take a deep breath, baby, let me in

Abby never got tired of LA sunsets.

They changed depending on the season. In the winter months, when the sun would set just as training started, the sky tended to glow bright orange with the sun hanging as the centerpiece. Now, in early September, the clouds were pastel pink on the backdrop of an almost regal purple sky.

Abby closed her eyes, feeling the breeze from the sea cool her burning cheeks and forehead.

Thunk.

Abby stumbled forward a little as the ball landed heavily between her shoulders, and a roar of laughter sounded out from behind her. Abby turned, a glare already imprinted on her features. Rosie, Ally and Sam were huddled over a pile of balls, clutching at each other as they laughed.

‘Coach has been calling you for like, five minutes.’ Ally grinned, as Sam wiped a tear away from her eye.

Coach Snow was stood on the touchline, and suddenly Abby saw that everyone was stood on cones, all ready for their next drill.

‘Sorry.’ She whispered to him as she jogged past towards the empty cone, and he shook his head in mild chagrin. Abby was grateful to see his nose twitch, briefly, a sure sign that he was at least slightly amused.

They were having a gentle, technical session after working through what had almost been a week of grueling fitness tests, during which Abby had come to greatly regret the lack of cardio she’d engaged in over the summer. Coach Snow was a great believer of ‘working hard in preseason to limit exhaustion during the regular season’.

‘I don’t know what he’s talking about,’ Abby remembered Sam saying to her out of the corner of mouth on the first day back, ‘I’m pretty much exhausted all the time.’

Abby had laughed at that, concealing her chuckle with a well-timed cough.

‘Hey, day-dreamer.’ Megan teased, jogging over to line up behind Abby on the cone, ‘Got your head out of the clouds?’

‘Don’t tell me you wouldn’t rather be on the beach right now.’

‘I would like that. I would like that a lot. But I like not pissing off Coach more.’

‘He wasn’t pissed off,’ Abby protested, controlling the ball with her instep as it came to her, ‘Didn’t you see him try not to smile?’

Abby sent the ball floating across the field to Courtney, who trapped the ball and knocked it past her mannequin to whip a ball into the box for Sam to flick goalward.

Coach Snow, pleased with their efforts, let them go into a five aside game ten minutes earlier than planned, handing out colored bibs. Abby was careful to stay focused, giving the sky one last longing glance before diverting her attention onto the field.

‘Foul!’ Caprice screamed, as Abby launched into a sliding challenge that wiped her legs from underneath her.

‘No, no!’ Zakiya insisted, coming onto the loose ball, ‘Great tackle, Abby.’

Abby leapt to her feet, dragging Caprice up with her by her armpits. Caprice graciously planted her heel onto Abby’s toes, before running off to help defend the counter attack. Abby rolled her eyes, wincing slightly at the pain in her left foot.

‘You okay?’ Belden asked. Abby nodded at her. Belden was a freshman from Santa Rosa that she’d taken an immediate liking to, and they’d struck up a solid partnership at the back. It felt weird for Abby to be the one giving instructions. Amelia and Summer had graduated the year before and they were left with a young defensive core, so Coach Snow had emailed her over summer, urging her to ‘lead from the back’ or whichever emphatic sport phrase he had used.

Abby found herself praying that her voice wouldn’t falter every time she hurled instructions across the line, found herself swallowing the bile that rose in her throat every time the others looked at her expectantly.

She’d never had enough courage to be a leader, but that wasn’t something Coach Snow needed to know.

‘That’s time.’ Coach Snow called, and play halted on the field. ‘Good job this week, girls, I know it was a rough start. Rest up tonight and we’ll start prepping for our preseason games tomorrow.’

Abby dropped onto the bench by the side of the field and leaned down to pull her shinpads out of her socks, wiping away the sweat that pooled on her forehead.

‘Hola, chica.’ Sam greeted, still breathing heavily as she took a seat next to her, ‘Boy, am I ready for a shower.’

Abby wrinkled her nose, ‘Yeah, you need to freshen up.’

Sam raised her eyebrows, ‘I’m gonna tell you right now that my sister wouldn’t appreciate it if you told her she didn’t smell good.’

Abby groaned, ‘How are we still talking about this?’

‘You know she’s never gonna let it go.’ Caprice called from a little way along the bench, ‘I wouldn’t, if I was her.’

‘Is it really that funny? Still?’

‘Uh, duh.’ Sam replied, shoving her cleats into her bag, ‘This is Kristie we’re talking about. The least attractive person ever.’

‘You don’t get a say in this,’ Caprice pointed out, ‘In fact, I’d be kinda worried if you did think she was attractive.’

Laughter rippled among the girls.

‘I don’t like girls,’ Megan chimed in, ‘But I get where Abby is coming from. Sam, your sister is sorta smoking.’

Abby wrinkled her nose, ‘Okay that is enough talk about this for today. Preferably ever.’

‘You know the deal,’ Megan said, ‘Until there’s someone else for us to talk about, you’re stuck with Kristie.’

---

Abby boosted herself up precariously onto the bathroom sink, careful not to let the back of her dress fall against the bathroom mirror, which was still covered in mist long after they had all finished in the shower.

‘Okay guys,’ Chelsea called, cupping one hand around her mouth to make sure she was heard, ‘Party starts in an hour!’

There were loud whoops that carried all the way out the bathroom and along the hall.

It was a pre-season tradition that Abby had quickly become comfortable with to attend the first college party of the year as a team. It had been carried out without fail since the inception of their program, or so she had been told.

‘Here we go, freshies.’ Jenna said, pushing her way through the bathroom door with a tray piled high with shot glasses and sticking her elbow into Rosie’s face in the process, ‘Drink up.’

The tray was handed solemnly around the room, each one of the freshmen nervously picking up a glass. Abby watched them, cheeks twitching with a smile.

‘Remember when we had to do this?’ Caprice asked, knocking her shoulder against Abby’s.

‘How could I forget?’ Abby laughed.

It had been painfully obvious that Caprice had never been closer than six feet to a shot glass in her life, but she’d continued with the deception of confidence nonetheless. Syd had watched from the door, an evil smirk on her face as Caprice’s face had contorted in displeasure, and she’d given her a painful slap on the back to ‘help relieve her coughing fit’.

‘Two weeks into my college career and I was already doing stuff I regretted.’ Caprice whispered for only Abby to hear.

‘And now look at you, you’re an alcoholic.’ Abby muttered back, and received a jab to the shoulder in retaliation.

Taylor, who was the last to take a shot, downed it immediately as soon as she took it. Jenna whistled in admiration.

‘It sure isn’t your first rodeo.’

Taylor giggled, ‘Sorry to Coach Snow, but this is the kind of preseason ritual I imagined when I committed.’

Rosie raised her solo cup into the air,

‘To the new season!’

‘The new season!’ everyone echoed, throwing back the dregs of their drinks. Abby crushed the cup down into a disc in her palms, aiming it at the bin by the door. Instead, it bounced off the wall and onto the floor, but Sam, who had just come in, picked it up and tossed it in for her.

‘Hey.’ Said Abby.

‘Hey.’ Said Sam, circling around a circle of their teammates in deep conversation, ‘Could you do my makeup?’

‘Sure.’ Abby said, gesturing for Sam to sit the vacant toilet seat.

‘Syd did it for me last year.’ Sam told her, tucking in her knees as to not trip anyone over, ‘She made me feel powerful.’

Caprice snickered, ‘You are powerful, Sam. You’re six foot.’

Abby rolled her eyes, unscrewing the lid to the eyeliner, ‘You know what she means, Caprice. Sammy, I can’t do make up like Syd does, but I’ll do my best.’

‘Don’t stress,’ Sam replied, staying perfectly still as Abby carefully traced the eyeliner along her eyelid, ‘I trust you.’

‘Abby!’ greeted Megan, popping a stick of mint gum in her mouth and perching on the edge of the bathtub, ‘Just the person I was looking for.’

‘What is it, Meg?’ Abby asked, not looking up.

‘Who’s your man tonight?’

That made Abby look up.

‘What?’

‘Sorry,’ Megan winced slightly, ‘Who’s your man or woman tonight?’

Abby blinked, very slowly.

‘Your drunken hook-up plan.’ Megan explained, impatiently, ‘You know? The one-night stand?’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why should I?’

‘Everyone has one.’

Abby shot her a sideways glance, ‘I know that’s not true.’

Megan sighed, leaning forward just enough that Abby got a whiff of her perfume.

‘Abby, you haven’t been on a date since, like, February.’

‘It was March, actually-’

‘You’re fighting a losing battle, Megan.’ Caprice interjected as she rummaged through her purse, ‘Abby’s still too hung up on Sam’s hot sister to meet anyone.’

Abby cast her eyes heavenward, ‘If Kristie is mentioned one more time tonight, I am going to stay here and watch NCIS.’

‘I don’t get it,’ said Megan, ‘I mean, sure, Kristie’s hot, but you’ve never even met her, Abby.’

They all looked expectantly at Abby for answer, but she turned her focus back to Sam.

‘Pucker up.’ She instructed, uncapping the lipstick.

‘She can’t be that different to Sam,’ Caprice mused, ‘You could just bang her instead, get it out of your system.’

There was a loud snort from the direction of the bathtub, and Abby dropped the lipstick cap onto Sam’s lap. Sam picked it up, holding it up by her fingertips for Abby to take. She shot Abby a dramatic wink as she plucked it from her grasp.

‘Just say the word, Abby. I know you want a piece of me.’

Abby placed the lipstick back into Sam’s outstretched palm.

‘I should’ve known you were obsessed with me when you got your name tattooed on my body.’

‘Touché,’ laughed Sam, ‘Touché.’

‘You guys are right, though.’ Abby admitted, as she helped Sam pack the makeup back into her bag, ‘Moving on is important.’

‘Saying that is one thing,’ Sam pointed out, ‘Doing it is something else.’

‘You know what we need in this situation?’ Megan said, and Abby could hear the smirk in her voice, ‘A bet.’

‘What?’ Sam and Abby asked simultaneously.

‘A bet,’ Megan repeated, pulling a piece of paper with a shopping list written on the back and pen from her purse, ‘Abby, you promise to do whatever you can to move on, but if you don’t, Sam gets something.’

Abby raised her eyebrows at Sam.

‘You’ve got to come to Boston for Thanksgiving again.’ Sam said, and Abby could see Caprice almost rubbing her hands together in glee.

‘No way.’ Abby said firmly, face turning white as a sheet, ‘I can’t go through that again.’

‘My family have met you already.’ Sam argued, ‘What’s the big deal?’  

‘So it’s settled,’ Megan said, furiously jotting down a note on the bit of paper and handing it to Abby, ‘Abby, you have to go on a date with three different people before the end of the semester, and if you don’t, you have to go to Boston with Sam and see Kristie again.’

‘Wait a second,’ Abby said, ‘Three people? Before the end of the semester? Are you out of your mind?’

‘What?’ Megan asked, ‘You’re hot, you play soccer and you major in sociology. What more could anyone want?’

‘Come on, Abby.’ Caprice practically begged.

‘I need more of an incentive.’ Abby pressed, ‘If I win the bet, Sam has to come to mine for Thanksgiving.’

‘Oooh.’ Megan said, wriggling her eyebrows, ‘A double edged sword, I like it. Sam?’

‘Deal.’ Said Sam, extending her hand for Abby to shake, ‘Good luck.’

Abby took her hand and gave it a firm shake, ‘Ditto.’

---

The season had officially started in mid-August, but as usual, it had taken several weeks for the student body to slowly filter back into the dorms, so Abby hadn’t been surprised when she’d run out to see the stands half empty on the first few occasions.

When Princeton came calling, though, it was mid-September, and over seven hundred people had packed themselves into the stands.

Abby knew they were expecting a rout. Princeton were unranked, and had only won two from five.

UCLA were ranked third. And hadn’t lost a game all season.

Abby knew these were the types of game nights her teammates relished. A warm evening, a cloudless sky, stands overflowing. There was an air of confidence in the locker room- there were easy smiles, relaxed faces, loud singing.

Those were the games Abby hated. Games against higher ranked opponents were a little different, with the grim knowledge that the game balanced on a knife edge. It was something about the way they were expected to win; a gentle, dismissible pressure for most, but the voice at the back of Abby’s head was always asking questions.

What if we lost?

It wasn’t impossible. They were winning but they hadn’t exactly been clinical. There had been a few wobbly occasions where players had slipped through the backline. They were always so dominant in attack that the defence were expected to be completely watertight, and it never failed to set Abby on edge.

‘You know,’ Sam said, leaning across the space that separated their chairs, ‘I’ve never seen you smile once before a game.’

Abby immediately smiled, but Sam just shook her head.

‘I’m getting in the zone.’ Abby said, double checking that her laces were tied properly.

‘You can’t smile whilst you do that?’ Sam asked.

‘Let’s get out there, girls!’ Coach Snow hollered from the doorway, and Abby graciously avoided answering the question.

They were out on the pitch before the Princeton players, so Lucretia tugged on Abby’s shirt as they jogged to their positions, pulling her into a defenders-only huddle at the top of the box.

‘We’ve had four shutouts already this season.’ Lucretia said, ‘We’ve got one of the best defensive records in the league, but we can’t be complacent with these guys. Let’s stick to our game plan, do our jobs, and get this clean sheet.’

‘Let’s go!’ agreed Chelsea, giving Abby’s arm a quick squeeze, and Abby wondered if Sam had mentioned anything to her.

Princeton jogged out of the tunnel, and there were a few light-hearted jeers from the crowd. Abby rotated her head around on her shoulders, feeling it click. Taylor stood on the centre spot, absent-mindedly chewing on her piece of gum, rolling the ball back and forth under her cleat. The referee checked with both keepers, and then blew her whistle.

By the end of the half, they’d scored six.

Taylor went first, finding herself in yards of space outside the box and driving the ball through the throng of defenders and into the top left.

Sam followed, getting enough of her toe onto Kris’ cross to catch the keeper off guard at the near post.

