks when she doesn't have coming home to Baker to look forward to. Being at her house sucks without Charlie or Baker to make it home. She goes home for a weekend, which sucks because all anyone wants to talk about is Baker. How is she supposed to explain what's going on when she doesn't even understand it herself?

She gets an email a week before the season starts from the airline with which she booked her flight for Baker’s first game as a Pride player, reminding her that her trip is coming up. She screenshots it and texts it to Baker. “Hey, I guess I forgot to cancel this. Should I…?”

Baker calls her five minutes later, breathless. “Hey! Can you talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry I’m all out of breath, I was just on a run.”

“You're in preseason, aren't you working out twice a day as is?”

Baker is quiet. “Um. Yeah. Anyway, I was hoping you were still coming. I'd love to have some support.”

“You mean besides half the stadium wearing your jersey?”

Baker laughs. “I'd love a friendly face in Orlando, that's what I mean.”

“It looks like you have a lot of those.” Hannah thinks back to the Snapchats of Baker shivering in ice baths with her teammates and laughing during training on the Pride’s Twitter.

“I just really want to see you. And talk to you. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“How are your students? Are they ready for AP exams?”

“For the most part,” Hannah says. “How’s Orlando?”

“Warm,” Baker says immediately before laughing. “Sorry, that’s my go-to response when anyone asks. Um, I like the team and the coach a lot. And I love the neighborhood.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is,” Baker says. “Listen, I, um, the sun is going down so I better run home. But I’ll see you? In what, a week?”

“My flight is Friday afternoon.”

“Okay, I have the screenshot you sent me, so I’ll plan on picking you up when you land.”

“You don’t have to—Do you want me to stay at your place?”

“It’s yours too, Hannah,” Baker says gently.

“I just didn’t—okay,” Hannah says. “I’ll let you get back to your run. Text me so I know you got home safe.”

“You know I will,” Baker replies. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Hannah says, more of a knee-jerk reaction than anything else, but it’s a good thing Baker hangs up as soon as it leaves her mouth, because the feeling of those words leaves Hannah frozen in place before she breaks down in tears.

~

Hannah uses the week to brace herself for seeing Baker for the first time, but nothing can prepare her for seeing Baker standing in her Pride training gear, still sweaty from practice, a huge grin on her face as she practically knocks the wind out of Hannah with her hug.

“You look good in purple,” Hannah says. It’s the only thing she can think to say, but it’s true. Baker looks good in everything, but she’s always looked best to Hannah right after working out (or having sex… anything that breaks a sweat. Hannah’s not picky). It reminds her of the way Baker looked when they first met and how she looks when she’s doing the thing she loves most in the world.

Baker takes her bags and chats the whole way to the car about all the things Hannah’s missed. “I have a surprise for you,” she says when they get to the parking deck, a gleam in her eyes. It’s Charlie, who almost jumps out of the window of Baker’s car when he sees Hannah. “He’s missed you,” Baker says. “Almost as much as I have.”

Hannah stays quiet on the ride home, scratching Charlie’s head as he rests it on the console and looks up at her lovingly. Baker has more than enough to say for them both.

“I want to give you the whole tour, but I’m disgusting and need to shower desperately,” Baker says, leading Hannah toward her room, where she drops her bags. “You’re, uh, good staying here, right? I haven’t exactly gotten the guest room set up, and the couch isn’t super comfortable to sleep on.”

“Sure,” Hannah says, but she isn’t sure. She’s even less sure when Baker starts stripping off her clothes in front of her out of habit. She must be staring, because Baker stops when she’s in only her sports bra and underwear.

“Not appropriate?” she asks.

Hannah rolls her eyes, probably overexaggerating how “cool” she is with it because why shouldn’t she be? They’ve lived together for long enough and been in a relationship even longer. “I just can’t remember the last time you were naked in front of me.”

Baker smiles, thinking back. “It was that morning,” she says. “The morning we… fought, you know.”

Hannah nods. “You were getting ready for a run and I was already dressed for work.” She turns pink at the memory.

“You were wearing a dress,” Baker says. “The green one that I can’t decide if I love or hate.”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “The boys don’t hit on me.”

“You’re really bad at knowing when people are hitting on you,” Baker teases. “I know from experience.” She bites her lip. “I kissed you goodbye and you told me to put some clothes on.”

“I didn’t have time to have sex,” Hannah says. “Even though we both really wanted to.”

It’s Baker’s turn to redden. “Well, when you left…”

“Don’t tell me that,” Hannah says, squeezing her eyes shut. She tries to will away the image of Baker touching herself, but it just becomes more vivid. “I wish I had just been late.”

“No you don’t,” Baker giggles. “You live for being on time. You’ll break out in hives if you’re less than 10 minutes early to school.”

“I just wish…”

“Tell me.” Baker’s voice is low as she steps toward Hannah, reaching out a hand to graze down Hannah’s arm.

“If I had known that was my last chance to… for a while, anyway…”

Baker nods, biting her lip. “Me too.”

