Order. Christen Press loved order. Planning and controlling down to the minute helped her sleep at night. It was obsessive and compulsive, but that was just who she was. She loved feeling in control of her life and feeling as though she held the power. But life doesn’t work that way. Life never goes according to plan, so she shouldn’t have expected it to.
She shouldn’t have expected that her life went how she wanted it to. She shouldn’t have expected that her days always followed the plan she mapped out every morning in her beloved planner. But she did. And that was her mistake.
In hindsight, she really shouldn’t have put so much personal importance in that little book because it’s the reason everything changed.
The team had been at camp for a few days, having reunited for a another victory tour game in San Antonio. As always, Christen mapped out her day in her beloved planner.
8:00 AM - Wake Up
Meditate
9:00 AM - Breakfast
10:00 AM - Training/Recovery
11:00 AM -
12:00 PM - Treatment
1:00 PM - Lunch
2:00 PM - Meeting
3:00 PM - Meditate
4:00 PM - Yoga
5:00 PM -
6:00 PM - Team Dinner
7:00 PM -
8:00 PM - Read/relax
The self proclaimed control freak closed the small booklet feeling satisfied with her plan and placed it on the desk in the corner of the room. The routine was familiar and comforting, feelings she relished due to her crazy and erratic lifestyle on the road. Outlining her day and then being able to go back and check everything off gave her a sense of accomplishment. It was the one thing she could always count on.
After meditating and taking a shower, she proceeded with her day by heading down to the dining room. She took a seat next to Cheney and went about her day, just like any other. Having memorized what she wrote down in the morning, Christen followed it step by step without having to check the book.
Clad in her pajamas, Christen waddled over to the desk to get her planner to check off everything she did. But when she grabbed at empty space where her leather bound book should have been, she felt her heart begin to accelerate. She left it on the desk this morning, of that she was sure, but low and behold, it was no longer there. On the verge of a panic attack, Christen began rustling around the various items on the desk to see if her planner was beneath anything. She tossed bags of newly purchased clothing, worn jackets, and anything covering the surface of the desk. With each minute that Christen couldn’t find her planner, she became increasingly frantic. The noise she was making as she moved from the desk to other parts of the room searching for her planner was enough to wake her roommate, Whitney.
“Woah, Presi! Calm down! What are you doing?” the blonde asked as she watched her friend toss their room apart.
“I can’t find my planner, I left it on the desk this morning and now it’s gone. Did you move it? Oh my gosh, what if housekeeping took it? My planner is my entire life! I don’t know what to do without it!” Christen was a jumbled mess, her words coming out fast as she continued to freak out. Whitney, used to her friend’s tendency to freak out, decided to try and calm her down by helping.
“Okay, deep breaths Christen. In. Out. In. Out. I didn’t touch it, but I’m sure it’s here somewhere. It’s getting late and we have an early wake up for the game tomorrow. Why don’t you try and go to sleep and maybe it’ll turn up in the morning,” she reasoned with the distraught striker.
“But you know I can’t live without my planner, Whit! How am I gonna sleep if I’m worried about it?” the brunette cried in frustration.
“Chris, you’ve already torn the room apart and it’s not here, so just get some rest okay? We can ask the rest of the team and the hotel staff if they’ve seen it in the morning. There’s no use for it now anyway. You can just write your plan down on the notepad on the bedside table tomorrow.”
Distressed, Christen reluctantly agrees to do as her friend suggests. Crawling into bed slowly, she tries to let sleep overcome her after Whitney turns out the lights. Her attempts at falling asleep are in vain as she tosses and turns, unable to keep her mind off her missing planner.
Christen never quite falls asleep, stuck in the worryings of her mind as she slips in and out of consciousness. So when the sun begins to peek through the thin sliver that is left between the closed curtains of the hotel room, she is completely awake.
Popping out of bed, she quickly showers and changes into a pair of leggings and a team t shirt. Slipping on her Nikes, she leaves the room in pursuit of her own personal holy book. She decides to check with the front desk first. After finding out that housekeeping did not mistakenly take her planner, Christen feels her hope start to deflate. Glancing at her watch, she notices it’s not even 6:30, which means none of her teammates are up and she can’t question them it unless she wants to be Julius Caesar 2.0.
Huffing a sigh of exasperation, Christen decides to find a cup of coffee to help energize her for the day considering she didn’t get much sleep. When she opens the door to the team dining room, she expects it to be empty of people and food.
