Chapter 2
It had been days.
And nothing had changed.
Beth had thought—hoped—that maybe Viv just needed time. That after a few days, after the initial anger had settled, things would start to ease. That maybe she would get a look, a nod, some small sign that Viv was at least willing to acknowledge her existence.
But she got nothing.
Viv had made it painfully clear—she was done with Beth.
She avoided her at training, kept conversations strictly football-related when necessary, and if Beth happened to be in the same room, Viv found somewhere else to be. Even during team meetings, she sat on the opposite side of the room, eyes fixed on the screen, never once looking in Beth’s direction.
It was brutal.
And Beth felt awful.
She had never known what it was like to have Viv completely shut her out, and now that she did, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it. The silence was unbearable, the distance even worse.
And then, of course, media day happened.
A full day of press, photos, and interviews—a long, exhausting day made infinitely worse by the fact that she and Viv had somehow been paired for nearly every single segment.
Beth wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or just bad luck, but it was torture either way.
The tension between them was impossible to ignore.
Every time they had to sit next to each other, the space between them felt like a canyon. Every time they had to pose for pictures, Beth could feel Viv stiffen beside her, keeping her distance, making sure there was no unnecessary contact.
And then came the worst part.
“Can we get you two a little closer?” the photographer asked, adjusting their lens.
Beth shifted slightly, moving in, leaving just enough space for Viv to follow.
Viv didn’t.
Beth glanced at her, but Viv’s expression was unreadable, her lips pressed into a tight line. After a pause, she sighed almost inaudibly and stepped closer, just enough to get the shot, but not a centimeter more.
The photographer frowned. “A bit more, if you don’t mind. Just—”
“That’s fine,” Viv cut in, voice clipped. “We’re good like this.”
The photographer hesitated, but after a moment, nodded. “Right. Okay.”
Beth swallowed, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She didn’t miss the way some of their teammates exchanged glances nearby, clearly noticing the tension.
And then there were the interviews.
Beth had known this was coming. The second the media schedule had been posted, she had seen Viv’s name paired with hers in almost every segment, like some cruel joke the universe was playing on her.
She had spent days trying to get Viv to acknowledge her in any way, to just look at her, but nothing had worked. Viv had made it painstakingly clear—Beth was nothing to her now.
And now they were sitting side by side, cameras pointed at them, forced to pretend like everything was fine.
Beth felt like she was suffocating.
Viv sat stiffly beside her, her body angled slightly away, as if even sitting close to Beth was unbearable. The space between them was noticeable—too noticeable, and Beth wondered if anyone watching would pick up on it.
The interviewer, blissfully unaware of the unbearable tension, beamed at them.
“All right, let’s start with something fun! Describe each other in one word.”
Beth forced her shoulders to stay relaxed, keeping her voice steady. “Determined.”
She felt Viv tense slightly beside her but got no reaction, no acknowledgment. Just silence.
The interviewer turned to Viv, still smiling. “And for Beth?”
A pause.
A second too long.
Beth exhaled slowly, trying to prepare herself.
Viv finally spoke, her voice even, measured. “Persistent.”
Beth’s stomach clenched.
The interviewer chuckled. “Persistent? Interesting choice. Can you elaborate?”
Viv tilted her head slightly, eyes locked on the camera instead of Beth. “She knows how to get what she wants.”
Beth’s breath hitched.
It wasn’t even the words themselves. It was the way Viv said them—cold, detached, like she had studied Beth long enough to know exactly where to land a hit.
Beth forced out a small chuckle, pretending it didn’t sting. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Viv’s lips barely twitched. “Take it however you want.”
The interviewer, completely missing the weight of what had just passed between them, smiled. “All right, next question—what would you say is each other’s best quality on the pitch?”
Beth swallowed, trying to shake off the heaviness pressing against her chest. “Viv’s composure,” she said easily. “She’s calm under pressure. No matter the situation, she always makes the right decision.”
Viv gave the smallest nod, but it felt like a formality.
The interviewer turned to her. “And Beth?”
Another pause.
Beth braced herself again.
Then, finally, Viv said, “Her finishing.”
Beth blinked, caught slightly off guard.