Taylor was sent through again by Zakiya minutes later, and she tucked the ball neatly under the keeper’s diving frame and into the goal.

Then Zakiya scored two in two minutes and-

Abby spent most of the half watching her teammates run rings around Princeton players. She hadn’t clocked how far her jaw had dropped until Chelsea had told her to close it with a wink.

‘No half-time talk from me,’ Coach Snow said with a grin, as the water bottles were handed around in the locker room, ‘Get hydrated, then go out and do that again.’

Sam passed Abby’s water bottle to her, ‘How about now?’ she said.

‘Now what?’

‘You gonna smile now?’

Abby smiled, and this time it was for real, ‘Good goal. It was brave to dive for it like that.’

‘Oh, you think so?’ Sam asked, flexing her biceps like a strongman.

‘Put those away,’ Abby chuckled, tugging her sleeves back down, ‘Stop embarrassing yourself.’

‘It makes you laugh,’ Sam replied, pushing Abby down into her seat and sitting down in her own, ‘So it’s worth it.’

They only scored one in the second half, but Abby hardly cared. The Princeton players stayed trapped firmly in their own half, unable to string even three or four passes together.

When the final whistle blew, there was a standing ovation from the crowd.

The Princeton game turned them into celebrities on campus for a day, though Abby wasn’t sure at first what had spawned the awed glances she got the next morning on her way to class. Sure, she reasoned, it had been a nice victory, but women’s soccer at UCLA was famed for its success. It wasn’t anything that lay way outside expectations for them.

That didn’t stop half the guys in her sociology class from hastily clearing away the spaces next to them when Abby walked in. She ignored the hopeful stares and walked straight to where she usually sat, between a girl called Maddie who played volleyball, and some other guy who she’d never talked to.

‘Hey,’ Came a whisper from her right as she leaned down to pull her laptop out of her bag. She looked up to see the guy next to her looking down at her.

‘Hey.’ She replied, glancing quickly at the professor. He was busy writing something out on the board. The guy awkwardly extended his hand,

‘I’m Josh.’

(‘A J name.’ Megan would later whisper in horror, as Abby told the story)

‘Hey Josh,’ Abby shook his hand, ‘I’m Abby.’

‘Abby.’ He echoed, like he was testing the way it sounded, ‘So, uh, do you like this class?’

Abby narrowed her eyes at him, ‘Yeah. Where are you going with this?’

Josh gulped, and she suddenly noticed his cowlick sticking up just behind his right ear.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, ‘This is not going the way I wanted it to.’

Abby sighed, ‘If this is about the game last night-’

‘Game? What game were you at?’

Abby paused, laptop screen half open.

‘This isn’t about soccer?’

‘You play soccer?’ Josh asked, sounding genuinely surprised, ‘Uh, wow. I mean, I should’ve guessed. Or well, maybe not, I shouldn’t assume-’

‘If you’re not talking to me about the soccer, what are you talking to me for?’

He looked crestfallen and Abby realized how she’d sounded,

‘I don’t mean that you can’t talk to me. Sorry, it’s just been a weird morning.’

‘Maybe you can explain over a cup of coffee?’

There was a silence. Abby was taken aback.

‘Smooth,’ she said, breaking out into a broad smile, ‘But I like it.’

Josh puffed out his cheeks, relief draining onto his face.

‘Nice. You free after class?’

He took her to the nearest coffee shop, which happened to be the one where Abby had spent almost all of her last semester cramming for finals with Sam. Abby was fairly sure Sam was in her dorm on a Monday morning, but she still found herself nervously tapping her nails against the table, eyes flicking upwards to the door behind Josh’s head.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, taking his first sip of coffee.

‘Yeah,’ said Abby, ‘Just zoning out.’

‘You said you play soccer, right?’ he ventured, ‘What’s that like?’

‘Great,’ Abby leaned forward in her seat, ‘It’s kind of my whole life. I know a few other people outside the team from class, and my roommate doesn’t play, but most of the time I’m with my teammates.’

‘Do you ever get tired of them?’

‘No.’ Abby answered, after half a second’s thought, ‘They can annoy me, but I never get tired, no.’

‘That’s good,’ he said, and Abby thought he sounded bitter, ‘Spending time with teammates when you don’t want to see them can be exhausting.’

Abby thought about pushing him. She was confident that she could get him to talk, and the tone of his voice had sparked her interest, but she decided to leave it. It was a second date kind of question. If there was going to be a second date.

‘I bet you take all the girls you ask out for coffee here.’ She said instead, and the troubled look on his face was replaced with a half-smile.

‘Nah, I’ve just seen you come in here a few times and figured it would be the safest option.’

‘So you’ve noticed me before?’

‘Of course. I sit next to you.’

Abby felt a stab of guilt. She felt like she’d never even laid eyes on him until an hour before.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

He laughed, ‘You’re always in your own little bubble. Even when you’re listening in class, it’s like you’re not even listening, you’re just- there.’

‘I like daydreaming.’ Abby admitted, taking a bite off the corner of her danish, ‘I’ll pay more attention next time.’

‘You should. I’m a diamond in the rough.’

The danish crumbled a little between Abby’s fingers, flakes of pastry falling onto her lap, and she cursed, swiping at her shorts. She felt the ghost of Kristie’s fingers brush over her thigh, from when they’d been sat next to each other during the Mewis’ annual games night last Thanksgiving, when Abby had visited and vomited all over Melissa Mewis’ rose bushes. She froze, memory holding her firmly in place.

Josh noticed.

‘There’s someone else.’ He said, without so much as a hint of doubt.

‘No.’ Abby squeaked, and even the almost-lie made her queasy, ‘Well, yes but- there’s not not someone.’

He nodded once, but stayed silent. Abby took a deep breath in through her nose.

‘I made a bet,’ she said, ‘With my friend. If I don’t get three dates before the end of the semester, I’ll have to go to her place for Thanksgiving.’

‘Which is a problem because?’

‘Because if I go to her house I’ll have to see her sister. Who is the ‘someone’ we just talked about.’

‘Then why’d you make the bet?’

He didn’t sound angry or upset- just confused, and Abby relaxed back into her seat.

‘I owe it to her to get over it.’

‘Oh?’ Josh looked gleeful, in spite of himself and situation they were in, ‘Does it make it awkward?’

‘You know, I really thought it would. Sam’s chill, though. She teases me about it, but I know she doesn’t really mind. She would tell me if it did.’

‘And you’re sure you have no chance with her sister?’

Abby, much to her own embarrassment, let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a longing sigh.

‘She goes to college in Boston and she has a girlfriend. I have more chance of being struck by lightning.’

Josh rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, processing the information.

‘Soccer girls have crazy lives.’

Abby smirked, before a wave of shyness washed over her, ‘I’m sorry for leading you on.’

‘When did you do that?’ he said, perplexed, ‘You wanted to go on a date, right?’

‘Yeah,’ she groaned, ‘It was just a very shitty one.’

‘Those still count.’ He grinned, ‘I know you’re all hung up, or whatever, but if you ever just wanna hang out, let me give you my number.’

Maybe this dare isn’t that bad, Abby thought, as she handed Josh her phone across the table.

‘Hold up, so you went on this totally spontaneous date with this guy from your sociology class, and it didn’t end up being weird?’

Sam’s eyes were bugging out. Abby had sent her a message as soon as she’d left the coffee shop, and by the time she’d got back to her dorm, Sam was waiting on the doorstep.

‘I know, right?’ Abby laughed, sliding her key into the lock, ‘I could’ve been kidnapped.’

‘Not just that,’ Sam said, ‘You didn’t even plan it. You, who has to look up the session plan every day so you don’t get any surprises when we turn up for training.’

‘What’s going on?’ Jamie called from the bathroom.

‘Abby went on a date!’ Sam shouted, and Jamie was out the door before Abby even had a chance to open her mouth.

‘You never told me you were going on a date.’ She complained, wrapping her wet hair in a towel.

‘I didn’t know I was going on one till just before.’

‘That’s not the Abby I know.’

‘This is what I’ve been saying,’ Sam butted in impatiently, ‘Where is the real Abby Dahlkemper and what have you done with her?’

‘She’s tired of being single.’ Abby sighed, flopping down on her bedsheets, ‘And tired of being the butt of all the jokes.’

‘How did it go?’ Sam asked. She was leaning against the wall, baby hairs plastered haphazardly across her forehead. Abby caught a faint whiff of her deodorant.

‘Not bad. I got his number and he told me to call him. He could tell I wasn’t that into it, though.’

Jamie sighed dramatically, ‘Poor guy. Destined to fall for a girl who’s spent her whole life thinking about a chick she’s only ever met once.’

Abby pulled the pillow out from behind her head and threw it at her, ‘You suck.’

‘She has a point,’ Sam said, as Jamie neatly dodged the projectile, ‘One date isn’t going to fix anything.’

‘I know,’ Abby said, ‘That’s why I have to go on two more.’

Sam smirked, ‘It’s going to take way more than two to help you get past Kristie.’

---

‘I can’t believe you’re just letting us go out there and play without you.’ Abby grumbled, unlocking the door on the passenger side so Sam could climb in.

‘Believe me,’ said Sam, carefully lowering herself into the seat next to Abby, ‘If there was any way I could play today I would be out there with you, but Snow says no.’

Abby huffed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, ‘It can’t be that bad. You’re walking on it.’

Sam put a sympathetic hand on Abby’s thigh,

‘I know, baby,’ she cooed, and Abby scrunched up her nose in disgust, ‘I know you’re upset. I’ll be watching from the stands.’

‘First of all, stop touching me,’ Abby said, swatting Sam’s hand away, ‘And second of all, you better be cheering extra loud.’

‘Don’t worry. My ankle may be a little sore but my voice is fully rested.’

Abby put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking spot. Sam had injured herself early in a training session in the week, going over her ankle as she lunged for a ball that was headed out of bounds. It hadn’t been serious- the trainer had given Sam a week off at most- but Coach Snow had been unwilling to risk a recurrence, and Sam had been confined to the bench.

The thought of playing without Sam freaked Abby out more than she cared to admit. A big part of her gameday routine involved Sam; it was her who handed her her bottle before the game, it was her who borrowed her tape in the locker room, it was her who stole Abby’s coconut body wash in the showers. After a while Sam had become so regular, so constant, that Abby hardly noticed her most gamedays.

Washington were a tough opponent, and the knowledge of that only made Abby feel worse. They’d played out a drab tie the year before, even with Sam playing the full ninety. Abby bit her lip as she made a right turn into the Drake Stadium parking lot, chewing on the inside of her cheek until she could taste blood.

‘Hey,’ said Sam, and Abby realized the doors to the car were still locked. Sam’s index finger pressed down on the small of her back as she leaned forward to turn the ignition.

‘You’re gonna do great.’ Sam said softly, ‘Believe in it.’

Abby exhaled, ‘Right. Okay.’

She climbed out the car, away from its stuffy interior and Sam’s silent sympathy.

The seat next to her in the locker room was painfully empty as Abby pulled her jersey down past her ears. Jenna, who was sat on Abby’s other side, seemed to be making more noise than usual, possibly to compensate for Sam’s absence eating at the team’s confidence.

Coach Snow arrived in the locker room ten minutes early to go over tactical changes, and Abby realized the team hadn’t played a game without Sam in over a year. She was almost certain that Sam had started every game they’d played, and the same realization seemed to dawn on the rest of the locker room at the same time. Abby stared at the tactics board. They’d trained with the new formation the day before, but the positions and instructions swam before her eyes.

The stands were brimming for their PAC-12 opener and Sam was seated right in the front row, as promised. She whooped loudly as the team jogged out (Abby could hear her voice through all the other cheers) and waved. Abby caught her eye from across the field, and Sam framed her hands either side of her face, like horse blinders.

Focus.

Abby nodded, walking quickly to take her spot at the top of the box. She’d settled in well with the other members of the defense, standing in a line with them with Katelyn’s encouraging calls echoing in her ears put her ease. She felt loose and free.

Washington were good. Not Stanford level, by any means, and Abby knew they were still the stronger team, but their defense was solid. By the tenth minute Zakiya had already fired her third shot over the bar from outside the box, and Abby watched it soar into the night, accompanied by Zakiya’s howl of frustration. Untroubled, the Washington defense jogged back into position, ready to defend again almost immediately.

Abby’s job was hardly straightforward either. Washington’s striker was a small but tricky blonde with a high ponytail, who she highly suspected was a converted midfielder. She held up the ball exceedingly well for someone who couldn’t have been taller than five foot five, and Abby grit her teeth in frustration as she lunged for and missed the ball at the striker’s feet.

Despite the lack of any real action, she felt energized. There was a little thrill she got, knowing that Sam’s eyes were locked onto her, tracking her every mood. She felt a desperate need to impress, to make up ground against some unknown adversary. She was well aware of her own odd shift in mood; she saw Caprice glance at her halfway through the first half with some kind of confused awe.

‘Here.’ Megan said, passing her her water bottle from the bench after the whistle blew for the end of the half, ‘You’re all over the place out there. In a good way.’

Abby paused from her drink for a breath, ‘Feeling good,’ she mumbled against the skin of her bottle, ‘Something’s clicking.’

Megan clapped her on the back as they walked back down the tunnel, ‘I hope it stays clicked.’

Coach Snow praised their discipline in possession, but Abby could practically see his frustration rolling off him in waves. Without Sam, it felt like they were missing their key weapon. Abby could tell Snow was thinking the same thing, and she watched him sigh as he moved the counters around on the tactics board.

They went out for the second half unchanged, and Abby picked up right where she left off. Their left winger, the number two, had grown into the game and was giving Caprice some trouble. Unconsciously, Abby drifted closer to her right, ready to step in the second that the winger made it past Caprice. After that, the attacks from that side dried up.