She’s thankful to be wrong about both assumptions. The smell of coffee and breakfast assults her nostrils and she breathes it in happily. The smile it brings to her face only brightens when she sees who the lone other person in the room is. The other person gives her a smile in return and Press quickly goes to get a cup of Joe and fill her plate before going to sit right next to her teammate.
“Morning Presi,” Tobin greets her, happy to have some company this early in the morning. She’s usually the first one up, considering she’s the only morning person on the team. Tobin’s always marched to the beat of her own drum and doesn’t mind the quiet mornings as she waits for everyone else to join her, but she is pleasantly surprised to see Christen.
“Good morning!” Christen replies. Tobin is taken aback by the enthusiastic tone in her voice. It’s not something she’s used to because Christen tends to be a little grumpy in the mornings.
“Wow, the superstar Christen Press is happy and awake before 7 AM and she hasn’t even taken a sip of her coffee yet? Should I check outside to see if pigs are flying?” Christen laughs at Tobin’s teasing and gives her a slight nudge on the arm and rolling her eyes.
“Haha, very funny. I am perfectly capable of functioning properly in the mornings, thank you very much. I’m not even that bad in the mornings!” She tries to defend herself even though she knows it’s a blatant lie. Tobin raises her eyebrows and scoffs. “Okay, so maybe I am, but I’m not as bad some of the other girls!” To this Tobin agrees and lets it go.
Interacting with Tobin is easy and free. Christen is content and almost forgets about her planner. Almost. It’s brought back to the forefront of her mind when Tobin asks why she’s up so early.
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she says vaguely.
“Okay, so what’s got you worried?” Tobin prods, knowing Christen’s tendency to worry and freak out is the only reason she could have been kept up last night.
“I can’t find my planner. I’ve been freaking out all night. So I just got up because it was easier than worrying about it,” Christen tells her. “I’m kind of lost without it. I don’t really know what to do. I hate not having control.”
It’s ironic that Christen, the most obsessive compulsive person on the team, is hoping that Tobin, the most free-spirited, go-with-the-flow person on the team, will understand how miserable she is without her planner. But Tobin’s always been one to take pity and help others out, so she gets up and walks over to the table, looking for something.
Press watches her, confused, until she comes back with a clean napkin and a pen. Tobin begins writing down times starting with 7:00 AM and ending with 9:00 PM. Once she’s written down the times, she looks up at Christen, “Okay what are you doing at 7?”
“Um I guess staying in here while the rest of the team eats breakfast since Jill will probably wanna talk to us?” It sounds more a question than a statement but Tobin writes down Team breakfast/meeting in the 7 AM time slot.
“Alright, what about 8?”
“Meditation.”
“9?”
“Film session.”
“10?”
“Go out for a bit, maybe shop until 12.”
“Okay, then lunch is at 12, right?” Christen nods in confirmation. “What about 1?”
“Get ready to go to the stadium for the game.”
“2 o’clock?”
“Leave for the stadium.”
“3?”
“Warm Up for the game.”
“And the game is at 5, so let’s skip to 7,” Tobin fills in a couple hours for her.
“Come back to freshen up for dinner.”
“8?”
“We’ll have a team and family dinner and if we win we’ll probably go out to celebrate. Kelley said she wants to go to a bar that someone recommended to her.”
Tobin writes it down and then skips a few lines before adding 11 PM.
“And 11 is bedtime,” Tobin concludes, putting the pen down once she finished writing. “I wouldn’t count on that one being too rigid though, knowing our team we might have to push that back a few hours.”
Press laughs because she knows it’s true. She doesn’t really mind letting that one go though. She loves her teammates and knows that with all the changes coming to the team, they all need it. So many of her friends were retiring soon and new, younger players would be taking their spots. It was something all of the girls were trying to deal with and they wanted to spend as much time together as possible before the ones retiring went their separate ways.
“Dawn won’t like it. You know she likes us in bed by curfew.”
The older woman shrugs nonchalantly, “Eh, we’ve already won the World Cup and this a victory tour. We’re allowed to celebrate. Plus, she knows we need this.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Tobin picks up the napkin and hands it to Press, so their focus moves back to the matter at hand, “See, you don’t need a planner, this is just as good.”
Christen can’t help but smile. It’s sweet of Tobin to help her out and having her day written out on something, even a flimsy napkin, makes her feel better. Something about her day being written down makes it more concrete and Christen loves it.
“Thank you, Toby.” There’s a genuine smile on Press’ face that causes a reciprocating one from the midfielder. “Seriously, this makes me feel a little better. I’d probably be a mess today without this napkin.”
