Page 50 of Rumor Has It

This was the part Becky didn’t really want to face. The part where reality crept in and shattered everything. “The real world happened. She needed to get back to her team’s hotel so she could grab her stuff and catch the shuttle to the airport.”

Katie’s face softened, all of her teasing gone. “Becky, she scampered. What happened?” She asked again, reaching over and grabbing Becky’s hand for support.

“What I knew would happen. What was logically going to happen. She told me we can’t do this. She needs her spot on the National Team. It’s not just like an accomplishment to her. She needs the money. When she and Andy broke up, she kept their lease. What was supposed to be a payment split into two, it now all falls on her.” Becky shrugged, willing herself not to cry. “She wasn’t trying to be mean. She just can’t lose her spot on the team. Those contracts we signed forbid fraternization, and the coaches honestly seem to hate the drama we keep dragging around with us. So, she basically said last night shouldn’t have happened. And then she left.”

“Ouch,” Katie said.

Becky just pulled her hoodie down farther on her head. “I mean, she’s right though,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “We’ve both worked so hard for our entire lives to get to where we are today. Throwing it away for… honestly, really phenomenal sex doesn’t make much sense. We just have to be professional. You know? Just make it through this year as travel buddies. Then the coaches will let us choose who we’re with next year, and we can just let it all go and pretend that we don’t have just, like, insane chemistry with each other.”

“Right,” Katie said, her voice still soft. It was fully locked into that gentle way in which she approached Becky and Becky knew it, but she couldn’t even muster being annoyed with Katie for it. She really felt like she needed the extra gentleness today. “But, Becky, do you really think that’s going to be possible? Can you really just act like last night didn’t happen?”

The answer was solidly probably not, but she’d have to. For Wren, she’d have to. “I’m just going to have to do my best,” she concluded. This was going to hurt.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

WREN

Wren breathed a sigh of relief as she slid into her seat on the team bus with three minutes to spare.

Courtney Sinclair nodded to her from across the aisle. “How’s your leg?” She asked, the concern sincere in her voice.

Honestly, it stung like a bitch, especially in the pants Wren had brought to travel home in, but she wasn’t about to say that to her team captain. Call her stupid, but she wasn’t going to let a little field burn pain get back to her coach—for either of her teams—and be the reason she couldn’t practice or play. She shrugged. “It itches,” she said, which was true. And if she wasn’t wearing such thick joggers, she’d probably be able to subtly scratch it right now.

Courtney let out a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” She looked around the bus, clearly trying to see who was listening, before she slid into the seat next to Wren.

Wren was more than a little aware that Courtney was also the National Team Captain, and while Wren had truly come to consider her a friend over the past month, she absolutely did not want to share a row with her on their trip to the airport—no matter how brief that trip might be. It was all Wren could do to not tug on the neck of her hoodie. No amount of concealer had been able to hide a deep bruise that Rebecca had sucked onto her throat.

“Do I need to talk to Coach Jameson and Coach T about your rooming situation for the National Team?” Courtney asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Holy shit. Did she know somehow? The words contract violation scrolled through her mind like a news ticker. “No?” She said, though it was clearly a question. Wren felt like she was walking through a minefield. Give nothing away, she reminded herself.

“Wren, Becky got another yellow card against you,” Courtney shook her head. “I don’t really have any issues with her as a person, but come on, you shouldn’t have to room with her if she’s going to keep playing like that against you, specifically.”

Wren shrugged, trying her best to seem nonchalant about it. She needed a nap, food, and time to process everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. And most importantly, she desperately needed to keep Courtney focused on Rebecca’s rough play and not on anything else. “I mean, yeah, she plays too dirty against me. I would agree, but”—Wren didn’t know how to finish her sentence.

Did she wish that Rebecca wouldn’t pull her jersey? Yeah, obviously. Was that slide-tackle completely out of line? Without a doubt. But there was also something kind of—hot— about the fact that Rebecca refused to let Wren win—at anything, really. Oh, Wren was so screwed and so conflicted. She should let Courtney try to get her reassigned. She should stay as far away from Rebecca Rothschild as she possibly could. But she also just kind of wanted to call Rebecca and apologize for this morning and ask if they could just go back to how things were before. Before the match, when they were texting all the time and flirting. Before they had rediscovered just how perfect everything could be when they were together.

“I don’t know,” Wren said, thinking about how shocked Rebecca looked to see her pounding on her front door. To how sorry she had truly been, the way she had looked so guilty in her entryway. To how incredible it felt to have her pulling Wren’s shirt in a different context. Wren shook the thoughts from her mind, hoping that her head shaking could be taken by Courtney in a way that meant, no, I don’t need a new roommate. But did she? Would Wren really be able to not reach for Rebecca again?

She cleared her throat. “It’s just—Part of me gets her.” God that was a lame answer.

“Are you two actually a thing?” Courtney asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I know she was wearing a LAU sweater last week and there was that fan with the Wrecky posters. Please tell me you’re not a thing?”

Contract violation scrolled through Wren’s mind again.

There had been no judgement in Courtney’s voice, but Wren could absolutely not let the captain of the National Team leave this seat thinking anything was going on between her and Rebecca. “Nah, we’re not a thing.” It was true. They weren’t. They were a complicated ball of mess, but they weren’t a thing. They couldn’t be.

Courtney nodded, looking visibly relieved. “Okay. So I don’t have to worry about you having some sort of weird rough soccer kink/fetish thing that’s going to get you sidelined with an injury for the rest of the season?”

Wren snorted out a surprised laugh. “A what?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one defending the chick who straight up shredded your leg last night. I’m just trying to make sure that’s not secretly what you’re into,” Courtney held up her hands in surrender, like her suggestion made total sense.

“No, I’m not into that.” Wren let out another breath of a laugh. “I just don’t think Becky’s a shitty person for trying to win.”

Courtney nodded at that, seemingly pleased with Wren’s answer. “Cool, okay.” She held her fist out for Wren to bump with her own knuckles. “Good chat, Eames.”