They were close to scoring- feverishly close- and Abby could feel the energy of the crowd willing them on, cheering for every corner won, every shot taken. When Abby watched another weak shot fall neatly into the keeper’s hands, she was convinced they were cursed. The very last chance came in the final minute- the only error of judgement that the opposing keeper ever made. She rushed out to collect a deep ball that Jenna had sent into their half, attempting to put Zakiya in over the top, but her clearance only fell as far as Sarah.

With her heart in her mouth, Abby watched Sarah lob the ball over the keeper’s head as she scrambled back frantically towards her own goal to no avail.

The shot skewed wide, swerving around the right post.

Abby crouched low to the ground, burying her scream in her jersey. The crowd were equally disappointed, and Abby saw Sarah’s face drop into her palms as the final whistle blew.

Overtime.

Coach Snow’s hand fell onto Abby’s shoulder as they huddled on the sidelines rehydrating, and Abby knew she was being subbed out. Cursing under her breath, she sat down on the bench with a hard thud, shoving her socks down to her ankles and tossing her shinpads to one side. She tipped her head backwards, unable to watch as her teammates peppered the Washington goal with shots without success.

The LA sky is so pretty at night, Abby thought, as the final whistle blew and Coach Snow threw his clipboard at the ground.

Sam stayed behind as the stand emptied, leaning over the railing as Abby made a beeline towards her after the warm-down.

‘Great game.’ She said, as Abby boosted herself up onto the stand.

‘It didn’t count for anything.’ Abby said, sniffing a little.

Sam’s blink was slow.

‘Abby?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Take the compliment.’

‘Okay.’

There was silence, and Abby wondered if she’d upset Sam until she felt a bit of paper being pressed into her palm.

‘What’s this?’ Abby asked, unfolding the slip of paper to see a series of digits hastily printed out.

Sam grinned, ‘The guy I was sitting next to in the stands noticed you. I offered to pass on his number. He’s called Ben.’

‘You’re joking.’ Abby said, staring at the paper in disbelief.

‘Nope. Never say I don’t do anything for you again.’

‘I would never say that anyway.’ Abby said softly, a smile slowly spreading across her face, ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime.’ Sam said, punching her on the shoulder, ‘Now you have yourself a contender for date number two.’

‘It’s almost like you want me to win this bet.’

‘I know right,’ Sam said, sounding wistful, ‘I’m going to miss making fun of you when you end up marrying someone someday.’

‘That’s a long way off.’ Abby said, climbing down from the railing, ‘Are we still going to get tacos?’

‘We don’t break tradition just because I’m injured.’ Sam said, affronted. ‘You better get changed fast.’

Abby blew her a kiss as she headed down the tunnel, ‘I’ll make sure to spend extra time washing my hair, just for you.’

When Abby slid between her sheets that night, the bit of paper Sam had given her was still clasped between her fingers. She held it up in the dark, flicking at the edge of the paper as she weighed up her options. In the bed across from her, Jamie rolled over in her sleep and let out a contented half snore.

Abby wondered if she was cut out for the whole dating thing. Josh had been nice enough- more than nice- but she hadn’t thought about calling him even once. She always had a long list of things to do, and going out with guys was always rock bottom of it. She wasn’t sure she had the time or the energy for it.

What could be so bad about Thanksgiving with Sam’s family? Abby asked herself, placing the paper on the edge of her bedside table and rolling onto her side.

She remembered Kristie’s sympathetic smile as she walked back into the living room just after her infamous incident with the Mewis’ rose bushes. She remembered Sam’s aunt cracking the joke about Kristie making a move on her.

She rolled right back over and reached for her phone.

She hesitated after she typed Ben’s number in, thumbs resting on the keyboard. She didn’t know what to write.

Hey :), she started, before wincing and deleting the message. The ‘hey’ by itself sounded too formal, so she settled on ‘hi’ instead.

It took several drafts and edits before she was happy with the finished product. Rereading her message, she chewed her bottom lip.

Hi, it’s Abby. My friend Sam gave me your number at the game tonight.

She toyed with the idea of writing more, but her thumb brushed over the send button before she could really decide, and she immediately switched of her phone, dropping it at the farthest corner of her bedside table, and screwed her eyes shut.

By the next morning he had written back.

Hey :) (Abby cursed her instincts) It’s Ben. You were great last night.

He asked her to meet him, just a few days later, at Will Rogers Beach. Abby had no idea what he looked like, or even any clue what they were going to do, but she sucked in her breath, let Jamie fuss over makeup, and got in her car.

The evening breeze along Sunset Boulevard whipped her carefully-set hair into a frenzy as she rolled down the window. The first echoes of autumn had carried along the street, blowing a few leaves with it, but the students sauntering along the sidewalk still had their flipflops on. The traffic was heavy, so Abby had left early, more from force of habit of not wanting to get to training late than anything else. After maneuvering her way through the car horns and red lights, the beach stretched in front of her; on the cusp of sunset.

They were north of Santa Monica, so the crowds were thinner and the parking was easier. Abby said a silent prayer of thanks as she slid into the first parking space she saw that ran alongside the beach.

She glanced down at her phone as she pulled the keys from the ignition- he’d said he’d meet her on the beach, but he’d not said exactly where. There was a sharp rap on her window,

‘Hi.’ Ben said, holding up two ice creams, ‘Let’s go for a walk?’

He was tall and thin, dressed in boardshorts and a colorful button-up that Abby thought would’ve looked corny on anyone else. He had a mop of hair that curled along his neck, and the frame of his glasses glinted in the evening sun. He handed her a cone heaped with pistachio ice cream- her favorite.

‘Your friend Sam gave me a few hints,’ he explained, as she stared at him, mouth wide open, ‘She was really helpful.’

Abby took a cautious lick of her ice cream. Sam helping the guy out was weird. She had nothing to gain from it- in fact it was helping her lose the bet. Doubt bit at her from the back of her mind, but Ben’s dazzling smile did wonders for keeping it there.

He was from Ohio, and he was majoring in computer studies. There was something geekish in the way he spoke, a childish excitement that Abby somehow found endearing. He loved sport, but he’d never played it in high school and regretted it. His elder brother had played lacrosse at Villanova, but had never had any interest in going pro.

They’d almost reached Santa Monica by the time he finished talking, but she hardly minded. As they made a U-turn just in front of the pier, he turned to her expectedly, waiting for her to speak.

She told him about how she’d only ever played soccer; in her back yard with her brothers from six, and then for a club, and then with her high school. She’d made varsity as a freshman, and from then onwards she’d been told she’d walk into any division one college in the country, on a full scholarship, no less. She told him about Caprice, and Jamie, and Sam, and she told him about their training, their games, their lifestyle.

She didn’t tell him about Kristie, or the fact that she was Sam’s sister.

‘Thank you,’ said Ben, as they reached her car, ‘It was amazing to get to know you.’

Abby melted a little bit.

‘No, thank you. I had a lot of fun.’

‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to see you again.’ He said, toeing the sand.

‘Of course,’ Abby said, sliding into the driver’s seat and rolling down the window, ‘You know where to find me.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Sam, holding up her hands as Abby walked onto the field next morning for training, ‘You can say it. I’m the best matchmaker ever.’

‘She hasn’t even said anything yet.’ Megan protested, but Caprice shook her head.

‘I’m with Sam on this one- look at her, she’s glowing.’

‘It could just be the tan.’ Megan said, but her argument died on her lips as Abby beamed.

‘It was awesome,’ Abby said, trying and failing miserably to stop herself from gushing, ‘He was so cool, you know? He had these really funny stories, and oh my god, he was such a good listener-’

‘Bar is on the floor, Abby.’ Caprice said, tapping her on the shoulder, ‘I would be worried if a guy didn’t do any of those things on a date.’

Abby stuck her tongue out, ‘You’re just jealous.’

‘Yes, she is.’ Sam said. She put an arm around Abby’s shoulders and dragging her away from the group. ‘So,’ she said, when they were a good distance away, ‘Was it really that good?’

Abby realized Sam looked almost nervous.

‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘It was. Thank you.’

Sam breathed out quickly, ‘Thank god. I thought maybe I’d put you onto a total weirdo when you didn’t text me last night.’

‘Honestly,’ Abby said sheepishly, ‘I just forgot.’

‘Second date then?’

‘Second date.’ Abby confirmed, giving her a tight hug, ‘I owe you so big.’

Ben had suggested the weekend, but Abby had had to turn him down with a twinge of disappointment after telling him they were flying out to Arizona for a few days to play a couple of away games. To her relief, he hadn’t seemed particularly put off, wishing her luck and making her promise to text him.

Abby had forgotten how insufferable teammates could be when there was a guy involved. Every time she glanced down at her phone after training there were huge grins and raised eyebrows, and Rosie actually whistled loudly when Abby made her excuses to miss the week’s Girls Night.

‘I have a test.’ Abby groaned, burying her head in her hands, ‘I have to revise.’

‘Abby,’ Rosie said seriously, hand on her shoulder, ‘There’s no need to be embarrassed.’

They all made a much bigger deal out of it than Abby felt like it really was. Sure, she liked him, he was nice. She would have been lying if she had said the thought of a second date didn’t make her stomach churn with both nerves and excitement, but she hadn’t given anything further than that much thought. She was just allowing herself to enjoy it, not worrying about consequences.

The same could not be said for Megan, who had sat Abby down and gave her a serious girl talk about rushing headlong into relationships. It had taken half an hour for Abby to persuade her that she wasn’t going to make any big decisions anytime soon, and another fifteen minutes after that to usher her out the door.

By the time Abby collapsed into her seat on the plane on Thursday morning, she was thoroughly exhausted. Between training and Ben and managing the entire team’s expectations, she’d hardly had a moment’s peace. She felt Sam’s eyes sweep over her as she took the usual space next to her, and heard her sink back into her chair without a word. Abby smiled at her own reflection in the window- Sam could always tell when she wanted talk or left alone like it was her sixth sense.

Landing in Arizona felt distinctly like stepping out onto Tatooine- the hum of the engine blades stirring up a huge cloud of dust that made Abby cough just seconds after she was out the aircraft door. She couldn’t wait to get back to LA.

They played Arizona first, and even in the evening the heat was so unrelenting that Abby found herself gratefully reaching for the soaked towels that her teammates offered her whenever there was a lengthy break in play. They’d been given very little trouble defensively- a few clearances falling to her feet occasionally- but other than that she’d done an awful lot of standing and watching. She wiped away the beads of sweat dripping from her headband and turned to see Sam wringing out her headband, the liquid making a small pool in the grass. She wrinkled her nose,

‘Don’t tell me that’s all your sweat’

‘Well then I don’t know what to tell you.’ Sam huffed, pushing the headband up and over her forehead once more.

They were two goals up at the halfway mark, but the conditions wore them down more than Abby liked to admit. The Arizona winger, fresh off the bench, baby hairs still lying flat against her forehead, blew by Lucretia and stormed down the touchline. For all of Abby’s efforts, her aching thighs and screaming lungs couldn’t quite get her back in time to get a toe to the cross that swerved into the oncoming path of their striker, and in one smooth, quick motion, the ball was in the back of the net. Muttering curses under her breath, Abby rose to her feet and swore to herself it wouldn’t happen again.

Twenty minutes later, the whistle blew, and Abby didn’t allow herself more than a few seconds to celebrate their victory before she marched towards the showers, desperate to get the dried mud off her kneecaps.

They spent their rest day stretched out by the hotel pool, too tired to do anything but sunbathe. Caprice had found a lilo from somewhere and spent half an hour trying to launch herself onto it without it tipping over. Abby watched with vague amusement as it capsized once more and Caprice was sent back into the water with a frustrated screech.

Her phone buzzed next to her, and she shot it a half glance, looking away when she saw who it was from. Chelsea looked at her curiously.

‘Not gonna answer that?’

Abby shifted slightly in her lounger, stretching her toes out,

‘I’m trying not to text him too much.’

‘What?’ Chelsea laughed, shaking her head like she hadn’t heard her right.

‘We’re here to play our games and win. I don’t want to get distracted.’

‘Is he that distracting?’

Abby pursed her lips and didn’t reply.

She’d told Ben just before she left that she wouldn’t be able to reply to him often, but he’d taken it in his stride, sending her a message that said ‘no worries :)’ that left Abby feeling simultaneously grateful and disappointed that he hadn’t pushed her to text him more. He’d kept up with the game the previous night- the voice message in their text chain of him cheering wildly had made her smile. She listened to it back more than she’d liked to admit.

She shared a room with Sam- because she always shared a room with Sam. The others liked to change it around occasionally, but Abby was grumpy enough about travel as it was, and she valued the easy consistency of Sam’s existence. They had a fixed, unspoken schedule; back in the room by nine, teeth brushing at nine-thirty, showers until ten and then reading until ten-thirty, after which Sam would set her alarm for six thirty, position her pillows at a very particular angle, and they’d both fall asleep.

It made weekends on the road feel like weekends at campus sometimes.

They played Arizona State on the Monday, and Abby found herself dreaming about the flight home before they’d even arrived at the stadium. Their gold away jerseys almost matched the color of the yellowing turf, grass coming loose in clumps as the ground cracked under the sun. Abby stretched her right leg out as much as possible, shifting forward into a lunge, and watched their opponents warm up on the opposite side of the pitch. She wondered what it was like to play in a desert week in, week out.

The first ten minutes of the game were frantic, both teams scrabbling desperately for a goal. Arizona State got off a few shots from the edge of the area as a warning for Katelyn, but some fancy footwork from Zakiya on the touchline won them a corner.

Abby jogged nonchalantly into the box, counting in her head how many defenders were stationed on the goal line. Their keeper held her hands in the air, jostling against Megan nervously. Abby darted towards the back post, with the defender marking her trailing obediently behind. At the last second, she cut inside, eyes looking up to judge the flight of the cross.

She barely had time to react before the ball crashed into her forehead, and she only just managed to flick her chin towards the goal and pray that she’d been able to keep the header down. The force sent her falling, back thumping hard against the ground, head swimming, until the players around her erupted into cheers.