“No problem, but we’re gonna have to wean you off this planning habit. I don’t know how you can live life relying on a schedule,” Tobin replies.
“I know it’s kind of sad, but I can’t help it. It makes me feel good and productive. I don’t know, I just really need it. I really hope I can find it soon. I have some really important dates and reminders in there and I don’t want to have to buy another one.”
Tobin sighs, seeing how uneasy the younger girl is. “I’ll tell you what, if you don’t find your planner, I’ll keep helping you write everything down until you do. But I want you to let things happen more naturally and be spontaneous.”
Biting her lip in hesitation, Christen slowly thinks about the offer. She’s worried about giving up control and losing the familiar comfort of having her planner, but it’s outweighed by her desire to spend more time with Tobin. She agrees against her better judgement, telling herself that she’s doing it to broaden her horizons and not because the prospect of hanging out with Tobin makes her heart beat a little faster than normal. Yeah, she’s totally just doing this because Tobin’s free-spiritedness is probably contagious and will rub off on her enough that she’ll be able to live life without her planner. Well, that’s what she chooses to believe anyway.
“I may never be okay with being a homeless nomad like you, but I guess trying to live more freely won’t hurt, so I’m game.”
“Cool! Then we can meet in the mornings just like this.”
“Wait, does this mean I have to get up early every morning?”
“Well yeah…” Christen goans, but doesn’t argue much because as much as she tries to deny it, she really wants to spend more time with the tan midfielder.
“Fine, so same time tomorrow morning then?”
“Yup!”
At the end of the day, Christen pulls the folded napkin out from the place she hid it underneath her clothes. She’d already lost her planner, she didn’t need housekeeping to mistake the only thing that kept her sane for trash. Sitting down in her bed and grabbing the pen on the bedside table, she makes little checkmarks next to each task listed in Tobin’s messy scrawl. Once she checks off the last one, she releases a satisfied sigh.
Staring at the napkin, she memorizes the kid-like handwriting that is so…Tobin. Not wanting to lose it, she quickly gets up to stash it somewhere safe. Exhausted from the game and the late night party the girls had, she finally settles into bed. Tobin was right about the celebration, it did last longer than what the makeshift day planner had predicted.
She groans as she realizes the time and almost regrets agreeing to meet Tobin so early in the morning. After setting her alarm, she switches off the lamp, knowing Whitney is already fast asleep in her own bed. It isn’t long before she’s in a dreamless sleep, her fatigue from her lack of rest the previous night, the game, and the long night overtaking her body. She has two thoughts before she’s out cold. One, she’s glad she didn’t drink enough to be hungover in the morning. And two, she can’t wait to spend more time with Tobin.
Her thoughts aren’t as pleasant the next morning at six when her alarm wakes her up. She makes a sound of anguish and buries her head under her pillow in hopes that the sound will magically stop. It doesn’t and it wakes up her roommate, who is not happy at all by the ungodly sound.
“What the hell Christen? Turn it off!” The blonde is cranky and just wants to continue to try and sleep off her mild hangover. Christen bites her lip to keep from laughing at her friend’s misery. She quickly apologizes and turns off the alarm before getting out of bed and freshening up. As per usual, she meditates for 15 minutes to clear her mind and start her day off right. After she changes, she grabs her phone and room key and heads downstairs to the meal room.
The hotel lobby is eerily quiet and empty, but Christen doesn’t really mind the serenity of it. She takes her time walking to allow herself time to truly wake up.
She opens the door to the dining room with a smile, expecting to see Tobin. It fades when she comes face to face with an empty room. Her shoulders slump as she drags her feet over to the coffee machine to get herself a cup. Did she forget? She probably thought it was stupid. Christen hates that Tobin can affect her mood so much but she eventually realizes that Tobin wouldn’t intentionally break a promise.
She’s probably hungover and still sleeping, Christen tries to convince herself. The more she thinks about it, the more it becomes plausible. She remembers watching the midfielder knock down a few more drinks than she should have the night before. Tobin’s always been kind of a lightweight when it comes to drinking, so Christen assures herself that’s the reason she’s up and ready before the older woman.
Deciding that sitting there waiting and just drinking coffee would be pointless, she gets up and fills a plate with pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruit. As she places it on the table, she goes over to the TV they have set up in the room and turns it on to Sports Center to fill the silence and provide her with a distraction.