Those are the last words either of them speak before they’re falling onto the bed, kissing and undressing each other, desperately pushing and pulling and whining. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, just hands and lips and tongues and gasps and shudders and finally, silence. The only sounds in the room when they finish are their heavy breaths as they come down from their highs on separate sides of the bed.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Hannah says first, breaking the silence.

“No,” Baker agrees.

“That was bad.”

“Really bad.”

“We have to talk.”

“I know.”

“That shouldn’t happen again.”

“Until we talk.”

“Until we talk.”

That’s the extent of their “talking” for the rest of the night, save for “please” and “fuck” and “oh God” and later—much later—“we should really probably eat dinner at some point.” They never make it to the kitchen.

~

Baker is off for a run in the morning before Hannah wakes up. Probably for the best, because if they had woken up together naked, they likely wouldn't have ever gotten dressed. She leaves a note in the kitchen for Hannah to find all her food and plates and utensils for breakfast, and she signs it with her typical “-B” and a heart.

Hannah pours herself cereal and takes a shower before cuddling up with Charlie on the couch for a marathon of whatever is on HGTV.

“Flip or Flop!” Baker exclaims from behind the couch, making Hannah jump. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “I forget how quiet the new doors and things are. Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yeah,” Hannah says. “You?”

“Better than I have in a long time,” Baker confirms, nodding her head. “I'm going to shower, but would you mind terribly if we just did this all day? I want to show you around town, but I want to chill before the game.”

Hannah nods her understanding. Baker has to be in the right headspace before a game, so no errands or crazy outings or hard conversations. Hannah’s perfectly fine with waiting for that sort of thing anyway.

Well, she is till Baker’s head is in her lap while they watch TV. It's a normal thing, but maybe a little too comfortable right now. It's the sort of thing a girlfriend does, not a girlfriend who you're on a break with but still love and spent the whole night banging.

“Up,” Hannah says at the commercial break. “You can't—I can't focus when you do that.”

“But last night…”

“Last night we agreed to talk. You don't work out problems by having sex.”

Baker shrugs. “I can think of worse ways. Doing it myself gets old.”

“Don't make me picture that again,” Hannah says, cringing. “I really won't be able to resist.”

“You aren't doing a great job of pleading your case”

“Last night was amazing,” Hannah says. “But I'd like to keep having sex with you. Forever, if I have it my way.”

“Same.”

“What have you been thinking about since being here? About me and you?”

“Everything?” Baker says. “The future, what I want right now, what you want, if those things even match up. My career. Everything.”

“So what is it you want?”

“You,” Baker says immediately. “I want to be happy, and you make me the happiest person alive. And I want you to be happy, and you're happy with me. At least I hope you are.”

“I am.”

“But there are other things that make both of us happy, and those are important too.. I can't be happy if I'm not playing soccer. If I had to choose between you and soccer, I would resent you for the rest of my life and I wouldn't be happy anymore. It wouldn't be worth the trade-off. Just like if I gave up you for soccer.”

“I’d never make you choose,” Hannah says. “I can promise you that.”

“And I don't want to make you choose either,” Baker sighs. “But I think sometimes we ignore the other things that make us happy for each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I'm at camp, I feel guilty for not being home with you and Charlie. Playing for the National Team has been my dream my whole life, and I hate that I can't enjoy it completely.” Hannah chews at her cuticles till Baker pushes her hand away from her mouth. “Stop that,” she chides.

“I didn't realize I made you feel guilty.”

“You don't!” Baker says. “I mean, not on purpose. It's just, like, little things. Obviously I miss you and everything, and I feel special when you tell me you miss me, but I need to figure out balance.”

“Is that what this break is about?”

Baker shrugs. “Maybe a little. When you said you didn't know if you would move here, I was worried. Not even that I would miss you too much, even though I do, but that I would feel so awful about leaving and feel too guilty to enjoy myself.”

“So… how do you feel?”

“I feel really good,” Baker says. “I miss you a lot. But I'm making friends and I love the team and I love being here.”

“I can tell.”

“How do you feel?”

“Horrible,” Hannah says. “I had no idea I made you feel like that. And thinking back on it now, it makes sense. So I feel like shit to be totally honest.”

Baker pouts, her bottom lip sticking out. “That wasn't my intention, honey,” she says, reaching out to touch Hannah’s knee. “I didn't even know that's what I was feeling till I had some time to step back and think about it. I got a therapist here.”

“That's good.” Hannah knew Baker’s therapist in Raleigh and always felt a little weird that she knew so much about Hannah, but it feels even weirder that someone Hannah’s never met now knows so many intimate details about her relationship. But it helps Baker, having someone to talk to, so Hannah would never stop her.

“I only realized I felt that way because I realized I was making you feel that way about not moving for me,” Baker says. “I was so scared of long distance that I freaked out. Distance is a bitch, but it's not forever. I love waking up next to you, but when I retire and we get married and have five babies, I'm going to get to do that every single day. We trust each other, which is half the battle when it comes to being apart. If you want to stay in North Carolina, you should. I can visit. We can trade Charlie. We can make it work.”