Sam was first to her, smile bigger than Abby had ever seen it, hauling her up off the dirt and into her arms, and Abby found that she didn’t mind the feeling of her face being pressed into a sweaty jersey when it was Sam’s sweaty jersey.

They won by four goals to one and Abby found herself easily trotting up the steps of the plane just three hours later.

---

The nervous smile on Ben’s face when he opened his door made Abby’s heart beat double time. He was going for the casual look with the loose-fitting shirt and chinos, but Abby got a strong whiff of aftershave and spotted a nick on his cheek from where he’d recently shaved that told her he’d spent some time thinking about it.

‘Abby,’ he said, ‘Come in.’

She stepped inside quickly, eyes drawn to the table that had been set in the center of the room and lit up with tasteful ambient lighting. His flat was silent.

‘Don’t you have roommates?’ Abby asked, as she slid off her shoes and stacked them on the rack. He half gulped,

‘I kicked them out for the night.’

Abby tried not to think about the implications.

‘I hope they weren’t too annoyed about it.’

‘They spend their weekends passed out at parties a few blocks away, so I don’t think they mind too much.’

‘You’re not one for parties?’ Abby probed, and he shook his head,

‘Sometimes. I just get a little weirded out by them occasionally.’

Abby knew exactly what he meant.

Ben led her towards the table, pulling out a chair for her, offering her a drink- doubtlessly checking all the chivalry boxes in his head. Abby unfolded her napkin and draped it over her lap as he disappeared into the kitchen, taking a moment to compose herself.

He’d invited her over the day after she’d got back to LA, dropping the question as they stood in the queue for Chipotle, and she’d had to physically restrain herself from answering ‘yes’ too quickly. He’d beamed and dropped a quick kiss on a cheek that had kept her blushing even after they’d collected their orders.

‘Red or white?’ Ben called from the kitchen, and Abby realized with toe-curling embarrassment that she’d never tried either before.

‘You choose.’ She replied, resisting the urge to pick at her fingernails. Ben popped his head around the kitchen door,

‘You’re the guest.’

Abby knew he’d never back down, so she weighed up her options quickly,

‘White.’

‘White it is.’

He emerged with a tall bottle in one hand, huge saucepan in the other, and placed them in the middle of the table, careful not to knock any of the candles over.

‘I hope you like pasta.’ He said, wiping his palms on his jeans and refusing to meet her eye.

‘I love pasta.’ Abby said truthfully, ‘What recipe?’

‘Aglio e olio. To be honest with you, I just looked up ‘easiest pasta recipes’ and this was the first option that came up, so I went with it.’

Abby laughed, a warm feeling rising up her torso and settling along her collar. There was something endearing about him- like he’d planned the evening to be exactly the right kind of spontaneous.

‘How was your weekend?’ she asked, as he spooned pasta onto her plate.

‘Pretty good. Saw the basketball game. Did some work. Walked a dog.’

‘That makes you sound like a fifty-year old man.’

‘Hey!’ he protested, but he was grinning, and so was Abby.

‘Just saying, grandpa. Make sure you remember to take your medicine.’

‘The doctors told me it was incurable.’ He said, a faux serious expression on his face, ‘Apparently I’ll have an addiction to a boring existence for the rest of my life.’

Conversation came easily, and Abby could feel the wine loosening her up. By the time she’d taken her last bite, her head was swimming and her heart was pumping, and as he led her to the couch she thought oh god, this is it.

‘I missed you,’ he murmured into her ear before she sunk back into the cushions, ‘When you were in Arizona.’

Abby swallowed, ‘Me too. I kept thinking about you.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘You know,’ he said, shifting ever closer, ‘You’re not at all what I expected.’

Abby giggled, allowing her hand to fall lazily onto his thigh, ‘What were you expecting?’

‘You know,’ he said, tracing the inside of her wrist, ‘The soccer girls these days are all those ripped jeans, short hair, lesbian types.’

Even through the haze of alcohol, the warmth of the room and the press of his fingers, Abby felt wide awake.

‘What?’

‘You’re unique.’ He said, and Abby felt the pleasant heat in her cheeks curdle into something darker.

‘I’m bisexual.’ She whispered. He looked down at her, blinking slowly. ‘I’m bisexual,’ she repeated, ‘I like women too.’

She moved out of his arms towards the edge of the couch, and he made no move to stop her.

‘C’mon, Abby, I’m not talking about you.’

He seemed confused, knocked off balance. Abby got to her feet abruptly,

‘You can’t say that stuff,’ she said, quietly, ‘You just can’t.’

‘Abby-’

‘I should go.’

‘Wait!’ he cried, launching forward to grab her wrist, and she flinched, ‘I’ll text you.’

‘Maybe it’s better that you don’t.’ Abby said, slowly backing towards the hallway.

He didn’t go after her, but Abby pulled on her shoes as fast as she could, scrambling hurriedly with the lock like her life depended it.

The night air was far from cool, but she felt the heat disperse a little from her cheeks.

‘He said what?’ Megan hissed, arms folded.

Despite the fairly major challenges Abby had faced of having no car and being more than a little bit drunk, she’d managed to call Jamie, giving her a location for her to pick her up. By the time Jamie pulled up to the curb after fighting her way through late night traffic, Abby’s feet had begun to hurt from standing in the same spot for so long.

She’d texted Sam first, but she hardly even knew how to begin to explain the situation, so she just asked her to meet her at her dorm as soon as she could. She’d told Sam at training about her plans for the night, so she was certain that sending her a vague text before midnight would raise the alarm.

Less than thirty minutes later, Megan, Sam, Jamie and Caprice had gathered, conference-style, in her dorm room, circling her bed as if ready to dive on and pull her into a hug at any moment. She’d told them everything, sparing no detail as she watched their listening faces carefully.

Abby pinched the skin between her eyes,

‘He said I surprised him because I wasn’t like those other ‘ripped jeans, short haired, lesbian types’.’

‘We should report him.’ Jamie said, entirely earnest, ‘It’s literally harmful stereotyping.’

‘What are the board gonna do?’ Caprice argued, ‘They’ll just issue a warning like they always do. We should talk to him ourselves.’

‘Okay, stop.’ Abby said, feeling like the situation was growing out of hand, ‘We aren’t going to do anything.’

‘Are you sure?’ Megan asked, ‘We can’t let this stuff slide.’

‘We don’t have any evidence,’ Abby pointed out, leaning back against her pillows, ‘And even if we did, what he said is probably too ambiguous to charge him with anything.’

The others were silent. Abby sighed,

‘It’s late. You guys should get back.’

‘Okay,’ Caprice agreed, ‘But we should have a team meeting tomorrow.’

Abby smiled weakly, ‘Thanks guys. The fact you’re here means so much to me.’

Megan squeezed her arm lightly, ‘Anytime. Goodnight.’

Her and Caprice moved towards the door, but Sam, who had hardly said a word since she’d arrived, stayed put. Abby frowned a little.

‘Can we talk?’ Sam asked, fingers twisting together. Abby nodded.

‘I’m guessing you want me to clear out.’ Jamie said.

‘If it’s not too much trouble?’ Sam probed, but Jamie waved her away, sliding her flip flops on.

Sam got up on Abby’s bed as the door shut with a thud, but Abby didn’t look over, closing her eyes instead. Neither of them said anything for a minute. Abby listened to Sam’s breathing- deep and a little uneven.

‘Abby,’ she said, and her voice sounded wobbly, ‘I am so sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘It is. I should’ve known he was sketchy before I gave you his number.’

‘Sam-’ Abby cut in, exasperated. She reached out blindly for Sam’s hand, slotting her fingers between hers and squeezing hard. She could feel Sam waiting patiently for her to continue,

‘I know everyone thinks I was wildly in love with him, or whatever, but I wasn’t. And I know that doesn’t make this any better but this thing is on him. There was no way you could’ve known from meeting him during a game that he’d believe stuff like this.’

Sam huffed a little, but Abby felt her relax, ‘What a shit show.’

‘I know,’ Abby laughed, ‘But hey, let’s look on the bright side. Two dates down, just one more to go.’

‘And it’s only October,’ Sam groaned, ‘It’s unfair.’

‘You just wanted to see me squirm around Kristie.’

Sam clutched at her heart like some great tragedy had occurred,

‘A missed opportunity. Still, I’ll get you two in a room together again sometime.’

‘You wish.’

‘Hey, you can’t escape with meeting your best friend’s sister just once in your life. You two are destined to see each other again.’

‘Someone has an inflated sense of self-importance.’ Abby said, but she was laughing too.

‘I better go,’ Sam said, inching off the bed, and Abby felt the hole of space that she’d left behind, ‘I don’t want to keep Jamie outside for too long. See you at training tomorrow?’

Abby saluted, ‘Aye, aye.’

Sam stopped once more by the door, ‘Are you sure-’

‘Yes!’ Abby groaned, ‘Now go.’

Sam blew her a teasing kiss, and then she was gone.

---

Abby picked at the peeling wallpaper above her bed and scowled. If an away weekend at Arizona had been the first straw, and a disastrous date the second straw, then another fixture block in Oregon was absolutely the final straw.

She’d barely unpacked from their last trip on the road before she was shoving all of the same stuff back into her suitcase, jersey still a little damp from the dryer. Jamie had waved her off with a cheerful grin and a promise of a Chipotle lunch when she got back, and god, Abby very rarely felt like quitting soccer, but seeing her roommate plan her weekend with friends felt like the universe was tempting fate.

Sam emerged from the bathroom bathed in a cloud of steam and wrapping her hair in a towel.

‘Have you been sucking on a lemon?’

Abby reached for a pillow to throw,

‘You know how much I hate playing away.’

‘It’s your superiority complex. All Cali girls have one.’

Abby raised an eyebrow, ‘You’re from Boston and you never shut up about Tom Brady.’

Sam waved her away dismissively,

‘That’s different. I mostly just think he’s kind of hot.’

‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.’

Sam sat on the edge of her bed and grinned. The grey UCLA t-shirt she wore was just tight enough on her that Abby felt fairly sure they’d swapped laundry by mistake,

‘What? I have a taste for talented guys.’

‘Taste is not the word I would use, but sure.’

‘We all have an embarrassing crush,’ Sam shot back, ‘Mine is Tom Brady, yours is my sister.’

Abby buried herself deeper in her sheets,

‘Great. Back to regularly scheduled programming of Kristie jokes.’

‘Too soon?’ came Sam’s muffled reply.

‘No,’ Abby said sharply, ‘Not too soon. I’m over her.’

The covers were suddenly stripped away, and Abby let out a yelp as her carefully arranged pillows and blankets set up fell apart. She looked up at Sam accusingly,

‘We need to brush our teeth.’ Sam said, by way of explanation, and Abby reluctantly followed her back into the bathroom.

‘I meant that,’ Abby said, reaching for her toothbrush, ‘I really am over Kristie.’

Sam didn’t reply, shoving her own toothbrush in her mouth.

‘Sam,’ Abby pressed, and she despised the desperation in her own voice, ‘You have to believe me.’

Sam leaned forward to spit, wiping away some stray toothpaste from the corner of her mouth. There was enough tension between her eyebrows for Abby to tell that she was worried.

‘I never doubted you, Abby.’ she said quietly, ‘You don’t have to feel like you constantly have to prove that me.’

Abby leaned over the sink, let the panic leave her body,

‘Sorry. It’s just been a little bit of a weird week.’

‘Don’t apologize.’

Sam’s hand twitched over the small of her back. Abby let her hover there for a moment, waiting for her to move- wanting her to move- before realizing that Sam looked every bit as uncertain as she did.

Their relationship had been a lot of things, but it had never been uncertain.

Abby took a small step backwards, finding comfort of the familiarity of Sam’s fingers stretched across her shirt, stock still. She willed Sam to move, to step forward and pull her into a hug like she did when they celebrated a goal, when they sat on the pier licking at their ice cream cones and watching the sunset.

But it was Sam’s hand, not Sam, that moved first. She unstuck her palm from Abby’s back, and Abby braced herself for the spell to be broken, for them to step out the warm bathroom with the misted-up mirrors and go and win a soccer game like they did every week. She was considering making a bolt for the door when Sam touched her again- further up her back, fingertips brushing her collar.

Then her hand rested on the bare skin of her neck, and Abby prayed that Sam hadn’t felt the shudder than had run all the way along her spine. Sam’s thumb shifted a little, unable to decide on where to go, before she pinched Abby’s neck with her thumb and forefinger, massaging gently.

Abby closed her eyes, blocking out as much of the outside world as she could, focusing on the feeling of Sam’s fingertips. She let everything else fall away.

After what could’ve been several minutes- Abby wasn’t counting- the hand on her neck disappeared.

‘We need to sleep.’ Sam said, but her voice sounded echoey and far away. Abby simply nodded and allowed herself to be ushered back into the room. She flopped back onto her mattress and wondered when the world had started spinning.

‘You ready to sleep?’ Sam asked, not looking up from her phone as she set the alarm. Abby checked her watch,

‘It’s ten o’clock.’

Sam blinked at her slowly, ‘Yeah?’

‘Don’t you wanna read?’

‘You asked if we could skip reading tonight on the plane.’

‘Oh yeah.’ Abby replied. She felt lightheaded and off-balance.

Sam rested her head on her pillow, expression unreadable, ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

Oregon on the road was always tough- Abby knew that much. She liked their jerseys too, with the green and the black trim. She always found time to appreciate a good uniform when she saw it. Caprice did too- but her admiration was mostly rooted in jealousy. Abby hadn’t seen a jersey that had fit her properly in the many years that she’d known her, even after Caprice had repeatedly put it through a warm wash in the washing machine to try to make it shrink. Sometimes it looked like she was doing wind sprints, with her shirt bellowing out behind her like a parachute.

Coach Snow was less interested in their jerseys and more interested in winning- a sentiment that Sam seemed to share. Megan yelped in the warmup as Sam launched herself, limbs outstretched, into a crushing slide tackle that swept Megan’s feet, as well as the ball, off the ground, and Abby winced. Sam was famous for taking warm ups too seriously, but taking out a teammate was a step towards the extreme that was relatively unheard of.