She’s caught up in eating and watching the Top 10, that she doesn’t hear the door open behind her and someone slip in. Her fork drops and her grin becomes impossibly wide when she sees that her goal is the #1 play of the night. Christen kind of wishes her teammates were all there to congratulate and celebrate with her, but the pride she feels in the empty room is immense nonetheless.
So she’s startled when she feels someone wrap their arms around her from behind and squeeze, “Congrats Presi! That was a sick goal!” When Christen hears the familiar voice, she relaxes and her megawatt smile returns.
“Thanks! I thought you were too hungover to get up this morning,” Christen laughs as Tobin releases her and sits next to her.
“Nah, I was just walking to someone on the phone,” the way Tobin says it is so nonchalant, but it still makes Christen deflate a bit because she’s pretty sure Tobin’s referring to Shirley. She catches herself and perks back up, hoping that Tobin will be as oblivious as she’s always been. As quick as her heart drops from the comment, it lifts back up when Tobin adds, “And I can handle my liquor, thank you very much!”
Christen just laughs at her and raises her eyebrows in a challenge, “Yeah, sure you can. If by good you mean absolutely awful. Tobs you get tipsy on one beer and by your third drink you are as good as gone.”
“Okay, so maybe I’m not the best drinker, but at least I’m never hungover in the morning. And I’ve never shown up to practice hungover either,” Tobin counters bringing up a memory that Christen would rather forget ever happened.
“Never happening again. Dawn made me do an extra hour of weights and cardio. Do you know how hard it is to do when your head is pounding and you wanna puke?” Christen grimacing at the recollection. “Why do you think I never drink more than 2 whenever the team goes out in the middle of camp?”
Tobin laughs and the topic of Tobin’s girlfriend is all but wiped from Christen’s mind. Tobin gets up to get some breakfast and coffee. When she returns she has multiple napkins as well.
“Kay, you ready?” Tobin asks, pulling out a pen and beginning to write the times down. Christen just nods. “Well since we have an evening practice and most of the girls are still hungover, what do you wanna do at 8?”
“I don’t know, I already meditated, so maybe some yoga? Then recovery at 9 and then training at 10, I need to work on my finishing for a bit.” Tobin puts down her pen and just stares at the younger girl and eventually Christen becomes a bit self conscious.
“What?” she questions uncomfortably.
“Chris, we just won 6-0 and you scored a hat trick, I think you’ve earned the morning off. We’re just gonna leave that part blank and go on an adventure, okay?” The way Tobin says it is so firm and resolute that Christen has no choice but to give in. So she does.
“Good girl, now we have lunch at 12:30 and then practice at 2 and dinner at 6. So that gives us about two hours of free time between the end of practice and dinner, we’ll decide later,” Tobin continues, taking control of the schedule. With anyone else, Christen would’ve been annoyed with her lack of control, but she doesn’t care when it’s Tobin. She finds it endearing that Tobin isn’t just helping plan Christen’s day, she’s planning their day.
“Then after dinner, I think Ash said something about a team game night, so that should be wild,” Tobin grins as she writes it down. Christen laughs because she recalls the last time the team had a game night. A group of some of the most competitive women in the world playing charades and pictionary was truly something to behold.
Tobin skips to the very bottom of the paper, where there’s no time and just writes two words. Bed Time. Then she drops the pen and hands Christen the ink filled napkin. As Christen looks at the empty spaces in the morning and the lack of structure on the napkin she almost has a panic attack. But she realizes this is what Tobin wants, so she pushes the feeling down and tries to relax.
Once both are done with their breakfast and they’ve grown bored of waiting for the rest of their teammates to wake up, the pair decide to start their day. Christen’s not sure what they’re doing and she suspects Tobin doesn’t either, but she can’t bring herself to care too much because she gets to spend her entire day with the older woman. So they leave the hotel, Tobin leading the way and Christen trusts her completely.
They end up at a paint studio in downtown San Antonio. It’s pretty empty because it’s a Thursday morning and most people are at work. Tobin pays for their supplies and both grab a stool in front of an easel. Tobin immediately starts mixing colors and putting them onto her canvas. Christen, on the other hand, is unsure of what to do and completely uninspired. The two women are sitting opposite from each other, so Christen can’t see what Tobin is doing.
Tobin is so enthralled with her artwork and her tongue is slightly sticking out of her mouth, that she doesn’t even notice Christen staring at her instead of painting. When she leans back to inspect whatever she’s painted on her canvas, she tilts her head, trying to figure out what’s missing. In doing so, her view of Christen becomes unobstructed and she makes eye contact.