Viv shrugged. “She’s clinical. Give her half a chance, and she makes it count.”
It was the first thing Viv had said all day that didn’t feel laced with something else.
The interviewer chuckled. “Sounds like a dream to play with.”
Beth huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, when she actually passes to me.”
Viv arched an eyebrow, finally—finally—glancing at her. “I pass to you.”
Beth held her gaze, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Not as much as you should.”
There was a flicker of something in Viv’s expression. Annoyance? Amusement? Beth wasn’t sure.
The interviewer grinned. “We love some friendly teammate banter. Let’s make it harder—what’s each other’s best quality off the pitch?”
Beth hesitated.
She could feel Viv bracing beside her, expecting whatever she was about to say.
She thought about being honest.
About saying that Viv was one of the most thoughtful people she had ever met. That she noticed things others didn’t. That she made Beth feel safe, in a way she hadn’t realized she even needed.
But she couldn’t say any of that.
So she swallowed and said, “She’s honest.”
Viv let out a quiet breath—barely a scoff, but Beth caught it.
Her stomach twisted.
The interviewer, still oblivious, turned to Viv. “And for Beth?”
There was another pause.
Then Viv exhaled slowly. “She’s good with people.”
Beth frowned slightly. “Good with people?”
Viv’s fingers tapped lightly against her knee, her voice deceptively casual. “You know how to make people like you.”
Beth’s chest tightened.
The interviewer chuckled. “That’s a skill in itself.”
Beth forced a small smile, but her hands curled into her lap.
She didn’t look at Viv.
Didn’t let her see just how much that one had stung.
The interviewer smiled, glancing between them. “Alright, last one. What’s something you admire about each other?”
Beth barely held back a sigh.
Fantastic.
Of course, they’d end the interview like this.
She rolled her shoulders back, forcing herself to look unfazed, but she could feel the weight of the question settling between them, thick and suffocating.
Her first instinct was to brush it off with something easy, something neutral. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, keeping her voice casual.
“She’s annoyingly good at everything,” Beth said, offering a small smirk. “One of those people who barely has to try, and it still looks effortless. The rest of us have to put in the work, but Viv? Makes everything look like it’s the simplest thing in the world.”
The interviewer laughed, nodding. “She definitely does.”
Viv, however, didn’t react. She stayed perfectly still, her expression unreadable, like she was willing this moment to pass as quickly as possible.
Beth’s smirk faded slightly.
Then the interviewer turned to Viv. “And you?”
A small pause.
Viv exhaled through her nose, shifting slightly in her seat. Beth saw the way her fingers flexed against her knee, like she was debating whether to engage at all.
For a moment, Beth thought she wasn’t going to answer.
Viv exhaled, shifting slightly in her seat. She looked down for a moment, like she was debating her words, then finally said, “She makes things seem… easy.”
Beth frowned slightly, caught off guard.
Viv wasn’t looking at her. She was focused on her hands, tracing an idle pattern over her knee. “Even when they’re not. Even when everything is falling apart, she just… carries on. Keeps moving, keeps making people laugh, like things don’t get to her.” She paused, inhaling through her nose before adding, “Like nothing can really break her.”
Beth swallowed, unsure of what to say to that.
Viv let out a breath, finally glancing at the interviewer. “It’s frustrating, sometimes.” Her lips twitched, but there was something almost distant in her expression. “But it’s also why people—why we—” she hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing, “—trust her to keep going, no matter what.”
Beth’s stomach twisted.
The interviewer beamed. “That’s a really great quality to have in a teammate.”
Beth expected Viv to let it end there. But then, after a beat, Viv added, quieter this time, “And she makes things… lighter.”
Beth’s lips parted slightly, but she had no idea what to say to that.
Viv must have realized she’d said enough because she exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. “And she’s good at football.” she tacked on, forcing a small smirk, like she needed to take the weight out of her own words.
Beth barely caught the way Viv’s fingers curled slightly against her knee, like she had said more than she meant to.
The interviewer laughed. “I mean, that does help.”
Beth was still staring at Viv, something unreadable in her expression.
As soon as the interviewer stood up and walked away, Beth let out a slow breath, turning slightly toward Viv.
“I didn’t think you’d say something that nice,” she admitted, voice quieter than before.