‘Save that for the game, Sam.’ Amanda, their athletic trainer, called from the sidelines. They’d been fortunate with injuries so far- just a few knocks here and there, and no one had missed more than two weeks of games, but Abby very much wanted to keep it that way.

Abby stared squarely at Sam’s back as she pushed herself off the dirt and did her best not to think about the previous night.

Fall had truly settled in Eugene, browning leaves from the trees swirling at the edges of the touchlines, cool breeze giving Abby fresh relief from the previous week’s burning heat of Arizona. The change in climate didn’t bother them though, and when Sam slipped a pass between the two center backs for Taylor to run onto, Abby wondered if they were truly becoming invincible as she watched the net bulge.

They could’ve scored another, and another, and probably another after that if they’d really wanted to- but Abby sensed the exhausted arrogance of a team that won too much, a team that didn’t know what it felt like to throw away a win. Oregon had seemed resigned to defeat since Taylor’s goal, making few attempts to really push forward and press the defenders, so Abby felt perfectly comfortable rotating her passes between Sarah and Chelsea and winding the clock down.

They won. They won, but it wasn’t enough, and Abby knew it. Coach Snow pursed his lips a little at the final whistle, but kept his debrief surprisingly short,

‘A better team that Oregon would’ve beaten you today.’ He said, like it was a fact, before setting his clipboard down and striding out of the room, leaving them all to sit in silence.

They had a one-day layover between games, so Caprice offered to take Abby in to town to buy a book. It was a weird tradition they had, to go out in every city they visited and find a local bookstore to buy a book. Abby had set aside a whole shelf in her dorm for it, and they’d slowly but steadily been adding to their collection.

She had never been too much of a reader- not of the classics, at least- but she’d developed a taste in shitty crime novels with worn covers and overused plot devices that had become oddly comforting.

‘Abby,’ Caprice said, sticking her head around a towering bookshelf, ‘I found a crime novel for you.’

‘Yeah?’ Abby asked, absentmindedly. Her finger traced the spine of a worn leather book. Caprice shuffled over, poking her head over Abby’s shoulder to see what she was staring at.

‘You’re kidding,’ she said in disbelief, ‘Shakespeare’s sonnets?’

‘Shut up.’ Abby said quickly, hand dropping from the shelf, ‘I just like the binding.’

Caprice held her hands up, ‘Hey, I’m not shaming. Just didn’t have you pinned as the ‘intellectual reader’, or whatever.’

‘I know.’ Abby said, biting her lip before continuing, ‘I don’t think I’d understand them well enough anyway.’

Caprice pulled the book off the shelf and dropped it in her hands, ‘Read it and you’ll find out.’

Abby stared at the embroidered writing on the cover and weighed up her options. The 1.99 sticker on the back sealed the deal.

Which was how, hours later in their hotel room, Abby returned from a games night in Katelyn’s room to see Sam sprawled on her bed, absorbed in the pages.

‘I see you’ve stumbled upon my recent purchase.’ Abby laughed, shutting the door behind her.

‘You read a couple of lines of Shakespeare and start talking like you’re in the Middle Ages.’ Sam replied unfazed, rolling on to her back.

‘You like it?’

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘I got bored of you acting all high and mighty about my crime novels.’

‘It’s the coffee stains,’ Sam shuddered, ‘I don’t know how you can buy a book knowing someone’s spilled something over it.’

Abby snatched the book from Sam’s hands, ‘That’s part of the attraction.’

They both grinned at each other, and for a moment Abby felt a brief flicker of hope that whatever weird curse had fallen over their heads had disappeared- but then Sam’s smile dropped and she looked away, leaving Abby with an unpleasant hollowness in her heart.

‘We’re good, right?’ she blurted, sitting on the edge of her mattress. Sam dropped back against the pillows and stared at her, and even with a good two meters between them, something flickered.

‘Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?’

The million-dollar question.

Abby shook her head with a little laugh, dismissing it. The book winked at her accusingly from her hands, like it was laughing at her.

‘Tell me about your Uno tournament,’ Sam prompted, ‘Who won?’

And just like that, they moved on. Abby didn’t think to bring it up ever again.

When they played Oregon State, it was like whatever blip they had had against Oregon had dissolved, replaced by a snarling hunger. Megan was the one sending Sam toppling over onto the dirt in their pre-game scrimmage, but Sam just brushed her knees off good naturedly and carried on. The wind was a lot sharper than two nights before, a lot colder.

They scored just three minutes in. The ball dropped just right for Zakiya in the box, after an Oregon State defender tried to head the ball away from danger, and Zakiya didn’t think twice before blasting the ball in. Caprice was taken down on the edge of the area during the very next attack, and Sarah stepped up to effortlessly loop a freekick over the wall and into the top corner. They had two in six minutes.

The intensity was so infectious that Abby found herself bellowing instructions without even a hint of self-doubt chewing at the back of her mind, eyes glued to the lines of players in front of her. Opposing midfielders bounced off Sam every time they managed to get close to her, and Sam didn’t seem to even notice that they were there.

It was a miracle that they were only two girls up at the half, Abby thought. The Oregon State keeper had come up big, making all the stops that she’d needed to. Their game plan was working, Coach Snow agreed, they just needed to be more clinical.

Oregon State had kickoff at the start of second half, and their center back sent a long, arching ball over the top that was carried into the striker’s path by the wind. Katelyn, who’s muscles were probably still stiff from the break, went to ground just a fraction too early, and the striker coolly clipped the ball over her onrushing form.

Abby ran straight past Katelyn, who was hauling herself off the turf, and picked the ball out of the net, launching a drop kick towards Taylor, who was waiting at the center spot. The best way to reply to goal, Abby remembered her high school coach saying, is to get one right back.

For the next ten minutes, Oregon didn’t get a touch on the ball. Taylor eventually put them out of their misery, juking a player out of her shoes before cutting in to swing a low, hard shot at the far post.

Two goals up again, they still refused to stop. Abby pushed the defense’s line almost to the edge of the center circle and stayed there, ready to clean up any loose passes. Caprice, who had long since abandoned any of the traditional duties of a right-back, chased an OSU winger back into her own third, before knocking the ball loose and squaring it to Rosie, who sent one last pass over to Zakiya, and Abby found herself celebrating the goal before Zakiya even took a touch.

Coach Snow was hardly one to hand out praise lightly, but even he had nothing negative to say as they trudged into the locker room. They’d done him proud, Abby knew, and it felt better than any high from an alcohol-fueled party on a Saturday night.

‘Library date?’ Sam’s text had read, and Abby had gratefully dropped the dumbbell she had been using to do bicep curls onto her sheets and reached for her textbook.

They’d returned from Oregon in high spirits, knowing they wouldn’t have to travel out of state for an away game for the rest of the regular season. Abby had stowed her overnight bag under her bed gratefully, and went straight out for lunch with Jamie.

She’d been looking forward to telling Jamie about her moment with Sam in their hotel bathroom, envisioned Jamie throwing her head back and laughing as she told the story- but when Jamie had leaned across the table and asked about her weekend, Abby just shrugged non-committedly and told her it had been uneventful. There had been something vulnerable in Sam’s voice that night, like she was entrusting her with a secret that Abby knew she couldn’t pass on, that made her hold back, made her keep it to herself. She’d not even told Caprice- Caprice, her best friend at youth national team camps, the girl who had went into overwhelming amounts of detail about the amazing sex she’d had with some random guy in the back of his truck the week before, the person who Abby had told about absolutely everything major that had gone on in her life. Abby wasn’t even sure that Sam would’ve minded if she’d talked to someone about it. It was cute, it was sweet, it had made Abby feel better. But it had felt like a huge violation of Sam’s trust, so Abby had kept her mouth closed.

She’d not seen Sam in a few days, she realized, as she pulled open the door to the library and tried to not let her books slip out from under her arm. Coach Snow had given them a few days off to recuperate, and they’d both been busy catching up with work. Even so, Abby felt a sudden nervousness wash over her.

Sam had found them a table at the far corner of the library, where the light fell through the stained-glass windows and made patterns on the wood. She was sat hunched over a book and her glasses had fallen down her nose in the way that made Abby think of an endearing teacher. Abby dropped her books on the table with a solid thump and snickered as Sam startled in her chair.

‘There you are,’ Sam huffed, ‘I was about to text and tell you to hurry up.’

‘Sorry,’ Abby apologized, sliding into the chair opposite, ‘I was in the middle of a workout.’

‘Still grinding even on off days.’

‘Gotta work for that scholarship. What are you reading?’

‘Paradise Lost.’ Sam said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘What’s that?’

‘An epic poem about the fall of Adam and Eve.’

Abby winced, ‘Yikes.’

‘It’s good. Kinda funny sometimes.’

‘Your humor must be broken.’

‘Let’s see what you brought then,’ Sam said, tugging at the book under Abby’s arm, ‘“Institutions and Social Processes”. What the hell even is that?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ Abby admitted, ‘I’m going to have to read it first.’

‘Hurry up then.’ Sam smirked, turning her attention back to her book. Abby watched her read for a while, a crinkle forming between her eyes as she focused.

Abby always planned her study dates with friends according to the quantity of work she had to do. There were times where all she had to do was edit an essay, so she spent three hours in a study hall with Caprice whispering about the most random things instead, often leaving without even touching her document. Megan was the ideal partner for a short and quick study session- an hour of work followed by a coffee. Abby always went to Sam when she had an essay to write, because Sam’s presence, even when she was totally silent, put her at ease enough for the words to flow.

They sat there for over an hour without speaking, the sounds of Sam’s pen against paper and Abby’s highlighter in her textbook echoing a little in their enclosed corner. It was only when Sam leaned back in her chair and yawned that Abby finally looked up from her work.

‘Tired?’

Sam looked tired. Abby could see that her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair was a little unkempt.

‘Kind of. I have an addiction to watching One Tree Hill reruns at midnight.’

‘That show is worth staying up all night for.’ Abby agreed.

Sam hesitated for a moment, looking like she was trying to find the right words,

‘This guy in my class was talking about, and I forgot how much I love it.’

Abby put her highlighter down and took the bait, ‘What guy?’

‘He’s called Pat.’ Sam said, faint blush on her cheeks.

‘Is he nice?’

‘Very.’

Abby smiled softly, ‘That’s great, Sam.’

‘I mean, there’s nothing there yet, we’re just-’

‘Hey,’ Abby put her hand up, ‘I get it. I’ve had crushes before. It’ll work out.’

She waited for one of Sam’s go-to Kristie jokes, but none came. Sam’s face looked pained,

‘Abby, I’ve never been on a date before.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’

‘Oh,’ said Abby, struggling to wrap her head around the idea that Sam had been single all her life, ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘I don’t really know what I’m doing.’

Abby sighed, taking a moment to lean back in her seat and process it all.

‘Sam, I’ve been on two dates this semester and four in total in my life, and I can unfortunately tell you that it doesn’t get any easier.’

‘Great,’ Sam mumbled, ‘You fill me with so much confidence.’

‘No,’ Abby groaned, ‘That’s not my point. I’m just saying Pat’s probably equally as nervous as you are. It doesn’t matter how many dates he’s been on compared to you, he still wants to be able to impress you, right?’

Sam looked at her oddly for a second, like she couldn’t believe that Abby was actually giving good dating advice, but then she smiled,

‘Thank you for that.’

‘Anytime.’ Abby said, feeling pleased with herself. Sam’s gaze shifted from Abby’s face to past her shoulder, and she waved at someone behind her. Abby turned to see a girl waving back from across the library, dimples flashing at them even from a distance.

‘Who’s that?’ she asked, before Sam could go back to her book.

‘Vani.’ Sam said absently, scrawling something in the margin of her page, ‘She’s in my English class.’

‘She’s pretty.’

That made Sam look up, ‘I’m pretty sure she likes women.’

‘No way.’ Laughed Abby, ‘As if we’d be so lucky.’

‘No, I’m almost certain. I talked to her during the first week of the semester and she was asking if there were any ‘hot girls’ on the soccer team.’

‘Well? Are there any hot girls on the soccer team?’

‘Yeah, you’re not one of them though- Ouch! Okay okay, you’re hot, fine.’

You’re hot.

‘I’m going to go up and talk to her.’ Abby decided, rising to her feet with a flourish. Sam’s eyes flew away from the page,

‘What?’

‘She likes hot girls, I like hot girls. Match made in heaven.’

Sam began to laugh, ‘Go on then. Go and talk to her.’

The amusement on Sam’s face irritated Abby enough for her to swivel on a heel and start to walk across the room. She’d made it roughly half way before the rational thinking side of her brain kicked in and told her no, this is a really, really stupid idea, but by that time of course, it was far too late.

‘Hey.’ Abby said, as she stopped at the table that the girl was sat at and wondered where she’d mustered up the courage from. The girl looked up at her, confused. Abby tried to take her all in without making it obvious that she was staring.

‘Hey.’ The girl said, raising one neatly manicured eyebrow.

‘I’m Abby,’ Abby swallowed, holding out her hand, ‘I’m Sam’s friend.’

‘Hi Abby,’ she said, and Abby almost passed out at the sound of her voice, ‘I’m Vani. Also Sam’s friend.’

‘Yeah, Sam was telling me,’ Abby said, trying not to let her mouth run away with her, ‘She said you were looking for hot girls on the soccer team. I’m on the soccer team.’

A look of both amusement and interest flashed across Vani’s face.

‘Oh?’

Abby leaned in a little, dropping her voice down to a whisper, ‘Sam and I have this bet, and I have to go on three dates before the end of the semester.’

Vani glanced over Abby’s shoulder at Sam, but Abby didn’t dare look back.

‘Well, Abby,’ Vani said smoothly, reaching out to pluck some dust off Abby’s sweatshirt, ‘I can definitely help you with that.’

Abby exhaled, ‘You can?’