“Why aren’t you painting?” Tobin questions, frowning.
Christen shrugs, “I don’t know what to paint. What are you painting?”
“I’m not telling you. You have to wait. We’ll reveal our paintings at the same time,” Tobin says.
“But I have no inspiration! Give me an idea,” Christen begs.
“No, that’s instruction and structure. That’s planning. I told you, we’re trying to get you to loosen up. This is a step. You don’t even need to think about it, just throw colors on there. Make it abstract. Just do it. Close your eyes, dip your paintbrush into some paint, and then let your hand move wherever it wants on the canvas,” Tobin instructs.
Christen looks a her, horrified, “I know I said I’d try, but that’s asking a little too much.”
Tobin lets out a little laugh, “Okay, fine. How about this? Close your eyes.”
“Why?” Christen asks skeptically.
“Just do it. Please?”
Christen sighs, but closes her eyes.
“Okay, now I want to picture something that makes you happy. It can be anything. A place, a person, animals, soccer, whatever. Something that makes you smile.”
The first thing that pops into Christen’s mind is Tobin and she can’t help the smile that graces her face. She’s picturing Tobin how she likes the midfielder best: laughing with that carefree attitude that makes her Tobin.
“Okay, now I want you to paint what you just pictured,” Tobin whispers in her ear and it makes Christen jump because she had gotten so lost in her mental picture that she hadn’t noticed Tobin had moved.
Opening her eyes, Christen can feel her cheeks heating up.
“Uh, I’m not exactly sure how. I’m not really a good artist and I can’t do people,” Christen says, keeping her eyes on the canvas because if she looks at Tobin she’ll blush even more.
“Christen! Please just try, for me?” Tobin pulls a card she knows is low because it works on everyone, every single time. No one can resist her puppy dog eyes for long.
“Ugh, I can’t. This is too hard!” Christen growls in frustration. “Just tell me what to paint!”
“No, that would defeat the purpose,” Tobin calmly says. “Here, I’ll help you.”
She stands behind Christen, “Close your eyes.”
Christen does so and when Tobin places her hand on top of her’s, she allows it. She lets Tobin place a paintbrush in her hand and guide it towards the pallette. Christen feels Tobin swirl some colors and then her hand is being moved towards the blank canvas.
She lets Tobin guide her, making lines and random shapes everywhere. There’s no specific picture and she can’t create the image in her mind. It’s incredibly scary, but it’s also exhilarating. The feeling of the unknown is new and foreign, but Christen suspects that having Tobin there makes it less daunting.
Suddenly, Tobin helps Christen put the paintbrush down. She lets go of Christen’s hand, but quickly places one on each of Christen’s shoulders. Leaning forward so her head is right next to Christen’s, she breathes, “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
Christen takes a deep breath to prepare herself for what she’s about to see and to calm down her heart rate that’s beating wildly because of how close Tobin is. She expects to find random shapes in various colors that make no sense, but that’s not the case at all.
There are shapes, but they aren’t random. There are also words, which confuses Christen because she doesn’t remember feeling like she was painting letters, much less words.
Her breath catches as she takes it all in and reads what’s been written. If she was confused about the woman beside her before, she’s completely bewildered now.
What does this mean? This can’t be what I think it is. No.
“See it wasn’t so bad, right?” Tobin questions.
Christen shakes her head.
“So, what do you think?” Her tone is different now, almost nervous, but Christen thinks she may just be making that up.
“It’s...not what I expected,” Christen struggles to find the right words.
“Is that a good thing?” Tobin pushes, trying to gauge her reaction.
“Yeah, I think so,” Christen smiles slightly. She’s still a bit perplexed because she doesn’t know what this means for her or for them.
“Good,” Tobin exhales in relief. She was nervous because she took a risk. She knows this thing between her and Christen has always been there and has been constantly building. It’s something that they tried to ignore, but the pull has gotten too strong for Tobin to brush off any longer. It’s why she had to end things with Shirley. It wasn’t fair to the Costa Rican and if she and Christen were ever going to do anything, she needed to do things the right way.
She spent a while getting herself together. Tobin has spend many nights contemplating if this was really what she wanted. Was it worth it to risk damaging her friendship with Christen? Was it worth the possible team drama if it didn’t work out? Was what she was feeling more than lust? Was it real? Could it work?