“What if I don't want to stay in North Carolina?” Hannah asks. “I've been so miserable without you. I'm not saying that so you feel guilty, just because it's true. I mean, maybe it's not even the being apart thing that makes me feel so bad, but not getting to talk to you, not knowing where we stand, all of that.”

“I get it,” Baker says, nodding. “That part has sucked a lot.”

“I have four more weeks of school, then I'm off. I'll do whatever you want, just say the word.”

Baker chews on her lip for a few moments, prompting Hannah to rub her thumb over it so she’ll stop.

“Terrible habit,” Hannah murmurs.

“Like biting your cuticles?” Baker teases before returning to her thoughtful state. “How about this?” she says after a minute. “Don't do anything crazy like quit your job or anything. Go back home—go back to Raleigh, I mean—and finish out the school year. Hang out with your family, do happy hour with your teacher friends, go get brunch with Sam and Lynn and everyone. Do all the things you'd do if I were there, just without me. Don't think about missing me too much, just… live your life. Then come spend the summer here.”

“Okay,” Hannah says slowly.

“I want you to spend the next few weeks knowing you and I are fine,” Baker says. “I don't want you to be miserable because of a stupid break, baby. And I don't want you to make a life-changing decision because you're so miserable.”

“I missed hearing you call me that.”

Baker smiles. “At the end of the summer we’ll figure out what comes next,” she says. “But you're my future. You're the only thing I know for sure I want in my life forever. And if you want to stay there, I'll support you and love you. And if you want to move here, I'll support you and love you.”

“I really don't like fighting with you,” Hannah says. “But I almost think I'd rather fight than not speak at all.”

“What if we make out instead?” Baker suggests, sliding closer to Hannah, so close she's basically on her lap. Her skin feels even better than Hannah remembers.

“It's game day.”

“Yeah, so I need a good warm-up.”

“If you insist,” Hannah murmurs, sliding her hands up Baker’s warm thighs as Baker stares at her lips.

~

The weeks leading up to Hannah's temporary move to Orlando are among the weirdest of their relationship up to this point. During their weekend together, Hannah felt like they were back to normal, but and their normal texting has resumed, but it feels like when they were first getting to know each other all over again. Baker sends Hannah pictures of Charlie and random questions about summer plans, but she only calls when she's driving and something comes to mind that she can't text. Their phone calls last five minutes tops, and Hannah doesn't send “good morning” or “sweet dreams” texts.

Still, when she pulls into Baker’s driveway (it'll take a while for it to feel like “theirs”) after spending the whole day on the highway, Baker greets her by jumping into her arms and kissing her senseless.

“Welcome home,” Baker says, her breath tickling Hannah’s neck. When Hannah squeezes her eyes shut and breathes in Baker’s familiar smell, she almost believes it.

~

Living with Baker is just as easy as it always has been. They snuggle on the couch while watching movies, they go out for nice dinners in the middle of the week to avoid a long wait, and they take Charlie for long walks whenever it's nice out, which is almost always, the most notable exceptions being those pesky Florida showers every afternoon.

Hannah doesn't go out with Baker’s teammates as much as she did in Raleigh, but that's by design. She has a plan, a plan she hasn't shared with anyone, least of all Baker. She keeps it secret by planning around Baker’s training schedule, but after one too many close calls, she comes clean.

Baker flies in from Portland on Sunday morning, and Alex Morgan drives her home from the airport. Alex Morgan, who lives right down the street. Alex Morgan, who's friends with Baker.

“You can just call her Alex, you know,” Baker laughs, tying her hair into a ponytail as she sits cross-legged beside Hannah, who has barely gotten out of bed yet.

“Oh my God, you are so not one to talk, alex13morganfanxox.”

“I told you my first AIM screenname in confidence!” Baker exclaims, grinning as she pins Hannah to the bed.

“Kiss me and I'll keep my mouth shut,” Hannah murmurs. Baker sighs dramatically, but she does it anyway. “So I have to tell you something.”

Baker raises her eyebrows, sitting back on Hannah’s thighs. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’d rather not talk about it with you on top of me.”

“Okay,” Baker says, slower this time as she rolls off Hannah.

“I met someone,” Hannah says. Baker’s eyes widen immediately. “No! Sorry. I really should have thought that through before I said it. I mean I met with someone. Like, we had a meeting. Strictly professional.”

“Professional?”

“I've been tutoring,” Hannah says.

“I thought you were taking a little break,” Baker chides.

“I told you that because I didn't want to get your hopes up,” Hannah says, sitting up. “You were right. After I visited you here, I was a lot less miserable in Raleigh. I still missed you like crazy, but knowing you were there on some level helped. And I know I'm not good at distance, I know I have a hard time when you're on your trips. But I thought maybe this summer could be, like, an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“If I could make my own life here, one that doesn't depend on you and your friends, maybe I'd be happier. I know I'm happier when I'm with you, but I don't want my happiness to depend on you for either of our sakes.”