Viv barely looked at her. She reached for her water bottle, twisting the cap off with a deliberate slowness, as if considering whether to respond at all. Then, finally, she murmured, “I thought you liked that I’m honest.”
Beth’s fingers curled slightly against her thigh.
She could still feel the weight of Viv’s words from earlier, the way they had caught her off guard—like a reminder of something Beth hadn’t even realized she needed to hear.
“I do,” Beth said after a beat.
Viv hummed, taking a slow sip of water, her gaze fixed somewhere ahead.
Beth hesitated, then leaned in slightly. “Can we talk?”
Viv didn’t react right away.
Beth sighed, lowering her voice. “I know you’re mad at me. I know I—” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “But I can’t stand this, Viv. You don’t look at me, you don’t talk to me, you won’t even stand near me if you can help it. I feel like I don’t even exist to you anymore, and it’s—” She stopped, voice tight. “It’m hurting.”
For the first time, Viv turned her head to actually look at Beth. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was sharp, cutting straight through Beth’s chest.
“Oh, it’s hurting you?” Viv asked, arching an eyebrow. “That must be awful.”
Beth flinched slightly.
Viv didn’t stop. “It’s really bad, isn’t it? When someone you care about decides your feelings don’t matter?”
Beth swallowed hard, nodding. “I deserve that. I know I do.” Her voice was steady, even as her chest ached. “And I’m so sorry, Viv. I—”
Viv’s jaw clenched, like she was about to cut her off, like she had more to say, but before she could, another interviewer approached the table, all smiles, oblivious to the tension.
Beth and Viv both tensed instantly, snapping back into their carefully constructed masks, pretending everything was fine.
“Ladies! So excited to chat with you two. Ready for the next one?”
Beth was already exhausted from the endless interviews, but the moment the next reporter sat down, she felt a new kind of irritation settle in.
She was young, charming, and way too focused on Viv.
Beth noticed it instantly—the way she smiled at Viv just a little too warmly, the way she laughed at things that weren’t even funny, the way her eyes flickered toward Viv’s hands whenever she moved them.
And the worst part?
Viv wasn’t brushing it off like she usually would.
She wasn’t flirting back—not exactly—but she was being way too engaged.
And Beth could not deal with it.
“So, Viv,” the reporter started, her smile bright. “You always seem so composed under pressure. Is that natural, or do you have some kind of pre-game ritual to get in the zone?”
Viv tilted her head slightly, considering. “I just try to stay focused on what I need to do. I don’t really have any rituals.”
Beth bit the inside of her cheek.
The reporter leaned in slightly, resting her elbow on the table. “That’s impressive. A lot of players need something to ground them, but you seem naturally unfazed.”
Viv exhaled softly. “I just don’t see the point in stressing over things I can’t control.”
Beth clenched her jaw. Right.
The reporter smiled, clearly pleased with the answer. “It must be reassuring for your teammates to have someone as steady as you on the pitch.”
Beth had to say something.
“Oh yeah,” she cut in, smirking slightly. “Viv’s like a brick wall. Unmovable.”
Viv shot her a look. “I’m not unbothered.”
Beth raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
The reporter laughed, clearly entertained. “Seems like you two know each other well.”
Beth forced a tight-lipped smile, but before she could respond, the next question landed like a grenade.
“So, Viv,” the reporter said, eyes flickering over her, “what kind of things actually do get to you? What impresses you?”
Beth immediately stiffened.
It was subtle—so subtle that if she hadn’t been paying attention, she would’ve missed it—but the way the reporter asked the question felt like something more.
Beth glanced at Viv, half-expecting her to dodge it, but instead, Viv simply exhaled, eyes thoughtful.
“Effort,” she said.
The reporter hummed in approval. “I love that answer.”
Beth hated it.
The conversation moved on, but Beth was barely listening, her mind clouded with an irritation she could not shake.
As Beth and Viv sat in tense silence, the air between them thick with unresolved words, another reporter approached the table with an easy smile, oblivious to the storm that had just been brewing.
“Hi! So sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, sliding into the chair across from them. “I’m Emma, with Football Focus. You guys ready to get started?”