She’d made list after list, thinking of all the cons, but each time the pros far outweighed anything negative that came to mind. And every time the answer to all her questions was yes.This was what she wanted and she was ready. She just needed to figure out how to tell Christen.
Tobin knows the younger woman feels it too and she’s tested her suspicions enough to conclude that Christen wants this just as much as she does. The only reason, Tobin suspects, that Christen hasn’t acted is because she thinks Tobin’s still in a relationship and she’s afraid that Tobin won’t feel the same way.
They both stare at the painting, letting it say everything that needs to be said for the time being.
Let go. Trust me. Love me .
Each letter is in a different color and even some of the letters are composed of different colors of paint. There are a few hearts and it’s kind of corny, but it’s also perfect. It gets the point across and it lays everything out on the table.
“Okay,” Christen whispers, still staring at the painting. “I’ll let go. I’ll trust you. I’ll love you. But you have to do the same.”
“I already am,” Tobin remarks, placing a kiss on Christen’s cheek.
Christen turns her head, “Yeah?”
Tobin nods in confirmation, “I have been for a while. And before you ask, I broke up with Shirley almost two months ago. I’ve thought about this a lot. I’m ready, I just need to know if you feel the same.”
“Of course I do!” Christen nearly screams, unable to contain her happiness.
“Good,” Tobin says before she leans in to kiss her. It’s slow and soft. Their lips are tentative and testing. It’s not passionate nor is it hungry, just a simple melodic kiss that neither wants to end.
When it’s over, there is a silent agreement between them. A confirmation of sorts that has been a long time coming. It’s finally happening and they are more than ready.
“Oh, I almost forgot! You have to sign your painting,” Tobin says, nodding towards the canvas. “Because all artist sign their pieces and it’s means you’ll agree to what’s on there.”
Christen picks up the paintbrush and signs her name on one side, then hands the brush to Tobin, “You have to sign too because we did it together. We’re in it together .”
Tobin takes the brush and adds her own signature, completing the painting and agreement. Now it’s official in more ways than one. Putting the paintbrush down, Tobin places another kiss on Christen’s lips.
When they pull away, Christen says, “You still have to show me what you painted.”
“Right, c’mon,” Tobin grabs her hand and leads her toward the canvas. “I call it, ‘Ball.’”
Christen couldn’t help but burst into laughter at what she saw. True to the title, Tobin had literally painted a soccer ball on a grass field in front of a goal.
“Nice, very...you,” Christen smirks, turning to face her counterpart.
“Thanks? Was that a compliment or a slight dig?” Tobin glares mockingly.
“A little bit of both,” Christen chuckles.
“Wow. We haven’t even been dating five minutes and you’re already wounding my ego. Don’t we need to be married for that?” Tobin questions jokingly.
Christen bites her lip and she can feel the blush rising on her cheeks. The fact that Tobin confirms that they’re dating makes her stomach feel tingly and she hopes that the marriage reference holds some weight.
“It’s never too early to start,” Christen replies with a smile.
“I guess not,” Tobin mumbles, but it gets muffled when their lips meet.
“Oh, by the way, remind me to give you back your planner later,” Tobin casually says when the kiss ends.
Christen’s jaw drops, “YOU TOOK IT! All this time I’ve been freaking out and you had my planner the whole time? Why?!”
“Well, I mean I kind of needed a way to get to where we are right now,” Tobin shrugs.
“Oh my God, you planned all this?” Christen’s eyes widen in surprise and flattery.
“It’s kind of ironic isn’t it? The anti-planner made a plan that involves stealing the planner of the most structured person she knows. It worked though,” Tobin smiles.
“Aww, you’re such a romantic!” Christen coos and it’s Tobin’s turn to turn a rosy color. It’s barely noticeable because of her tan complexion, but Christen’s close enough to see it.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it get around. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
“How’d you know I’d be up early though?”
“I didn’t. I was banking on the fact that you’d be a mess and I could swoop in and be your knight and shining armor,” Tobin smirks.
Christen laughs, “You’re ridiculous, but it’s cute that you did all that for me. It wasn’t so bad having to stick to a plan, was it?”
“It was terrible. I don’t know how you can handle that,” Tobin shakes her head, shivering as though she can’t bear the thought.
“Hey, if you’re going to make me lessen my planning, you’re going to have to adopt some structure in your life. We need to compromise,” Christen argues.
“Fine. How about this, we can have a set place or thing to do, but we’ll also take whatever life gives us,” Tobin negotiates.
“I think I can deal with that,” Christen smiles.
And she can because this was better than anything she could have planned.