Baker nods. “Are you happy?”

“I think so,” Hannah says. “Being here with you right now I definitely am. And tutoring makes me feel like I'm doing something important. It's how teaching makes me feel, just on a more personal level.”

“Well… good,” Baker says. “I'm really glad to hear that.” She squeezes Hannah’s hand and smiles, pressing her lips together like she's trying not to say anything else.

“I had an interview Friday,” Hannah says. “With a private school—well, they call it a prep school. I'd be teaching 11th and 12th grade AP English and maybe even a creative writing elective.”

“Hannah,” Baker breathes. “That would… did they make you an offer?”

Hannah nods. “It's… a considerable raise. It's still a teacher’s salary, but it would make a pretty big difference.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I'd have to talk to my girlfriend first,” Hannah says, biting back a grin. “What does she think?”

“I think she would be crazy to say no,” Baker replies. “But she also wants to make sure you're doing this for the right reasons.”

“What would those be?”

Baker shrugs. “Are you doing it for yourself? Do you think it's a good move for your career? Do you think you'll be happy here?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

“You promise I’m not a factor?”

“Of course you're a factor,” Hannah says. “You're always a factor.”

“Even after—”

“Always,” Hannah says, leaning in for a kiss.

Baker wraps her arms around Hannah’s neck and buries her face into her neck. “I'm so happy for you,” she says, her eyes watering.

“I'm so happy for us,” Hannah says, her hands finding Baker’s waist and squeezing. “I'll need to tell my family, of course. And go home and move everything down here.”

“I can help with that,” Baker says. “We’re playing the Courage in a few weeks, we can do it that weekend.”

“Okay,” Hannah says. “I guess I'll call the principal tomorrow and tell him I'm in.”

Baker grins from ear to ear, clinging to Hannah’s neck. “Is this real? Is this really happening?”

“Unless I wake up and it's suddenly a dream, yes,” Hannah says. “But Bake…”

“What?”

“You better not get traded again.”

Baker smirks. “I'll do my very best.”

Chapter Text

Baker thinks she’ll go crazy if she has to wait any longer. Christmas came and went without anything happening, despite Hannah’s insistence that they spend the holidays with Baker’s family. They even went on a romantic off-season vacation to Italy, where they drank wine and made out in a gondola and had sex literally every single morning and every single night, and Baker’s left hand came back to the United States pathetically unadorned.

It's not like she had planned to be settled by now—hell, for a while she hadn't even planned to be in a relationship at this point, let alone a nearly four-year relationship with a mortgage and a dog and two cats that wandered up to the house one day and never left. But now that she is settled in some ways, she's ready for the ring.

They've talked about getting engaged and married and all their future plans so much that Baker feels like a proposal is just a stupid formality, but Hannah insists that they do it properly, and she remains steadfast that she wants to ask Baker, not the other way around. Part of Baker is convinced Hannah is just milking it for the entertainment value of watching Baker get annoyed every time she calls her “girlfriend” when what she really wants to be is “fiancée” and eventually, “wife.”

It's a warm Saturday in March when Hannah, Baker, and Charlie are lying by the pool in the sun. Baker’s on her stomach reading a book she stole from one of her National Team teammates, and Hannah’s on her back playing Candy Crush when her phone rings.

“Hey,” she says familiarly, causing Baker to turn her head and squint at her in the sun. “Joanie,” she mouths. “Nothing, just laying out in the 75-degree weather here. Jealous?”

Baker smiles, perfectly content with only hearing one side of the conversation.

“I guess you'll just have to visit then,” Hannah continues, winning at Baker. She pauses for a bit to listen. “Oh, cool. Wait, really? Um, what? Since when? Yeah, maybe. Hang on, let me ask Baker.” She pulls the phone from her ear and covers the mouthpiece. “What are you doing next weekend?”

“Um, probably icing my legs the whole time because of the start of preseason.”

“You don't have a game or anything, though, do you?”

“Not till after the second week,” Baker says. “Why?”

“Joanie and Luke are house-hunting in Raleigh,” Hannah says, raising her eyebrows. “Wait, what did you say, Joanie?” she asks, pulling the phone back to her ear. “She says she's sorry it's last minute.”

Baker laughs. “I wouldn't expect anything else.”

“She asked if we wanted to come. I think I will, but you don't have to, I know you'll be exhausted from training.”

“No, I’d love to!” Baker says. “It sounds like fun.”

“Are you sure?” Hannah asks.

“Of course, I miss my favorite Eaden,” Baker teases.

Hannah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Joanie, we’ll be there. Okay. Sounds good! Me too. Love you. Bye.”

“Moving in together?” Baker asks when Hannah hangs up. “That's big.”

“They've been together longer than we have.”

“True. But we’re women. That's to be expected.”

“Okay, expert on all things lesbian.”

“Shut up,” Baker laughs. “That's exciting, though. Where are they looking?”

“Downtown and Cameron Village, mostly.”