Beth forced a smile, nodding stiffly. Viv barely reacted, just offering a polite, clipped nod.
“Great,” Emma said, flipping open her notebook. “First off, I just have to say—both of you were incredible last season. Watching you two link up on the pitch is like watching magic happen. Do you ever just know what the other is thinking?”
Beth inhaled sharply, feeling the weight of the question settle in her chest.
Viv hummed, glancing at the reporter. “We’ve played together for years. You learn to read each other’s movement naturally.”
Beth swallowed, her jaw clenching slightly. That was the most Viv had acknowledged her all day, and it was only because she was being forced to.
Emma nodded, clearly intrigued.
Beth pressed her lips together, suddenly feeling very done with this interview.
“Speaking of playing together,” Emma continued, shifting slightly toward Viv now, “I’ve always wondered—what’s your secret? You make scoring look so easy. Any tips for someone who definitely lacks that level of grace?”
She laughed lightly, her tone playful, and Beth nearly rolled her eyes.
Viv gave a small smile, tilting her head. “I don’t know if there’s a secret. Just a lot of training, a lot of practice.”
Emma hummed, eyes still on Viv. “I guess I’ll have to get some private training sessions then.”
Beth felt her jaw tighten.
She wasn’t sure if Viv noticed, wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if she was actually enjoying this conversation. She wasn’t exactly flirting, but she also wasn’t shutting it down. And that—that was enough to make Beth want to walk away from this entire situation.
Emma continued, her voice still light, still directed mainly at Viv. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do one of these interviews solo. You’re always paired up. Maybe one day I’ll get to do a one-on-one with you.”
Beth really didn’t like that.
As the interview dragged on, Beth barely spoke. She answered when necessary, nodding along, forcing polite smiles when expected, but mostly, she sat in silence, watching.
Watching as Emma directed most of her attention toward Viv. Watching as Viv, though not exactly flirting, was engaging just enough—just enough to make Beth’s stomach twist.
It wasn’t even that Viv was encouraging it, not really. She was just… not shutting it down. And that was worse. Because Beth didn’t know if that meant Viv liked the attention, or if she just didn’t care enough to push back.
She clenched her jaw, fingers tapping against her knee beneath the table, counting the seconds until it was over.
And finally, after what felt like an eternity, Emma closed her notebook with a bright smile. “Well, that’s all from me. Thank you both so much for your time.”
Beth barely waited for the reporter to walk away before she pushed back her chair, standing abruptly.
“You should ask her for her number,” she muttered, looking at Viv now.
Viv, still seated, blinked up at her. “What?”
Beth exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You seemed to be getting on well. Thought I’d help move things along.”
Viv scoffed, crossing her arms. “I was just being polite.”
Beth let out a humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. “Right. Of course. Just polite.”
Viv’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What the hell is your problem?”
Beth exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t have a problem. I just—” She hesitated, running a hand through her hair before looking at Viv again. “I understand, okay? I fucked up. I know I did. And if you hate me for it, I get it. I just…” Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to keep going. “I don’t know how to fix it if you won’t even talk to me.”
Viv cut her off before she could spiral further. “I don’t hate you.”
Beth stilled. Her breath caught slightly as she searched Viv’s face, like she needed to see the truth in her eyes. “You don’t?” she asked, voice quieter now, almost disbelieving.
Viv let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “No. I told you—I would have never been with you if I didn’t feel something for you.”
Beth swallowed hard. “Then why does it feel like you do?”
Viv hesitated, looking away for a second before meeting Beth’s eyes again. “Because I’m hurt. And I’m disappointed,” she admitted, her voice steady but edged with something raw. “But hate? No. I could never hate you.”
Beth’s chest tightened, the weight of Viv’s words settling heavily between them.
She wanted to say something—needed to—but before she could, a member of the media staff appeared, clipboard in hand. “Alright, ladies! We need you over here for the next segment.”
Beth turned to Viv, heart pounding, desperate to hold onto this moment for just a second longer. But Viv was already standing, already moving away, nodding at the staffer.
Beth didn’t think.
She just grabbed her keys, got in her car, and drove.