‘Mmmhmm. You free tonight.’

‘Yeah.’

‘How’s nine o’clock for you?’ At my place?’

‘Perfect,’ said Abby, ‘I’ll see you then.’

Vani held out her hand and Abby stared at it stupidly,

‘Give me your phone,’ Vani laughed, ‘So we can swap numbers.’

‘Oh, yeah, of course.’ Abby said, fumbling for her phone and feeling heat rising in her cheeks. There was silence for a moment as Vani tapped in her number and wrote Abby’s number down on the edge of her page.

‘Cool,’ she said, handing Abby her phone back, ‘I’ll text you.’

Abby walked back slowly to her and Sam’s table, praying that her knees didn’t give out on the journey back. Sam was sat with her nose still in her book when Abby got back, feigning disinterest.

‘Well?’ she asked, not looking up.

Abby sat down in the chair and put on the smuggest smile she could muster,

‘I’m going to hers at nine tonight.’

Sam dropped the act, jaw dropping so far that Abby had the urge to reach out and close it for her.

‘You’re joking.’

‘Nope.’

Sam shook her head, palm rubbing at her chin, ‘Incredible.’

‘So,’ Vani said, rolling smoothly off Abby’s hips as if she hadn’t just made Abby scream her name into the sheets, ‘How was that?’

‘Are you kidding?’ Abby panted, struggling to get her breath back, ‘That was probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.’

Vani said nothing, but Abby saw her lip curl upwards out of the corner of her eye.

‘I don’t do this often.’ Abby admitted.

‘Do what?’

‘Have sex on the first date.’

‘I can tell.’

Abby flinched, ‘That bad, huh?’

‘No,’ Vani replied, fingers pressing against Abby’s side, ‘The sex was good. Very good. You just looked nervous.’

‘I was nervous,’ Abby said, ‘You’re gorgeous.’

Vani almost purred, pressing her lips against Abby’s collarbone. Abby’s breathing sped up a little. Vani’s hands moved down from her midriff and towards her thighs.

‘I can tell when someone’s fucking me to get over someone, you know.’ She said, and the buzz of pleasure inside Abby’s head cut out suddenly. She considered denying it, briefly- but she figured that the best chance of seeing Vani again lay with telling the truth.

‘Maybe.’ She confessed, fingers rubbing at her eyes.

‘Who is it? Please don’t say it’s some boring guy.’

Abby laughed, ‘No. It’s Sam’s sister, actually.’

Vani drew back to look her in the eyes, ‘Ouch.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘What are you gonna do?’

‘Well,’ Abby sighed, stretching her arms above her head, ‘Going on dates with people wasn’t really working until now.’

‘I’m guessing that’s what the whole bet with Sam was about.’ Vani smirked,

‘Yup. If I didn’t go out with three people before Christmas then I’d have to spend Thanksgiving with her family.’

‘Sam has a flair for those kinds of things.’

‘Maybe,’ grinned Abby, ‘But I’ll never find out what she had planned, because I’ve just won the bet.’

‘Glad to be of service,’ Vani said, holding her hand out for Abby to shake, ‘But I’m afraid you’ve still got it bad for the sister. I can feel it.’

Abby groaned, twisting her head to check the time on Vani’s clock. Eleven o’clock.

‘Got any dating advice for a girl who has feelings for someone she’s never met?’

‘Have sex with her.’ Vani said promptly, and Abby rolled her eyes, ‘I’m serious. You probably have this idealized version of her in your head. You need to figure out that she’s just a regular person, like the rest of us.’

‘I would do that,’ Abby said, dripping with sarcasm, ‘If not for the problem that, one, she’s a senior at Boston College, two, she has a girlfriend, and three, she’s my best friend’s sister.’

‘Where there’s a will there’s a way.’ Vani said, pulling her pants up over her thighs and reaching for her t-shirt, ‘Come on, I’m hungry.’

They inhaled the remnants of the leftover Chinese that Vani had ordered for their dinner, before curling up on the couch with tubs of Ben and Jerry’s to watch X-Files. I deserve this, Abby thought, spooning chunks of cookie dough into her mouth. Vani was effortlessly cool, with a genuine kindness in her heart that Abby realized must’ve been why she made fast friends with Sam. In any other scenario, Abby would’ve been giddy at the prospect of seeing her again, but even as Vani leaned over to press her lips to hers for the umpteenth time that night, Abby knew that her point about her still being into Kristie had been exactly spot on.

Abby woke up the next morning in Vani’s bed with the stark realization that she was back to square one. In fact, she wasn’t even certain that she’d left square one in the first place.

‘Leaving already?’ Vani grunted from the bed as Abby threw on her clothes.

‘I have a weights session at ten.’ Abby explained, trying to sound apologetic. The truth was that it was optional, but Abby went with Sam every week, and she really, really needed to clear her head.

‘I would ask you to text me,’ Vani said, ‘But I know you won’t.’

Abby didn’t reply, but only because she knew it was the truth.

Vani’s flat was only a couple of blocks over from her dorm, so Abby walked home, resisting the urge to reach up to tie her hair back in the full knowledge that she had a line of marks stretching from just below her jaw to her shoulder.

The streets were busy, even at a relatively early time on a Saturday, and Abby stepped back to allow a stream of people to flow out of her building’s doors before she entered. With a silent prayer, Abby quietly pushed open her dorm’s door, wincing as it creaked loudly.

‘It’s okay,’ Jamie called from the bathroom, ‘I’m awake.’

Abby stuck her nose around the door, and Jamie grinned at her in the mirror,

‘Good night?’

‘Yes.’ Abby admitted, and Jamie’s smile grew wider,

‘How many rounds?’

‘I’m not answering that.’ Abby shot back, pushing past to grab a fresh bottle of shampoo from the cupboard.

‘Oh so a lot a lot.’

‘Get out of here,’ Abby said, pushing her roommate towards the door, ‘I need to have a shower.’

She stumbled into the weight room only five minutes after she arranged to meet Sam there, still adjusting her ponytail. Sam had already started her reps, and she looked up from doing her lifts in the corner.

‘Here she is.’ Sam grinned, ‘Fresh from her night in a stranger’s bed.’

‘You can tease me all you like. I’ve just won the bet.’

Abby expected Sam to look just a little disappointed, but her smile seemed genuine.

‘Fair enough. Well played.’

Abby raised an eyebrow, ‘That’s all you’ve got to say about that?’

Sam shrugged, ‘I knew you could do it. And hey, it wasn’t like I didn’t help you along the way.’

Sam was right. Even though Ben had turned out to be a dead end, Sam had still been the one who passed on his number to Abby in the first place, and given him help in planning the date.

‘I thought you wanted me to come to yours for Thanksgiving.’ Abby said, still a little suspicious.

‘I just want you to be happy.’ Sam replied.

It struck a chord with Abby for some reason.

‘I am happy.’

‘Good,’ Sam said, setting the dumbbell down, ‘Come on, indulge me. How was your date with Vani?’

Abby blushed, ‘It was less like a date and more like a hook-up.’

Sam whistled, ‘Sex on the first date. You never do that.’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Huh?’

‘Did it cure you of all things Kristie Mewis?’ Sam took a sip from her bottle, but her face stayed serious.

‘No,’ Abby said uncomfortably. The thought made her sit down hard on the weight bench.

‘Oh.’ Sam said carefully. She looked as if she didn’t quite know what to say, ‘No second date then?’

‘No second date.’

Sam went back to her weights, and Abby watched out of the corner of her eye.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Sam said at the end of her set, ‘I’m proud of you.’

Abby twisted to look at her properly, ‘For what?’

‘You put yourself out there. That’s not easy.’

‘No,’ Abby mused, ‘I suppose it isn’t.’

‘When you find someone you like- and I mean really like- it probably won’t plan out in the way you expect.’

‘Thank you Jedi Master. You are so wise.’

Sam pretended to throw the dumbbell at her, ‘Shut up.’

‘Okay,’ Abby laughed, hands up in the air in surrender, ‘I’ve told you about my thing, so now it’s your turn to tell me about your thing.’

Sam gave her the side eye, ‘If you think I’m going to tell you anything about Pat you’re going to be disappointed.’

---

Abby started to get nervous about the Stanford game exactly a week before they were scheduled to play them.

They beat the Bears at home with uncharacteristic ease- a three-nil blowout that had left her feeling too optimistic to think about playing the top team in the country for the rest of the night. But on Monday morning, staring at herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair, she felt unease settle on her stomach like it had done the year previously.

Abby didn’t know what it was about Stanford. Maybe it was the fact that they were ranked first overall- but Abby hardly cared about rankings, and Coach Snow made a point of never mentioning it at practice. He firmly believed that any team could cause an ‘upset’ on any given weekend, and Abby was inclined to agree with him.

It wasn’t like Abby was the only one nervous about playing Stanford. They were ranked in second- so the winner effectively claimed top spot, as well as the conference title. There was an air of edginess at training that evening, a feeling that they were reaching the do-or-die point of the season.  

Abby just about managed to keep up with her work throughout the week, handing in essays minutes before they were due rather than hours, staying up past midnight to ensure she was caught up with her reading. Her professors were always sympathetic, and Abby was certain that she could’ve got an extension if she asked, but wanted to convince herself that the week was just the same as any other week- with no season-deciding game at the end of it.

She spent as little time with her teammates as possible, and to their credit, they respected her craving for space. Sam didn’t text her for the entire week out of principle, but Abby found herself staring at their text chain in the evenings, half-wanting, half-dreading a message popping up. If Jamie noticed Abby’s mood change, she said nothing, but Abby wondered if the extra half-second that Jamie spent squeezing her shoulders on Saturday night was her way of comforting her.

Pre-match yoga was a team requirement, especially on the day of big games, but Abby stretched her yoga mat as far away from her friends as possible, closing her eyes to focus entirely on the stretches. Coach Snow watched them impassively from under a tree, and Abby wondered what he was thinking.

Caprice picked her up from outside her building at four o’clock sharp, offering Abby nothing but a quick smile as she sidled into the passenger seat. They’d made it to the crossroads just before the turn-off for the carpark before Abby said anything, voice a little squeaky from lack of conversation,

‘How are you feeling?’

Caprice shrugged, ‘Excited. Nervous. What about you?’

Loaded question.

‘Same, pretty much. I’m trying not to think about it.’

Caprice didn’t reply, instead reaching out blindly to grab one of Abby’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Jogging out for the warm-up, Abby felt the screams of a four-thousand-strong crowd bellow from behind her, the stands teeming with supporters dressed in blue and gold. There was a small section of Stanford supporters at the very bottom of one of the stands, but their boos were easily drowned out.

Abby went through the warm-up in a daze, not paying attention to any of the drills she was doing and allowing her body to go into auto-pilot. No one said a word, and she hardly noticed her teammates were there at all. Thirty minutes from kick-off, they all obediently returned to the locker room.

Coach Snow was quietly focused, keeping his instructions swift and to-the-point, knowing that they all had a limited attention span. He called them all in to a huddle in the middle of the room and speaking in low but emphatic tones.

‘Let’s go, come on!’ he encouraged, clapping a few of them on the back as they headed out into the tunnel. A hand fell on to Abby’s shoulder, and she found herself blinking up at Sam, who she’d not acknowledged for over a week. A silent understanding passed between them, and the tight knot in Abby’s throat loosened.

Stanford had kick-off, one of their strikers rolling the ball under her sole as she waited for everyone to get into position.

‘We don’t let them score, you hear me?’ Ally hissed, shooting daggers along the line, ‘We give them nothing.’

Abby nodded, eyes still focused on the ball.

‘Push up!’ she called to her defense as the striker sent the ball rolling back towards the Stanford midfielders, and the crowd roared in delight.

Stanford were good.

That much was apparent and perhaps had always been apparent. They kept their passes short and simple, more than willing to play the ball back and restart the attack if they ran into trouble. Abby hated playing against two-striker systems and realized, dread coursing through her system, that she was in for a rough night.

Ally’s initial plan to ‘give them nothing’ fell out the window as early as the fourth minute. The Bruins already fallen back into a low block, with no way of winning the ball back other than getting bodies behind it and praying for a loose pass somewhere. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see Sam running herself into the ground as the Stanford midfield played the ball around with ease. Stanford’s number nine shrugged off a challenge from Caprice in the box like she was swatting away a fly, and Abby counted her blessings that Katelyn’s wrists were strong enough to push her shot around the post. The teams clustered together for the corner, Abby taking up her spot at the front post, and the delivery swung in, high and arching towards the back post.

Abby didn’t see it, but she felt it- the ball colliding with the post. There were shouts from the sideline, and the jostle of bodies diving for the rebound, but as the bodies dispersed Katelyn remained on the ground, ball wrapped safely in her hands. Abby let out her breath shakily.

Play evened out after that- they managed to retain possession, getting a feel of the ball before they started pressing forward. Abby didn’t see Sam misplace a pass once. Zakiya, who’d been unstoppable almost all season, managed to get a shot away just five minutes before the break, but Abby had the awful feeling that the game would be decided by a singular goal.

There were cameras everywhere.

Abby hadn’t noticed it before. She’d been so absorbed in the game and the warm-up and the atmosphere that she’d completely forgotten that it was all being televised. She flinched a little as the cameras swung on to her as she walked off the field, sipping at her bottle. The last thing she needed was another distraction.

Contrary to most game weeks, the locker room was loud at the half. Abby stood in a circle with the rest of the defenders, trying to work out how to shut out Stanford’s strikers. Coach Snow let them talk for a few minutes, watching them from next to the whiteboard, before calling for their attention.

‘You can win this,’ he said, eyes bright, back straight, ‘We are going to walk out of here tonight with a conference title.’

Abby believed him. She really did.

They started the second half fast. So fast. Abby passed it to Caprice, who passed it to Zakiya, who passed it to Taylor, who put it in the net. Abby heard herself scream, felt her legs carry her forwards, felt herself collide with the mass of bodies who’d descended on Taylor.

It felt like heaven.