“I'll call Lynn and Sam and let them know we’ll be around, maybe we can have dinner with the girls.”

“That would be awesome,” Hannah says, standing up from her chair before leaning down to kiss Baker’s forehead. “I'm going to go find cheap flights.”

“Use my miles!” Baker calls after her before turning onto her back to even out her tan. She looks down at Charlie, who's staring at her with sad eyes. Well, he's staring at her leftover PB&J mostly. “Sorry, Charlie,” she says, taking a bite. “Mama needs the energy.”

~

Baker definitely needs another PB&J on their afternoon flight to Raleigh. She had double days all week, so Hannah was nice enough to pack her suitcase and get everything ready so they could head straight to the airport after Baker’s early afternoon training.

She falls asleep on Hannah’s shoulder as soon as they board, and she probably wouldn't have woken up for another several hours if it weren't for Hannah gently rousing her when they land.

“We don't have to go out tonight if you're too tired,” Hannah murmurs.

“No, I'm okay,” Baker says, stifling a yawn. “I'll just take a power nap at the hotel and we’ll be good to go.”

Baker’s “power nap” turns into a three-hour nap that extends well past their dinner plans, but Hannah orders room service and a Pay-Per-View movie and turns their fun night out into a romantic night in.

“Pulling out all the stops,” Baker murmurs, eating a French fry. “Trying to butter me up for something?”

Hannah laughs. “I have you in my bed, what more could a girl ask for?”

~

Baker can tell Hannah is getting impatient at the third townhouse they visit. Joanie manages to find something wrong with every place, no matter how perfect and inexpensive it is, and Baker doesn’t know how much more Hannah can take on an empty stomach.

“What if we try one more place before we break and have lunch?” Luke suggests, sharing a knowing look with Baker. He’s the only other person on the planet who can understand what it’s like to be the significant other during an Eaden sister showdown, so he knows how to temper it before it gets out of hand.

“That’s a great idea,” Baker agrees, slipping her hand in Hannah’s. “Where to?”

“Don’t laugh…” Joanie starts. “We want to check out your old apartment building.”

“Why?” Hannah asks. “You know what it looks like and all the amenities and stuff.”

“Things could have changed!” Joanie insists. “Plus, Luke hasn’t been there. And we can eat at the brewery next door.”

“Fine,” Hannah groans. “Lead the way.”

Baker squeezes Hannah’s hand and gives her a sympathetic smile and a silent pep talk. After all, she’s the one who agreed to helping Joanie in the first place.

There’s a new girl named Kenzie working at the front office of their old complex who greets them excitedly and chats with Hannah and Baker about their time living there while she shows Joanie and Luke the gym and pool and lobby.

“This is a much better tour than you gave me,” Baker teases, squeezing Hannah’s hand playfully.

“So what floor plan are you guys thinking of?”

“Ideally a two-bedroom,” Joanie says. “But it might be more sensible to look at a one-bedroom.”

“Definitely not a studio,” Luke says. “We’d kill each other.”

Kenzie laughs. “That’s fine, I can show you both.”

Baker feels like she’s taking a walk down memory lane when Kenzie shows them around the two-bedroom apartment that’s almost an exact replica of the one she shared with Sam back in the day, minus a few updates and a new washer and dryer. She takes a few Snapchats for her with a “miss you!!!” caption.

Joanie can’t seem to come up with anything she dislikes about the unit, but Luke insists that they look at the one-bedroom, just in case.

Hannah rolls her eyes when she realizes there’s more that stands between them and food.

“Relax,” Baker whispers. “We’re almost done.”

Kenzie leads them down the hallway, explaining to them some of the less obvious differences they’ll find in the next unit. When she stops to unlock a door, Baker looks at Hannah in disbelief.

“Oh my God,” Baker laughs. “This is Hannah’s old apartment! How crazy is that?”

Kenzie smiles, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “After you.”

It takes Baker a moment to realize what she’s taking in as the door closes behind her and Hannah. The apartment is unfurnished, but a trail of rose petals leads to a small stool with a small wrapped gift and a Polaroid camera.

“Han, what—” Baker starts. She knows by now what has to be happening, but her brain can’t process it, too busy going back over everything that got them here. “How—”

“I wanted to have candles lit too, but they said it was a fire hazard.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to burn the place down and put these poor people out of their apartments for weeks,” Baker mumbles.

Hannah smiles, taking Baker’s left hand in her own as she fumbles around with her right hand in her purse for a black velvet box. She sets her purse on the counter without letting go of Baker’s hand and kneels down.

Baker’s head spins as she tries to focus on Hannah, but her eyes flood with tears and she can’t see straight. It’s so Hannah to do it like this, on an unassuming weekend in the most meaningful and romantic way possible without making it too obvious.

