Page 72 of Rumor Has It

Rebecca Rothschild (9:17 PM): I’d love to talk to you, too. Think you can manage to stay awake for ten more minutes?

That one little heart emoji had Wren feeling wide awake. This was all still so new, but it felt good. It felt different. Sure, Wren had dated a few other soccer players before, but they’d always played for the same team. So, none of them had gone out of their way to do something like watch her highlights before. Wren felt like she was free falling and she was terrified that her parachute wasn’t going to open. But things were different this time. This time, they were falling together.

Wren Eames (9:18 PM): I’ll be awake. Call whenever.

It took exactly thirteen minutes before Wren’s phone rang. She didn’t even try to play it cool and let it ring more than once. “Hey,” Wren said, knowing that Rebecca would be able to hear the smile in her voice.

“Hey, yourself,” Rebecca’s voice rang through the phone.

“Good game today,” Wren said, biting her bottom lip. She felt like a teenager all over again. It wasn’t lost on her that it was Rebecca Rothschild making her feel this way.

Rebecca giggled. “You already said that.”

“I know,” Wren said, emphatically. “But I wanted to wait so I could hear how annoyed I could make you when I ask: why is it that you can make clean slide-tackles when you’re up against literally anyone on the planet who’s not me?”

Rebecca gasped in Wren’s ear. “Low blow, Wrenington.”

“Low blow from me? You’re the one with a vendetta against my ankles.” Wren laughed. “Also, Wrenington is kind of dope. You could repeat that one.”

“Noted.” Rebecca’s voice had one hell of a lilt to it. The kind of cadence that made Wren know exactly what face she was making even though Wren couldn’t see her at the moment. “Any other thoughts about my game?”

“Yeah, have your forwards watch some of our footage from our National Team games. They wasted two absolutely perfect crosses from you. It made me sick to my stomach.” Wren sighed a bit longingly for perfect passes unmet.

“Thank you for noticing.” Rebecca let the line go silent for a minute. “Thanks for watching my highlights.”

“You watched mine,” Wren said, matter of factly.

The tension on the line kicked up a notch. “Would it be weird if I said watching your highlights has been a habit of mine for a long time?”

Wren huffed out a laugh. She wrapped her own arms around herself, wanting to contain this feeling in her chest. “No weirder than me having to admit that right back.”

“Did you really?” Rebecca asked. “Like not just as part of your assigned pre-game homework?”

Wren nodded to a painfully empty room. She wished they were in bed together for this conversation. It would feel warmer whispered in a shared space between them. “Yeah.”

“Are we… masochists?” Rebecca asked, her voice coy and flirty.

“We must be,” Wren said, playing back into it. “I, for one, have the scars to prove it. Glutton for pain, I suppose.”

“Too bad I’m not there to kiss them better,” Rebecca hummed.

Wren let out a rough laugh. “I really don’t think I’d want to waste any time with your mouth on my ankle when there are so many better places it could be.”

There was a sharp intake of breath through the phone. “Wren,” Rebecca’s tone was sharper, firm like a warning.

“Rebecca,” Wren mirrored it.

“What are you doing?” Rebecca sounded hesitant, though definitely curious.

Wren hummed. “What? Am I not allowed to point out that I would rather your mouth on my nipples than on my ankle?” Well, that was honest. Wren blushed at her own words.

She’d never had phone sex before and this conversation was rapidly dissolving in that direction. She probably should have initiated some semblance of a conversation about this before they’d arrived here, but she couldn’t really help herself. If they had been in person, Wren would have probably already taken her own shirt off by now. Rebecca’s southern accent just did something to her.

So did the sound of Rebecca moaning, which Wren just got a front-ear seat for as Rebecca moaned softly in response to Wren’s hypothetical question. “You can point that out,” Rebecca finally said, her voice an octave lower than its normal register. It carried a rumble that made Wren want to hold her phone to her clit. “I just didn’t expect you to. So, um, I take it there was no need for you to have a travel buddy on this trip?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or cross any lines,” Wren said hurriedly. “And nope. I’ve got this big ol’ room all to myself.”

“You haven’t crossed any lines,” Rebecca said quickly, her voice sounding steady and sure. “Also, congrats on the room.”