Page 82 of Rumor Has It

After talking it over, they’d all agreed that Barbara’s plan was their best shot at setting the story straight or doing anything really to try and take control of the narrative. If they were going to be fired from the National Team, at the very least, this would give them the opportunity to be fired for accurate reasons.

Wren cleared her throat. “Uh, thank you for joining today everybody.” She smiled awkwardly.

In her seemingly infinite wisdom, Barbara had also had the sense to set the stage a little bit, so to speak. She’d made Wren and Rebecca put on the fits they would wear to the stadium later that morning. She’d also done her best to make Wren’s couch “worth filming.” In reality, she had just tossed a few of Wren’s throw pillows out of frame, mumbling about her sister being a big nerd while she worked.

Thankfully, she was also the camera person for the livestream. She gave Wren a big thumbs up and a hopeful smile.

“So,” Wren said, taking a deep breath. “There are some rumors that I’ve been wanting to address. Hopefully, this can clear a few things up for all of you. The first is about my breakup with Andrea Santorini. We did break up, but for what it’s worth, I didn’t cheat on her. Not with any of my teammates, not with anyone random, either. But I did want to address another rumor about my relationship with Becky Rothschild.”

They had agreed before doing the live that it made the most sense for Wren to call Becky by her preferred name while the cameras were rolling. Calling her Rebecca would only prompt other people to call her Rebecca and, at the end of the day, Rebecca really only enjoyed it when Wren called her that.

As planned, Rebecca stepped into frame and sat down on the couch next to Wren. “But,” Rebecca said, “before we address anything, we really want to officially request that all of the rumors about us stop, here and now. What we’re willing to share with the world today is the full extent of what we’re willing to share, and we do so knowing full well the consequences of that decision. But this is us formally stating that we do not consent to have our photos taken or magazine articles printed about us. So, anything you have seen or read or heard about us,” Rebecca shrugged and begrudgingly added, “or probably will see or read about us, are in fact rumors.”

Wren nodded. “Let this serve as proof that we’re willing to share when it’s worth it.”

Rebecca looked at Wren and smiled, her grin far more confident than Wren felt. “The truth is I fell in love with Wren Eames when I was sixteen.”

“And before I get called anything mean, I was also in love with her,” Wren added holding her hands up. “Okay. Sorry, continue.”

“We have agreed to keep all of those details private. But when digging up our past and our college play against each other, just know that rivalry had a healthy dose of heartbreak mixed in,” Rebecca said.

“On both sides,” Wren added quickly, her voice kind of panicked. She could only imagine the comments.

Rebecca snorted out a laugh. “Okay. Fine. We have agreed to keep the details private, but I will admit to the world that it’s my fault we didn’t work then. Happy?”

Wren nodded and smiled for real for the first time since the camera started rolling. “More so. Thank you.”

“Anyway. As I was saying. We addressed all of our history when we were forced to room together for the National Team,” Rebecca said.

Wren cleared her throat.

“Okay. Really?” Rebecca asked, turning to face Wren. She was still grinning though, so Wren knew she wasn’t actually mad. Maybe slightly annoyed, but not mad. Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Fine. That part is also my fault.”

“Thank you,” Wren said again. “I can tell the next bit. Unfortunately, around that time the world saw a photo of me that I did not want the world to see. I was kind of hoping that I could use my platform to be some sort of a role model.” Wren swallowed back her emotions and shook her head. “The ability to do that kind of got stripped from me before I was even able to have a platform. And it’s my fault. I sent the photo to someone not trustworthy in the first place. So, I guess, if there are any teenagers or twenty-somethings watching this, please make better decisions about who you trust with anything like that. Even people you trust can really violate your privacy and then refuse to do anything about it when you ask them to.”

Rebecca reached over and squeezed Wren’s thigh, reassuring her. It worked, so Wren continued. “I wish I could look you all in the eyes and say that I came home and immediately ended things, but I didn’t. That first magazine spread of the two of us, made Andrea think I was having an affair and she dumped me.”

“That article also outed me to my parents,” Rebecca added. “So, when we ask everyone for privacy moving forward, I hope this can serve as a good enough reason to grant it to us.”

“All that said,” Wren took a deep breath. “We have decided to try again. Falling in love at sixteen is hard and messy. And while I’m not sure it’s going to be any easier at twenty-two—in fact, in some ways I think it might actually be harder—we’re going to try.”

Rebecca grinned at her, ignoring the camera completely. “Heck, yeah, we are.”

And with that, Barbara ended the livestream. She jumped up and down, squealing with delight. “I’m a genius. The people love you. There’s no way they can kick y’all off the team after that. Your fans would ride at dawn.”

Wren felt like she might actually throw up. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

Wren and Becky left Wren’s apartment holding hands two hours later. Andy really had called people. Wren wasn’t sure who she knew that could have assembled this many photographers in such a short time, but there were no fewer than ten people waiting in Wren’s parking lot with cameras. Wren’s stomach bottomed out. She was thankful she didn’t eat much before games because if she’d had a full lunch, she might have legitimately puked it all up.

“Just ignore them,” Rebecca whispered as she walked with Wren out to her pickup truck.

Wren did her best to listen to her girlfriend. She opened Rebecca’s door for her and shut it gently behind her, doing her absolute best to not make eye contact with any of the cameras.

“Wren, care to comment?” One of the photographers called out.

Wren looked up at him and strongly considered unloading, but instead she just shrugged. “No, thank you.” She rounded her truck and slid into the driver’s seat with a heavy sigh.

“Proud of you,” Rebecca said.