They played with confidence. Jenna ran riot, sliding the ball between defenders’ legs, ducking and weaving her way down the field. Stanford’s tiny Hawaiian midfielder (‘I’m going to pretend she’s not there’ Caprice had said before the game) who had caused them so much trouble in the first half suddenly found herself being trailed everywhere by Sam.

Stanford couldn’t get anywhere near the goal, and as the minutes trickled agonizingly by, Abby grew more and more determined.

Things fell apart with only fifteen minutes left. It was so cruel, Abby thought afterwards, for them to get that far only to have it all ruined. It was that number nine, one lone striker against all four defenders, and they back-tracked and back-tracked and back-tracked, waiting for a heavy touch or any moment’s hesitation to leap forward and win it back. Number nine looked up, saw an opening, and took her chance from twenty yards out.

It should’ve never been a goal, but that was the nature of the game.

In principle, they should’ve had fifteen minutes left to score a winner. Or they could’ve held the tie and gone into overtime. But Abby felt their mindset slipping, felt the positivity drain from the back-line who had held out so desperately for over seventy minutes. Abby felt like they were losing.

And then, just two minutes later, they really were losing, and the crowd went so horribly quiet.

UCLA scrambled for an equaliser. Abby saw Sam’s shot blocked from the edge of the area. She saw Chelsea’s shot, blocked on the goal line. She saw the referee blow for time, she saw the Stanford players flood the pitch, she saw Coach Snow hang his head, finally, in defeat.

Abby wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel the same level of pain again as she did in that moment. Heart wringing itself dry inside her chest as she shook hands with the beaming Stanford players.

She watched Sam stand stock still in the centre of the field, wiping what was either sweat or tears from her face with her sleeve.

Abby suspected it was both.

They ended up in another hotel for the last game of the season, because of course they’d have their final home game rescheduled as an away game. It was like the universe was punishing Abby for literally dropping the ball against Stanford. As if she wasn’t heart-broken enough already.

They were playing USC in a stadium just across the city from them, but Coach Snow had decided he wanted them off campus for the week and training at USC’s fields in preparation. Abby suspected that he’d wanted an escape from Drake Stadium, and she hardly blamed him.

The Stanford loss had hit them hard, especially when Abby could see that Coach Snow had been just as affected by it as they had. Jamie had spent the the night in her bed, and Abby had sobbed into her roommate’s pajama shirt until the tears ran dry.

Abby hated away games, but she was grateful to get away from campus for a while, to avoid the slightly sympathetic stares of her classmates when she’d walked into her lecture on Monday morning.

And Sam still hadn’t texted her. Abby hadn’t been able to take her eyes off her after the Stanford game, like she had to make up for all the lost time she’d spent ignoring her before the game, but Sam hadn’t looked her way even once. Abby spent five minutes outside their shared hotel room with her suitcase, weighing up whether or not it was appropriate to knock, before deciding just to let herself in with her key card. Sam looked up from her bed as Abby dragged her luggage in, and Abby knew it would all be okay.

‘Hey.’ Sam said softly, ‘Long time no see.’

Abby knew she was trying to be funny, but she couldn’t quite make her smile meet her eyes,

‘How are you?’

‘Tired.’ Said Sam, and she looked it. It was the first time Abby had ever seen bags under her eyes.

‘Tough week.’ Abby said, and she didn’t phrase it like a question. Sam nodded,

‘We need to regroup. Wanna play cards?’

They didn’t speak much as they played, but for every smile Sam sent her way, Abby found herself forgiving herself a little more.

USC weren’t anywhere near their level, and everyone on the team knew it. They should’ve had the haughty swagger of a team ranked third in the country, but the loss to Stanford had knocked them badly, and everyone on the team knew that too. Abby knew the USC players would be just as aware, knew that they’d probably watched the tape of the game against Stanford, knew exactly how to expose their weaknesses.

Training continued as usual. Coach Snow was adamant their training style would work, adamant that the Stanford loss hadn’t changed their season’s goals. They were supposed to turn their attention to closing the regular season with a win, before focusing on the playoffs.

The game was played on a Friday at two instead of the usual Sunday evening slot, so there was only a smattering of people in the crowd, and every single one of them was cheering for USC. Coach Snow rambled on for five minutes before the game of the importance of bouncing back and getting a big win and Abby ended up walking out onto the field with the expectation that they were about to blow USC’s brains out.

The goals didn’t come easily. USC were the first team that Abby had seen that season to double up on Sam. It resulted in Jenna drifting free throughout the midfield, but with no one to pass her the ball in the first place, she was effectively out the game as well. It was only when they made an executive decision thirty minutes into the game to send the ball up through Caprice and Lucretia that their offence finally got moving. Chelsea just about managed to dodge the challenge of an onrushing midfielder to send the ball sliding through to Zakiya, who had scored twelve goals all season and who Abby knew would never pass up on the chance to score a thirteenth.

One-nil at the break didn’t cut it, and Abby could feel the panic nipping at her heels. Some momentous upheaval had happened in the wake of the Stanford game, and she had no idea how to fix it.

Conceding in the second half had started to become their brand. Katelyn, who’d not put a foot wrong all season, inexplicably spilled a cross into the path of a USC player, who couldn’t believe her luck. Abby actually heard Coach Snow’s grunt of frustration all the way from the bench.

Abby had been tasked with marking USC’s tall, blonde striker, and she’d managed to keep her quiet for the most part. What she’d not banked on, however, was USC’s right-back streaking up the pitch to join a counter-attack. Abby’s eyes flicked between the striker and the right-back, knowing she’d have to make the awful decision of having to pick one to follow into the box.

Abby realized, a fraction of a second too late, that the ball was going to the right-back. She dived forward, doing everything she could to get any part of her body on the ball, finger scrabbling at the deep red of USC’s jersey. Even in the best-case scenario, she knew she would’ve conceded a penalty. Katelyn’s fist thumped at the ground in frustration as the ball bobbled out of the net.

Abby felt her head drop, breathing in the scent of the grass, vision blurring.

‘Hey!’ came a distant shout, but Abby didn’t feel the full force of Sam until she felt Sam’s fingers pushing her chin up. Sam had grabbed the ball from the net and tucked it under her arm. She was standing so close- thigh pressed up against Abby’s thigh. Her eyes were grey and serious, ‘Hey.’ She repeated, ‘Let’s get the equalizer.’ Abby dumbly watched her run back into position.

Eighty-eight minutes had passed when Sam, true to her word, tapped the goal past the USC keeper. Even through the hugs and the screams, she managed to reach Abby’s eye.

Abby wasn’t sure she had enough energy to even pass the ball five yards at the final whistle, but Coach Snow told them he had no plans to take anyone off.

‘I need my best team out there,’ he said, clapping his hands together, ‘This is what all those hours of conditioning boils down to.’

Abby was drenched, head to toe, in a mix of sweat, water and Gatorade. Her vision was hazy at best, and she felt like her knees were about to give away any second. She went out there anyway.

She went out there and tackled and passed and intercepted. No goal came, but none were conceded either.

She was so close to another break in play, and USC had a throw from halfway through their half. Abby watched, entranced, as the USC player launched the long-throw into the box, ball soaring over her head.

By the time she’d shook herself out of her daze, they’d lost their second game in a row.

Abby cried in the shower, knowing that whatever noise she made would be drowned by the sound of running water.

Some days, she really hated soccer.

She cried until she felt numb, and then turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her body.

‘Can I come in?’ asked Sam from beyond the door, as Abby poked gingerly at her red face.

‘Yeah,’ Abby said, quickly wiping away any residual tears, ‘Come in.’

They’d both had showers at the stadium, but Sam hadn’t questioned it when Abby had told her she was going for another one. Her damp hair was piled in a bun on her head, leggings slightly too short for her legs.

Abby piled moisturizer onto her face as Sam refilled her bottle in the sink, before shuffling back to lean against the bathroom wall and drink. Abby kept her eyes focused on her face in the mirror.

She briefly considered texting Vani to ask if she could pick her up. It all felt too suffocating, with Sam watching her from underneath hooded eyelids as she took long sips. She wanted nothing more to be pressed into Vani’s mattress, coming loosely undone, not thinking about anything that had happened in the past two weeks.

‘Don’t go.’ Sam said, out of nowhere, and Abby got the eerie feeling that somehow Sam had read her mind. She placed her bottle of lotion back down against the sink and exhaled.

‘Can you do that thing again?’

She hoped she wasn’t being too ambiguous, but she didn’t want to be too specific either, at the risk of the trance-like state they seemed to go into exclusively in hotel bathrooms evaporating into nothingness. Sam, thankfully, needed no clarification. In moments, her hand was pressed against Abby’s neck, fingers rubbing with less hesitation and more confidence than the previous time. Abby struggled to stop herself from moaning, leaning backwards into the touch as Sam rubbed.

There was silence- Sam focusing on kneading Abby’s skin, and Abby focused on the feeling of Sam’s fingertips. When Sam stopped after a while, knuckles brushing against the loose strands of hair at the nape of her neck, Abby went cold.

‘Thank you.’ She whispered. Sam gave her an awkward pat on the back.

---

Going into the playoffs after losing two consecutive games was hardly the ideal scenario, but they just about got past Wisconsin, and Abby breathed a huge internal sigh of relief.

There was always a point in a season that they reached- often November- where she found herself so consumed in games and training that almost nothing else entered her mind. She stopped responding to her family’s emails, stopped going out for lunch with Jamie, stopped spending her Saturday evenings on the beach. She always felt guilty afterwards, overcompensating for all the time she’d spent in her own bubble with her teammates- but she realized that everyone who loved her had learned how to handle it.

And so she spent every waking moment with her team, watching tape, working out, stretching, until she finally got back to her dorm to have a shower, brush her teeth and pass out on her mattress. There was something mildly poetic in the way that she relied on her teammates when things reached boiling point. She formed unbreakable bonds with people who she knew she’d never have had the chance to get to know otherwise.

To her immense relief, they drew Kentucky at home in the second round. They’d gone out in the second round the previous year- a memory that was all too fresh in Abby’s mind (not least for the embarrassing reminder of her confession about Kristie to Sam afterwards), and apparently in the rest of the team’s minds as well.

They trained hard; sprints and weights and resistance bands and yoga balls took up Abby’s headspace. She inhaled nothing but the fumes of the freshly cut grass of their training field and the rubber of the gym equipment for three days straight.

Abby made sure she was at the stadium three hours before kickoff, and one hour before they were scheduled to arrive. She sat on the bleachers, rubbing at her fingers to stop them going cold, and watched the sunset.

I’m proud of myself.

She forced herself to say it, over and over again in her own mind until she lost track of what the words really meant. She’d played well all season. Coach Snow had called her into his office to congratulate her on making second team All-American. He’d even told her there’d been talk about her making some Hermann Trophy long list.

The first thing that Abby had felt wash over her when he’d told her was doubt.

Some part of her desperately wanted herself to pull it together, to get her head out of the mud and start believing in herself, but another part of her knew it was a slow process. It didn’t matter who thought she was a top prospect coming out of high school or who put her on some stupid awards list if she didn’t believe she belonged there in the first place.

And fuck, she had a long way to go before she was capable of the things that some of her teammates did week in, week out, but she felt so much better than she had the previous year.

She slipped quietly out of the stands when she noticed the Kentucky team bus roll up in the car park, joining her teammates in the already crowded locker room to get changed.

‘Hey.’ Said Sam, materializing out of nowhere to slide into the seat next to her. Abby wondered how someone who was six foot could move so silently.

‘Hey.’ She replied, pulling her jersey off its hanger and turning to face Sam.

‘Remember this game last year?’

Abby chuckled, ‘I was waiting for you to mention it.’

‘Let’s hope it ends better this time.’ Sam said, eyes fixed on Abby as she struggled to pull her t-shirt over her head.

‘We just need to play our game.’

Abby ran her fingers along the waistband of her shorts and Sam didn’t look away.

‘I forgot I made you get that.’ She said, pointing at Abby’s hip. Abby didn’t have to look down to know what she was talking about.

‘I regret getting tattoos with you every day of my life.’

‘Excuse me,’ Sam looked at her with mock offense, ‘It’s a great tattoo. Probably gives you superpowers or something.’

‘What, like I get to inherit a trait from you because I have your name on my body in curly handwriting?’

‘Exactly. You’re gonna run the full length of the pitch tonight and score.’

‘I think it’s more likely to just turn me into a really awful dancer.’

Sam flicked her towel at her, ‘Respect your elders.’

Kentucky wore blue and white, so they were resigned to wearing Abby’s least favorite dull-gold jersey. As they jogged out onto the pitch in their sand-dune-resembling monstrosities, Abby vowed to make Kentucky pay for making her look awful in the most important game of her college career to date.

They played with infinite caution for a large chunk of the first half, still sore from their back-to-back defeats. It took a moment of brilliance from Ally- shifting the ball onto her left and bending the ball towards the near post- to edge them in front. Coach Snow didn’t exactly shout at them at the break, but it didn’t matter because Abby could see he wanted to.

Chelsea, who had replaced Ally just five minutes before the end of the first half, led the charge back onto the field at the start of the second half. Abby watched her jaw clench and unclench, and vaguely remembered her sending the deciding penalty soar over the bar the year before.

When Chelsea scored- twice in ten minutes, Abby knew she’d never forget the look on her face for the rest of her life. The look of joy, relief and pure redemption.

They were three nil up in the seventieth minute, and Abby was flying sky high. There was a scramble in the box just a few minutes later, and it was the rookie Kylie who’d got in on the act. Abby could see the Kentucky players’ heads hanging low, and she bathed in the satisfaction of it all.

The curtain call came through another freshman, Kodi, who hustled for the ball in the box and won it, sending a shot flying past the keeper before she even had time to blink. Abby smiled at the fans cheering in the stands with disbelief, holding her hand up in the air, five fingers splayed wide. They’d scored five.

The tattoo on her hip may have never given her superpowers, but Abby felt as indestructible as they came as the final whistle blew.