“Baker,” Hannah starts. “I could be wrong, and I know you’ll tell me I am, but I’m pretty sure this is where our love story really began. This is at least where I fell in love with you over the course of many weeks. It feels like so long ago now, and I know it feels like even longer to you—your hints aren’t subtle, baby—but being here and looking at you reminds me of how I felt when I was first getting to know you. If you had told me then where we’d be today, I wouldn’t have believed you because I was too busy preparing myself for inevitable heartbreak when you didn’t feel the same way about me. I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”

Baker’s lip trembles, and all she wants is to be squeezing Hannah and kissing her as hard as she can, but she forces herself to be patient.

“I love you so much more than I could ever put into words,” Hannah says. “Which is probably why I sound like a walking, talking cliche right now. But all I want you to know is I’m head over heels in love with you, so much more than I ever imagined I could be when I fell for you—and believe me, I fell hard. I never want to stop getting to know you and I never want to stop falling deeper in love with you, just like I never want you to stop loving me. It would be the greatest honor of my life to marry you, Baker Grace Hadley. Will you marry me?”

Baker can’t say anything without the tears falling even faster, but she nods and manages a “yes, of course” before Hannah is opening the box and sliding a gorgeous diamond onto her ring finger.

Hannah stands up and wraps her arms around Baker, holding her tight as Baker blubbers incoherently.

“Stop crying so much,” Hannah teases. “This is supposed to be a happy day, and this apartment is unfurnished, so I don’t have tissues for you.”

“I just love you so much,” Baker says. “And this was so worth the wait.”

“Good,” Hannah says. “That can be the caption of our photo.”

Baker laughs as Hannah hands her the present. “For me?”

“Duh.”

Baker peels back the paper carefully to reveal a small photo album Hannah must have pieced together in secret. It’s filled with selfies of the two of them over the years. There’s a photo of them with the keys to their first home together, a picture from their first Christmas together at the Hadleys’, the picture of the two of them wearing their USA jerseys for the World Cup Baker couldn’t play in, a picture of Hannah jokingly biting Baker’s Olympic gold medal, and so many more. There are several blank pages at the end, with a Post-It note on one saying “To Be Continued…”

“This is so thoughtful,” Baker says, kissing Hannah’s lips. “Maybe we should wait to take it till I can give you your ring, though.”

“No chance,” Hannah says. “I want to capture this moment right now. Smile.” She pulls Baker in and smiles at the camera in her outstretched arm as Baker flashes her ring for the camera. “Hey guys, she said yes!” she calls once the photo has printed out.

Joanie and Luke are the first to rush in, but they’re followed by a gaggle of Baker’s old teammates and friends from the area, all rushing excitedly to look at Baker’s ring. Well, besides Joanie, who’d seen the ring and is more focused on getting all the champagne out of the refrigerator she and Luke had stashed while preparing the apartment for Hannah.

~

After the champagne celebration and lunch at the brewery next door, Joanie and Luke drive Hannah and Baker back to their hotel to pack up their things and head to Hannah’s parents’ house for the night.

“Do you guys need help?” Joanie asks.

“No, it’s okay!” Baker calls back, pulling Hannah by the hand toward the elevator in the hotel lobby.

“We are not having a quickie to celebrate being engaged,” Hannah says.

“Shut up, I know that,” Baker laughs, rolling her eyes. “I just want to do something while we have a few moments of alone time.”

“Fine, I’m down to make out in the elevator.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Baker says, kissing Hannah quickly. “My ridiculous fiancee.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Baker practically runs down the hall when the elevator gets to their floor and directs Hannah to sit on the bed with her eyes closed while she rummages through her suitcase. “Now open.”

Hannah opens her eyes to see Baker kneeling in front of her, another black velvet box popped open. “Oh my God.”

“Will you marry me?”

“How the hell did you do this?” Hannah asks, incredulous.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a yes, of course yes!” Hannah exclaims, tugging at Baker’s hand.

“Stop that or I won’t be able to get this on you,” Baker chastises, sliding the diamond ring onto Hannah’s finger. “I’ve brought it literally everywhere for the past six months,” she laughs. “I wanted to be prepared.”

“That is so you,” Hannah says. “For what it’s worth, the proposal was supposed to happen way sooner, but the girl living in the apartment kept extending her lease every month.”

“How inconsiderate,” Baker murmurs, taking Hannah’s face in her hands so she can kiss her.

Both of their phones vibrate at the same time, interrupting their moment.

“Joanie,” they both realize, jumping back up to get their things together.

~

Not to be outdone, Hannah still has one more surprise waiting for Baker when they get to the Eadens’ house in Charlotte. She carries Baker’s bags along with her own, ignoring Baker’s protests, and it gives her the perfect vantage point to see Baker freeze in the doorway when she sees her parents.

“Mom? Dad?” Baker exclaims, running toward them.

“Surprise!” Jack says, grinning as he hugs her.

“I can’t believe you,” Baker says, turning to Hannah before looking back at her parents and hugging Ginny. “I can’t believe you two are here!”

“We can’t believe we weren’t invited for champagne!” Ginny laughs. “Come here, my future daughter-in-law.” She reaches for Hannah, who turns pink but walks over to hug her.