She had spent the last few days stuck in the same unbearable loop—regret, frustration, guilt. A constant weight pressing on her chest. She was tired of it. Tired of the silence. Tired of feeling like she was losing Viv for good.
And maybe she already had.
But she had to try.
By the time she pulled up in front of Viv’s house, her hands were tight on the steering wheel, her stomach twisting. The worst part was, she didn’t even know what she was going to say.
But she couldn’t keep waiting.
She got out of the car, walked up to the door before she could talk herself out of it, and knocked.
Seconds passed.
Then the door opened, and suddenly, there Viv was—standing in front of her, barefoot, in sweatpants and an old hoodie, looking thrown off but not entirely surprised.
Beth swallowed.
“What are you doing here?” Viv asked, crossing her arms.
Beth didn’t answer. She just stepped inside.
Viv let out an exasperated sigh, shutting the door behind her. “Yeah, sure, come right in, no problem,” she muttered.
Beth ignored her sarcasm.
“I’m not leaving until we talk.”
Viv sighed again, rubbing her temple. “Beth.”
“I’m serious,” Beth cut in. “You can either push me out or call the police, but I’m not leaving otherwise.”
Viv exhaled sharply, her jaw clenching. Beth could see the conflict in her eyes—the urge to tell her to get out warring with something else.
After a beat, Viv groaned, pressing her fingers into her temples. “Well, I can’t call the police, can I?”
Beth smirked, just a little. “Exactly. So you might as well listen to me.”
Viv let out a humorless huff, turning away from her and walking into the living room. “Fine. You’ve got two minutes.”
Beth followed, watching as Viv leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed, looking at her like she was already bracing herself for whatever she had to say.
Beth took a steadying breath. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Viv arched a brow, unimpressed. “That’s a great start.”
Beth let out a short, dry laugh, shaking her head. “I just—God, Viv, I’m so tired of this. Of you not looking at me, not talking to me, not even standing near me if you can help it. I can’t do it anymore.”
Viv’s expression didn’t change.
Beth exhaled, voice softer now. “I know I hurt you. And I hate that I did that to you. I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me.”
Viv’s arms tightened around herself. She still wouldn’t look at her.
Beth took another step forward. “But I swear to you, that’s not what I wanted. That’s never what I wanted.”
Viv inhaled through her nose, slow and measured. “Beth, it’s not just—”
“I know,” Beth cut in, shaking her head. “I know it’s not just that night. It’s everything. The way I handled it. The way I hurt you after. But I miss you, Viv. I miss you so much, and if there’s even the smallest chance that I can fix this, that I can fix us, then I have to try.”
Silence.
Beth swallowed. “Please. Just… tell me what I can do.”
Viv finally looked at her, something tired and wary in her eyes. “I don’t know if you can fix this, Beth.”
Beth’s chest tightened, but she didn’t back down.
“Then tell me how to try.”
Viv scoffed under her breath, shaking her head. “You think it’s that easy?”
Beth sighed. “No. But I don’t care how hard it is.”
Viv exhaled slowly, looking away. “Beth.”
Beth took another step forward, voice gentler now. “Viv, you told me you’d never be with someone if you didn’t feel something for them.”
Viv stilled.
Beth’s heart pounded. “You said that.”
Viv’s fingers twitched where they were wrapped around her arms, but she didn’t deny it.
“So if that’s true,” Beth continued, voice barely above a whisper, “then please. Just tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
For the first time, Beth saw something flicker in Viv’s eyes—something close to hesitation, like she wanted to believe her, wanted to trust her again.
Beth barely had time to process Viv’s last words before she heard it—soft, hesitant.
“Why did you leave?”
Her head snapped up.
Viv was staring at her now, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, but there was something different in her expression. Something raw.
Beth opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Viv exhaled, shaking her head slightly, as if she didn’t even know why she was asking.
“Did you regret it?” she murmured. Then, after a beat—quieter, almost fragile—“Was I that bad at it?”
Beth’s heart cracked.
Her breath caught in her throat, and suddenly, it felt impossible to speak, impossible to do anything except look at Viv, take in the way she stood there, trying to keep her face neutral, trying to pretend like the question didn’t cost her something to ask.
Beth stepped closer.
“Viv—no,” she said quickly, almost desperately. “God, no. It wasn’t like that.”