Sam’s hands gripped at her shoulders, hair stuffed under her UCLA beanie. Abby grinned up at her,

‘This is way better than last time.’ She said, raising her voice to make sure she was heard over the roar of the crowd.

Sam squeezed her tighter.

They ended up in Chelsea’s apartment, as she was the only one who had her place to herself, roommate on the road for a basketball game. Abby didn’t count, but there must’ve been over twenty of them squeezed into Chelsea’s relatively small living room, some on the couch, some on the floor. Zakiya arrived just a few minutes after the rest of them- pulling some bottles of god-knows-what out of her bag and passing the shot glasses around the circle.

Abby played a few rounds of rummy before allowing Caprice to take her spot. She’d grown tired of Caprice whispering advice into her ear and she suspected that she’d already drunk too much, the world swaying as she climbed to her feet.

Abby wanted to make sure she could remember every detail of the night.

Chelsea’s kitchen was quieter than the living room, and Abby was grateful for the breathing space. She boosted herself up on the counter next to the sink and pushed open Chelsea’s window, sticking her nose out into the night to watch the traffic go by.

‘Abby!’ Came a call from the living room, and Abby glanced back towards the hall.

‘In the kitchen!’ Abby shouted back, craning her neck to try to see who was calling for her.

Sam appeared at the kitchen door, drink clutched in one hand. For a second, Abby thought she might be drunk, before realizing the Sam was holding a glass of water.

‘What are you doing?’ Sam laughed, gesturing at the open window.

‘Getting some fresh air,’ Abby replied, ‘Aren’t you hot?’

She tried to boost herself off the counter, but wobbled. Sam took an instinctive step forward,

‘Okay stop.’ She handed Abby her glass of water, palms falling onto Abby’s thighs to stop her from moving, ‘Drink this first.’

Abby drained the glass in one go, feeling the water slosh around in her stomach. Sam wordlessly took the glass back and began to refill it in the sink.

‘LA is so pretty,’ Abby said mindlessly, staring out into the dark again, ‘Sometimes I think I never want to leave.’

Sam pushed herself onto the counter across the sink from Abby and looked out at the view.

‘Why are you thinking about leaving now?’ she murmured, fingers tapping against the chrome surface, ‘We just started our sophomore year.’

Abby shrugged, feeling the prickle of tears behind her eyes.

I am not going to cry about this now.

‘I don’t know. I think it’s just that Jamie and I are moving out of our dorm next year. I just hate anything that reminds me of how quickly time is passing.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Sam, ‘I heard about that.’

Abby didn’t reply- there was nothing to reply to- but it suddenly felt like Sam was waiting for one.

‘I was thinking,’ Sam continued carefully, ‘Do you have any ideas about where you’re gonna live next year?’

‘What?’ Abby laughed, glancing over at her, ‘First you tell me not to worry about leaving LA, then you ask me if I’ve planned where I’m going to stay in a year’s time?’

‘Abby,’ Sam said, ‘Do you want to live with me?’

Abby stared at her, words frozen on her lips. Neither of them moved.

‘It’s totally fine if you don’t. You can take some time to think about it-’

‘I don’t need to think about it.’

‘That’s not a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.’

‘I want to live with you,’ Abby said, ‘Of course I want to live with you.’

Sam beamed, ‘Great! Obviously, we won’t need to plan for ages, and we need to get through this semester first, but I just thought I’d ask now.’

‘How long have you been considering it?’ Abby asked, reaching out to take the glass that Sam offered her.

‘Since September.’

‘That long?’

‘Yeah,’ Sam said, cheeks tinged with a darker shade of pink than usual, ‘You were always my first choice for a roommate.’

San Diego State were the third team they faced in the playoffs- an away fixture, but Abby didn’t count it as one, considering that they were only one zip code over.

Stanford, the team on the other side of the draw, had played before them, brushing past Denver with the poise of a championship contender. Despite the fact Coach Snow reminded them repeatedly to focus on their next game, Abby couldn’t help the agitation that settled on her shoulders at the prospect of playing Stanford again.

As it happened, they rolled over San Diego State like they weren’t even there. Three goals- a brace from Zakiya and another from Chelsea- sent them comfortably through, and all of a sudden Abby realized that they’d made it to the Elite Eight.

Their training during the next week was surprisingly light. Coach Snow removed some of their regular training slots and replaced them with ‘wellness hours’- Abby was initially skeptical of all the breathing exercises and relaxing piano music, but when she boarded the bus at the end of the week, she found that she felt looser than ever. She’d finally managed to catch-up on some sleep- and she no longer feared losing any more of it, even though they were doomed for another couple of nights in an average hotel.

Sam, who was usually so particular about taking the window seat, allowed Abby the luxury of choosing. Abby was so touched at the gesture that she offered to swap in the middle of the journey. They made it to Stanford in under five hours, which the bus driver announced was some sort of record. Abby stretched back in her seat with a yawn and looked over Sam’s shoulder at Stanford’s central campus, orange leaves covering the paths leading towards the buildings.

She knew it would only be so long before the nerves returned. She tossed and turned during the night until Sam sat up at midnight, turned on the light, and dragged her out of bed to go to the vending machines.

The street was quiet and dark, so Abby had to shine her phone’s flashlight at the coin slot while Sam fished in her pockets for change. They sat on the floor next to the vending machines in silence, Sam sipping at her diet coke and Abby chewing on her KitKat.

‘Big game tomorrow.’ Sam said, before checking her watch, ‘Or today, even.’

Abby swallowed a chunk of chocolate, ‘We’ve never beaten them.’

‘First time for everything.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Kristie will be watching.’ Sam said, and Abby could see her teasing smile without having to actually see it.

‘Yeah, well, unluckily for you, I won the bet.’

‘I forgot about that.’

‘It’s Thanksgiving in two weeks. You’re gonna have to tell your parents you’re coming to mine soon.’

‘They won’t be happy.’

Abby smirked, ‘Shouldn’t have bet against me.’

Sam scoffed lightly, getting to her feet and offering Abby her hand,

‘We need to get back to the room. You need rest.’

Abby allowed herself to be hauled up,

‘Easier said than done.’

Caprice took Abby to a bookstore the next morning, as per tradition. Abby settled on crinkled paperback written by some Swedish guy in the 90’s, and Caprice chose Shel Silverstein.

(‘How have you never read Shel Silverstein?’

‘He doesn’t publish in Hawaii apparently.’

‘Bullshit. Shel Silverstein books are sold everywhere.’

‘Not in Hawaii.’)

Caprice’s UCLA cap got some sidelong glances as they walked past the residential halls, but they made it back to the hotel in one piece and in time for their film session. Coach Snow talked to them about Stanford’s counter-press until Abby’s head swam, notebook covered in squiggles and drawings of everything she saw on the projector.

She sat out on the balcony with Sam before the game, passing a protein bar back and forth. They could see the stadium from their room- several people stalking across the field to carry out a pitch inspection. Abby almost felt like she was waiting for her own execution- muscles primed to react the second that there was a knock on their door and the call to leave.

The noise of the Stanford supporters penetrated their locker room when they arrived. Abby shoved her shinpads down her socks and waited for Coach Snow to start speaking, fingers rubbing at the hem of her shorts.

They queued up in the tunnel, the officials checking their jerseys and cleats one by one. Chelsea squeezed her shoulder, and Abby was hit by the startling realization that Chelsea would never play for UCLA again if they lost.

Then the line started walking towards the light, and Abby had no choice but to follow.

At first, there was only nothingness.

Abby felt numb. She couldn’t hear the crowd or the players or even feel the turf beneath her feet. The Stanford players were all crushed together in the middle of the field, an island of cardinal red. She saw Zakiya first- bent over on her knees, forehead against the grass, shoulders shaking. Lucretia was leaning over her, hair falling in front of her face, whispering words of comfort.

There was a tap on Abby’s shoulder and she turned to see the Stanford captain, watched her mouth move as she spoke.

‘What?’ Abby asked, ringing in her ears.

‘Good game.’ The girl repeated, sticking her hand out for Abby to shake. Abby shook it weakly.

‘You too.’ She echoed, ‘Good luck in the next round.’

Abby turned to face the rest of the field. Her teammates were spread out across it, having all collapsed to their knees at the final whistle. Katelyn was sat on the goal line, back resting against the post, staring into nothingness.

Caprice approached tentatively, socks pulled down to her ankles. She handed Abby her bottle and her coat wordlessly.  

Coach Snow came up behind them, giving their shoulders a quick squeeze.

‘You guys okay?’ he asked, and Abby gave him the briefest of nods, ‘Make sure you hydrate, Abby. I want everyone back in the locker room in five minutes.’

He moved on to comfort Chelsea, who had her head buried in the front of her shirt.

‘How did we let them win again?’ Caprice said almost to herself, face stricken. Abby gave her a hug.

The locker room was painfully silent, and Coach Snow didn’t seem to have the heart to say much. He offered a few words of encouragement, which fell on deaf ears, before telling them he’d be waiting on the bus.

Abby hunched over in her chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her head hurt.

‘You okay?’

Abby turned to look at Sam for the first time since the final whistle had blown. Her eyes were blood-shot, and there was a crinkle on her forehead that Abby had never seen before.

There was an unpleasant screeching noise as Sam shuffled her chair towards her own, making Abby wince and look away. She tried to focus on the feeling of the concrete beneath her soles.

Sam’s fingers brushed against her elbow, trailing lightly up her triceps and along her shoulder until they finally pressed against her neck. Abby instantly relaxed into the touch, shifting slightly to allow Sam more access.

Abby’s tears came hot and heavy, and Sam let her cry, fingers rubbing and rubbing until there was nothing left.

The team split off in pairs to return to their rooms as soon as they stepped off the bus, and Abby ached for the feeling of crisp sheets, but as she watched Caprice and Megan trudge off to the elevator, Sam grabbed her hand.

‘Come on.’ Sam said, tugging her away from the reception desk and towards the doors again.

‘Where are we going?’ Abby complained, shooting a longing look back over her shoulders.

‘We need to get out of here.’

‘How the hell are we gonna do that?’ Abby said, dumbfounded, ‘We don’t have a car.’

‘We’ll walk.’ Sam said simply, and Abby knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

They walked down the street, away from the cheers and loud music of the Stanford bar scene. Abby realized a few blocks too late that her flimsy jacket did almost nothing to keep out the cold, and she shivered.

‘Sam, where are we going?’

‘It should be around here somewhere.’ Sam assured her, mysterious as ever. Abby groaned.

At the end of the street Sam turned left and let out a shout of satisfaction.

‘Found it.’ She said, steering Abby into a diner on the corner of a quiet local street.

The diner was small and cramped, and the leather of the chairs and booths were cracked in places, but Abby hardly noticed. She was far too busy staring at the walls, which were covered, head to toe, in soccer memorabilia. There was a huge framed national team jersey, with 11 FOUDY on the back and a scrawled signature. There were photos dating back to the early 80’s of the national team, as well as the team photos of every year’s Stanford roster. Abby’s jaw dropped.

‘How did you know this was here?’ she asked, as Sam sat her down in a booth.

Sam laughed, ‘I didn’t. Not personally at least. But Kristie was here for a game last year and she wanted to watch one of my games which was on TV the next day, but she didn’t know where to watch it. Anyway, she asked around, and someone took her here. She told me about it, and I’ve wanted to come ever since.’

Abby laughed, ‘Well, thank you Kristie.’

The man behind the till came up to take their order, and Sam got them the biggest of everything on the menu.

‘I’m sorry,’ the waiter said, almost apologetically, ‘I heard you mention your sister came here last year?’

‘Yeah,’ Sam answered, eyes shining, ‘Do you remember her?’

The man smiled, ‘Sure I do. You look just like her.’

‘She told me to come here. Said you guys do the best fries she’s ever tasted.’

‘That’s a glowing compliment, ma’am. I’ll be back as soon as I can with your food.’

Sam sat back in her seat, a look of peace descending on her face.

‘No better way of making yourself feel better than by eating, right?’

Abby raised her eyebrows, ‘We aren’t playing again this season either, so technically we can eat whatever we want.’

‘Atta girl.’ Sam said, leaning forward to pluck a napkin out of the dispenser. She opened it up and spread it flat on the table, before pulling a pen out of her pocket, ‘I was thinking,’ she continued seriously, ‘That we need to plan the kind of stuff that we’re gonna have in our apartment next year.’

‘A gym.’ Abby said promptly, as a joke, but Sam wrote ‘a gym’ down on the napkin and drew a checkbox next to it.

‘Towels.’ She said, adding it to the list.

‘Plants.’

‘A sound system.’

‘A cutlery set.’

‘Scented candles.’

They kept going, listing out as much as they could until Sam had covered one whole side of the napkin.

‘Next,’ Sam said, like she was a game show host, ‘We need to draw out our floor plan.’

She flipped the napkin over and sketched out a blue square.

‘Here you go ladies.’ The waiter interrupted, carrying two large baskets of food in both hands. Sam quickly pushed aside the napkin to make room for her meal, grand ideas for the floor plan forgotten. Abby took a ceremonious bite of her burger and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

‘I’d almost forgotten what junk food tasted like.’ Sam almost moaned, dunking her fry in her milkshake.

‘I don’t think I can go on a diet ever again.’ Abby said through a mouthful of bun.

They were silent for a while, focusing on getting through their meal.

‘So,’ Sam said eventually, setting aside her empty burger wrapper, ‘Tell me about your family. If I’m going to meet them at Thanksgiving, I want some background on who’s who.’

Abby grinned, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her own napkin to get rid of the grease.

‘My extended family are coming up from San Diego this time, so you’ll get the full Dahlkemper experience.’

‘Perfect,’ Sam said, ‘I’ll try not to hurl in any rose bushes.’

Abby laughed. She could never help it around Sam.

They’d played the Stanford Cardinals away and lost, but sitting in a booth with Sam sharing stories suddenly felt a lot more important than soccer.