“Thanks for being here.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Jack says, putting an arm around Hannah’s shoulder. “Now let’s see this ring up close and personal.”

“Daddy, look at Hannah’s, too,” Baker says proudly, tugging at Hannah’s left hand.

“You both did a wonderful job,” Anne says, kissing both girls on the cheeks. “Now come into the dining room for dinner, it’s getting cold.”

“Not our fault Luke drives like a grandpa,” Joanie grumbles.

Hannah pulls a chair back for Baker in the dining room before taking the one next to her and placing a quick kiss on her cheek. “I hope this is okay,” she whispers. “I know it’s a little overwhelming.”

Baker shakes her head, looking around the table at some of the people she loves most in the world—her family , even. “Not at all,” she says, leaning her head on Hannah’s shoulder as she takes it all in. “It’s perfect.

Chapter Text

At the start of Hannah’s relationship with Baker, good morning texts were sort of an art form. They would race to be first each morning, and whoever wasn't first would try to make hers the best. Hannah usually won, by nature of her job, and Baker’s responses would take 15 minutes minimum, filled with emojis and pet names that she would cringe at anyone else seeing and sometimes even a selfie or two.

Now that they live together, the only times they send good morning texts are when Baker is at camp or on the road with the Pride. Now, Hannah has to actually consider time zones when she's texting Baker, never wanting to wake her up at 4 a.m. in California on a game day. Usually, when Baker is far enough behind, Hannah texts her between second and third periods. Sometimes that means an early-rising Baker can win their unspoken game.

Hannah thinks she might have set a new record when she gets a text from Baker on her way to school one morning, which is 3:30 a.m. California time.

“Good morning pretty,” Baker had sent, along with a kissy face emoji.

“Are you just going to bed???” Hannah replies.

“No!” Baker texts back almost instantly. “I couldn't sleep knowing I get to see you tonight.”

Hannah smiles to herself. She spent all last night cleaning the house so she doesn't know what she's going to do with her time this afternoon waiting for Baker’s flight to land. She’ll probably get to the airport embarrassingly early and circle the carpool lane dozens of times, knowing herself.

“I thought I could take you out to dinner. Got any plans?”

“I'm all yours,” Hannah replies. “If you're jet lagged it can wait for another day.”

“I'll be fine,” Baker assures her. “I'm going to get up now and go for a run before my body knows better. I'll be back on your time as long as I don't fall asleep on the plane.”

“Buy wifi on my card and text me the whole time,” Hannah writes back. “I need you sharp tonight.”

“Oh really? Tell me more about your plans for me…”

“Lol, bell is about to ring. See you later. Love you lots.”

Hannah smirks. The bell is still fifteen minutes from ringing, but she doesn't want to start anything she can't finish, and besides, she gets the real thing tonight. All she has to do is make it through the day.

~

After circling five times without a text from Baker or a landing notification from her airline, Hannah feels like she might burst out of her skin, so she parks in hourly parking and ventures inside to grab a coffee and wait patiently at the bottom of the escalator. The notifications she was waiting for come through while she's waiting in line, and she has to stop herself from practically skipping to the waiting area, where she paces till she sees Baker’s familiar purple Nikes at the top of the escalator.

Baker grins when she sees her and quickly stashes

her phone in her bag, running toward Hannah. Her hug practically knocks Hannah off her feet and takes her breath away. “Missed you,” Baker murmurs into her neck.

“I missed you too, crazy,” Hannah laughs. “What did I do to earn such an effusive greeting?”

“Effusive,” Baker says, trying out the word. “Five points.”

“Thanks,” Hannah laughs.

“Can't I just be happy to see my girlfriend?”

“Sure you can, but that response makes me think there's more.”

Baker bites her lip, trying to hide her smile. “I guess we’ll find out.”

They catch up on the ride home on everything from how Baker felt not starting either game (pissed, which sbowed both times, despite her scoring goals in both) to what Charlie ate that he shouldn't have.

Instead of going straight home, Baker insists on taking Hannah to dinner at Hunger Street Tacos and eating outside in the fresh Florida air.

They order some of their favorites to share, and Hannah is so happy to be back with Baker after a long two weeks that she doesn't even notice when Baker artfully turns the conversation.

“Oh!” she says, as if it just occurred to her. “I met up with Dani when I was in LA.”

Dani Jacobs, Baker’s agent, has been a thorn in Hannah's side since they met on Hannah’s first trip with Baker to LA. Something about her has always rubbed Hannah the wrong way, and it doesn't help that a lot of Baker’s fans “ship” them, ignoring Hannah’s very constant presence and the fact that Dani and Baker have a strictly professional relationship.

Baker is well aware of Hannah’s feelings toward Dani, but Hannah can't deny that she always has Baker’s best interests at heart, so she usually sets aside her feelings for Baker’s sake.

“Mm? How is she?” Hannah asks, barely feigning interest.

“She's good,” Baker says. “We talked about my sponsorships and some cool opportunities coming up. Oh, are you doing anything the second week of July?”