Viv’s fingers clenched against her arms, but she didn’t pull away, didn’t say anything.
Beth exhaled shakily.
“I—” she swallowed. “I didn’t leave because of that. I didn’t regret you.”
Viv’s eyes flickered, like she wasn’t sure if she believed that.
Beth took another step forward. “I swear. It was never about that.”
Viv looked down for a second, pressing her lips together. Beth could see the way her throat moved as she swallowed, the way her breath was a little too controlled, like she was trying to keep something in.
Then, barely above a whisper—“Then why?”
Beth inhaled sharply.
She could feel it now—the weight of that night, the moment she made the worst decision she could have made.
And for the first time, she realized she had to say it.
Out loud.
Beth took a deep breath.
“I was scared.”
Viv’s gaze snapped up.
Beth let out a bitter, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I was so fucking scared, Viv.”
Viv didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just watched her.
Beth ran a hand through her hair, exhaling. “I woke up, and everything felt too much. I thought maybe—” she hesitated, voice dropping, “—maybe you’d regret it. Maybe you’d wake up and realize it was a mistake. And I couldn’t handle that.”
Viv’s face didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted—barely.
Beth swallowed hard. “So I left first. Because if I left first, then you couldn’t.”
Silence.
For the first time since she’d stepped into Viv’s house, Beth wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.
The silence between them was unbearable.
Beth watched as Viv’s expression flickered—like she was caught between emotions she didn’t know how to place. She wasn’t looking at her, not fully, but Beth could feel the weight of everything sitting in the space between them.
And then, after what felt like forever, Viv exhaled softly and murmured, “I would never regret it.”
Beth’s stomach twisted, her throat tightening.
Viv’s voice was quiet, but there was something undeniably honest about it. A certainty. It wasn’t meant to make Beth feel better—it was just the truth.
Beth swallowed, unsure what to do with that, how to process it.
So she just spoke. “You were right, you know. What you said the other day.”
Viv’s brows pulled together slightly, her head tilting just the smallest bit. “About what?”
Beth exhaled, letting out a soft, humorless chuckle. “About me not letting people get close. How I push everyone away.”
Viv blinked, lips parting slightly, but before Beth could keep going, she shook her head.
“Beth, no—”
“It’s okay,” Beth cut in gently.
Viv sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was mean.”
Beth smiled—small, sad. “Yeah. But it was true.”
Viv’s eyes met hers now, searching, hesitant.
Beth swallowed again, voice quieter. “That’s why it hurt a bit.”
Viv didn’t say anything right away.
She just stood there, looking at Beth, looking at her, like she was finally seeing her for the first time in days.
“I wasn’t trying to be cruel,” Viv said after a moment, voice softer now. “I was just—” She stopped, exhaling sharply through her nose. “I was angry. And I wanted you to know how much you hurt me.”
Beth nodded slowly. “I know. And you had every right to be.”
Viv glanced down, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Beth hesitated before adding, “I just—I don’t want to be like that with you.”
Viv looked up again, brows furrowing slightly.
“Like what?”
Beth inhaled deeply. “The way I push people away. The way I ruin things before they even have a chance to be something.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to do that with you, Viv. I never did.”
Viv was quiet for a long moment, her arms still crossed over her chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of her hoodie like she was trying to ground herself
Beth felt like she was standing at the edge of something, something that could either break apart completely or—if she was lucky—start to mend. The silence stretched so long between them that it felt suffocating, and she had no idea what to say to fix it.
So she did the only thing she could.
She exhaled shakily and spoke.
“I can go if you want,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll leave right now, and I won’t bother you again. I won’t try to fix things if that’s not what you want. But before I do, I just need you to know—” her throat tightened, but she forced herself to push through it, “I will regret this forever. Not just leaving that morning, but everything I did to make you feel this way. I was selfish. I was a coward. And I hurt you.”
Beth let out a breath, looking at the floor. “And I swear to God, Viv, the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you.”
Still, Viv said nothing.
Beth took that silence for her answer. She nodded slowly, pressing her lips together, willing herself not to break down right here in Viv’s living room.
Then, without another word, she turned toward the door.
She barely made it two steps.