“Um, not that I know of, why?”

“That week is the ESPYs,” Baker says with a grin. “I have a game the weekend before and the weekend after, but I think it could be the perfect chance to take a little vacation.”

“Okay,” Hannah says. “Sure.”

“There are going to be a lot of parties that week,” Baker continues. “And then of course the red carpet.”

“Yes, I'll go shopping with you,” Hannah laughs, rolling her eyes.

Baker bites her bottom lip. “I'll have a plus one to all the parties,” she says. “Including the actual awards show. I was wondering if maybe you might…”

Hannah raises her eyebrows. “Oh.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to!” Baker exclaims. “Sorry, you can think about it, I don't mean to put you on the spot. It's just, if you wanted to come with me as my date, I'd be really happy to have you.”

“No, of course I want to go with you,” Hannah says. “If you're sure.”

Baker nods. “I'm really sure.”

They haven't discussed “coming out” publicly in well over a year, both figuring they appreciate privacy and those who pay more attention to Baker’s life than the average fan will know more than they want fans to know anyway.

“Okay,” Hannah says, trying and failing to contain her grin. “I'll mark it on my calendar.”

“Dani brought up something else, kinda related…”

“Okay…”

“One of the parties that week is the Body Issue launch party for the ESPN Magazine.”

Hannah shrugs. “Okay,” she says. “I'm not a prude, if that's what you're worried about. I'm not going to freak out seeing pictures of naked people.”

“What if I was one of the naked people?”

“What?” Hannah exclaims. The couple on a first date at the next table turn their heads to look at them. “Sorry,” she whispers as Baker hides her blushing face. “Sorry, I'm just—are you serious?”

“I mean I was going to do a gut check with you first, but I guess that's my answer,” Baker mumbles. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Hannah reaches across the table for Baker’s hand. “No, B, that's not—if you want to do it, I'm not going to—can I think about it? You took me by surprise.”

Baker straightens her shoulders and looks Hannah in the eye, not moving her hand away from Hannah’s grasp. “Of course,” she says, nodding quickly. “I know I'm loading a lot onto you at once. Take all the time you need.”

~

Hannah takes her time with Baker later that night when they finally go to bed after watching what feels like way too long of a documentary on the couch. Hannah’s hands had started wandering underneath the waistband of Baker’s sweatpants just ten minutes in, but Baker had responded by taking one of Hannah’s hands and kissing it softly, signaling that she was going to have to wait a little bit longer.

Baker is always worth the wait, though, which Hannah is reminded of as they lay in bed, her head on Baker’s bare chest, listening to her heart beat strong and steady.

Hannah’s fingers graze Baker’s abs, feeling the ripples of the taut muscles beneath her skin.

“Why do you want to do it?” Hannah whispers.

“Hm?”

“The Body Issue. You seemed disappointed by my reaction, but I want to hear you out.”

“I mean, I think I want to,” Baker says, running a hand through Hannah’s hair. “But I don't want you to be uncomfortable with it. I just—I've seen past issues and felt really empowered and inspired. I never thought I'd do it myself—I never imagined they'd ask me, for starters, but I just never could have pictured myself being confident enough to take all my clothes off in front of anyone, let alone a bunch of strangers.”

Hannah cringes, moving so her head is on her own pillow.

“That's how I felt too,” Baker giggles. “But the more I think about it the more I want to do it. I obviously wanted to ask you first, and then talk to my parents, but I feel like in the past couple years—since being with you, being on the National Team, being around all these amazing women, I've become so much more confident in myself and in my body. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't focus on the things I hate anymore. I focus on the parts of me that make me really good at my job and the parts you spend the most time kissing when we’re making love.”

Hannah turns pink as Baker’s voice gets lower. “Bake.”

“Let me be a little cheesy with you, it’s not like I'm going to say this in my interview!” Baker laughs. “I'm proud of my body, Han. And if I can show teenage girls that being strong is sexy and teach people about how I take care of my body to be strong and fast and to feel good, I feel like it'll be worth stepping out of my comfort zone.”

“You are sexy,” Hannah murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Baker softly. “You should do it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Hannah says. “I don't know how I feel about the rest of the world seeing you naked, but if you feel this strongly about it, I'm not going to stop you. I love your body, but it's yours, not mine.”

“Will you come to the photo shoot?” Baker asks quietly. “I can schedule it after you're done with school for the summer.”

“Would you feel more comfortable if I were there?”

“Nah,” Baker says. “I'd much prefer to be all alone while a bunch of strange men ogle my naked body.”

“Oh God,” Hannah groans. “I need some time to get used to this before you start making gross jokes.”

“It's either that or I could have Dani come with me.”

“Enough, Baker,” Hannah warns in a low growl.

“No more jokes,” Baker promises, leaning forward to kiss Hannah’s forehead. “Thank you for always supporting me, honey. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course, baby,” Hannah says, snuggling back into Baker’s chest. “Besides, I can’t blame you for having a perfect body. And you won’t hear me complaining about it either.”