“I felt really embarrassed.”
Beth froze.
Viv’s voice was quiet, but the weight of it, the vulnerability in it, was enough to stop Beth in her tracks.
“Ashamed, even,” Viv continued, her arms tightening over her chest. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie like she was trying to hold herself together. “That morning, when I woke up and you were gone… I just kept thinking about what I must have done wrong. I thought maybe I had been bad at it, that maybe you regretted it because of me. Because I wasn’t good enough, or maybe you didn’t see me as someone worth staying for.”
Beth’s heart cracked, her stomach twisting painfully.
“And then at the airport,” Viv exhaled sharply, shaking her head like she hated even saying it out loud, “you walked up to me, and you were joking, Beth. Like—like none of it mattered. Like I hadn’t spent the entire morning feeling like a fucking idiot, wondering why I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”
Beth felt her breath hitch, her chest aching with something unbearable.
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “I swear, Viv, I wasn’t trying to make you feel like that.”
“Then what were you doing?” Viv snapped, her voice sharper now, but Beth could hear the pain beneath it. “Because all I know is how it felt. And it felt fucking awful.”
Beth swallowed thickly, shaking her head. She hadn’t even realized until now, but she was crying—hot, silent tears that burned against her cheeks.
“I know,” she whispered. “And I’m so, so sorry, Vivi. For all of it.”
Viv looked at her then, and Beth swore she saw something flicker—some of the anger, the hurt, the exhaustion shifting into something else.
“I don’t want us to never talk again,” Viv admitted after a long beat, her voice softer now. “I don’t want us to be strangers.”
Beth swallowed, feeling the weight of everything between them pressing down on her chest. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing, didn’t want to push Viv further away, but she also couldn’t stand leaving things as they were.
“I don’t want us to be strangers either,” she admitted, her voice softer now.
Viv didn’t look away, but she stayed silent, arms still crossed, fingers gripping the fabric of her hoodie like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Beth took a small, hesitant step forward, trying not to push too much, but making sure Viv knew she wasn’t going to run away again.
“I know I can’t change what I did,” she continued, voice steady despite the way her heart was racing. “I can’t take back that morning. I can’t take back how I made you feel, and I can’t blame you for being angry with me. But if you’d let me… I want to show you that you matter to me. That you’ve always mattered to me.”
Viv’s expression flickered, something unreadable crossing her face, but she still didn’t say anything.
Beth inhaled deeply, willing herself to keep going.
“Let me take you out tomorrow.”
That got a reaction.
Viv’s eyebrows shot up, confusion flashing in her eyes. “What?”
Beth exhaled, pushing through before she lost her nerve.
“A real date.” Her voice was steadier now, more certain. “Not as teammates, not as whatever the hell we’ve been these last few weeks. Just us. No football, no media, no pretending things are fine when they’re not. I just want to be with you, properly. If you’ll let me.”
Viv blinked at her, like she wasn’t sure she had heard correctly.
Beth could see her thinking, processing, like she was trying to figure out if Beth was serious or if this was just another mistake waiting to happen.
“You’re asking me out?” Viv finally said, slowly, like she needed to say it out loud to believe it.
Beth let out a quiet, almost breathless laugh. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Viv looked away for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. Beth couldn’t tell if she was considering it or trying to figure out how to let her down gently.
“I don’t know, Beth,” Viv murmured eventually. “This isn’t exactly something you can fix with a dinner reservation.”
“I know,” Beth nodded immediately. “And I don’t expect that. I just… I don’t want to run from this anymore. I want to try. I want to prove to you that I care.”
Viv’s fingers curled tighter into the fabric of her hoodie, her jaw tensing slightly.
Beth took a slow breath. “It’s just one date. And if you go, and you decide you don’t want this—if you decide I can’t fix this—then I’ll respect that. But I need to try, Viv. I need you to know that you’re not just—some mistake I want to forget. That’s the last thing you are to me.”
Silence stretched between them.
Beth’s heart was pounding in her chest, waiting, hoping.
Finally, Viv exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “You’re exhausting.”
Beth felt her chest tighten, but then—there it was. The smallest twitch of Viv’s lips, barely a smile, but something softer, something less closed off.
“So that’s a yes?” Beth asked cautiously.
Viv sighed again, rolling her eyes, but she nodded. “Yeah.”
Beth let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a slow, relieved smile pulling at her lips.
“Yeah?” she repeated, just to be sure.
Viv gave her a pointed look. “Yeah, Beth.”
Beth couldn’t help it—she grinned, her whole body feeling lighter for the first time in weeks.
Beth let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of her neck as she glanced toward the door.
“Maybe I should go,” she murmured, the words coming out softer than she intended. There was an awkward chuckle that followed, the kind that wasn’t really a laugh at all. “I feel like I’ve been bothering you quite a bit. Disturbing your peace and all that.”
She smiled faintly, but it barely held. The nerves were seeping through, cracking the confidence she always tried to keep intact.
Viv didn’t say anything right away. She just watched her, expression unreadable, arms still crossed over her chest like she was keeping herself together.
Beth nodded slightly, as if confirming something to herself. “I’ll text you the details.”
Viv gave a small nod, lips pressing together. “Okay.”
They both moved toward the door at the same time, an awkward shuffle that made Beth nearly laugh. It was weird—after everything, after weeks of silence and tension, after the conversation that just unraveled so much between them, they were suddenly back to this. Trying to figure out where they stood, how they were supposed to move forward.
Beth reached for the door handle, but her fingers hesitated, curling into her palm instead.
Something in her—maybe desperation, maybe hope—held her back, kept her planted in place for just a second longer.
“Um.” Beth’s cheeks warmed. She suddenly felt shy, which was absurd given everything they’d just poured out. But this part—asking—felt oddly more vulnerable than anything. She scratched the back of her neck. “Before I go… Can I—would it be okay if I… hugged you?”
Viv’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. For a heartbeat, she didn’t respond. Beth’s pulse quickened; maybe it was too soon, maybe Viv would say no.
But then Viv stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice sure. “You can hug me.”
Beth didn’t need to be told twice. She opened her arms, and Viv stepped into them, wrapping her own arms around Beth’s waist. They came together in a tight, earnest embrace in the middle of Viv’s living room.
Beth let out a shaky breath as she held Viv close. Viv’s warmth, the familiar scent of her hair, the steady heartbeat Beth could feel against her own chest—Beth hadn’t realized how badly she’d been craving this simple closeness. A weight she’d been carrying for days lifted from her shoulders. “I missed you,” Beth whispered into Viv’s shoulder, her voice muffled and thick with emotion.
Viv’s arms tightened around Beth in reply. What was meant to be a brief hug lingered, both of them reluctant to let go. Viv nestled her face into the crook of Beth’s neck. “I missed you too,” she admitted quietly.
Beth closed her eyes, a tear or two slipping out onto her lashes. She didn’t bother to hide them. In the safety of Viv’s embrace, it felt okay to finally let herself feel everything—the fear, the regret, and now the relief. Especially the relief.
After a long moment, they slowly drew apart, but only just enough to see each other’s faces. Viv lifted a gentle hand to Beth’s cheek. Beth felt her breath catch as Viv’s thumb brushed away a tear that had rolled down. The tenderness in that simple gesture almost unraveled her.
Viv gave a tiny, encouraging smile as she cupped Beth’s cheek for a second. “Hey,” she whispered, looking into Beth’s eyes, “we’re figuring it out. Okay?”
Beth’s face crumpled into a grateful smile. She covered Viv’s hand on her cheek with her own, turning her head slightly to press a light kiss to Viv’s palm before letting their hands fall. “Okay,” she echoed softly. Her heart felt full for the first time since that morning.
Viv’s reassurance, that gentle promise that they were figuring it out, was everything Beth needed to hear. They weren’t fixed, not by a long shot. But they were talking, holding each other, and willing to try. That was more than Beth had dared hope for when she arrived.
“I’ll text you?” Beth asked as she finally, reluctantly, stepped back toward the door. She wiped the last of her tears away with the back of her hand, a bashful laugh escaping her. She felt a little silly for crying, but if anything, Viv looked at her even more softly for it.
Viv walked with her to the door. “You better,” Viv replied, trying to sound stern but not quite managing it with the smile tugging at her lips.