Chapter 19 Toni
Toni
One week later…
“I can’t believe we’re gold medalists.”
Yvonne stared at the large gold medal that hung between her bare breasts. We were cuddled on the mattresses on the floor after a marathon lovemaking session to celebrate our win earlier today.
After we’d annihilated the Russians, the Swedes gave us a run for our money, but the team played hard, stayed focused, and emerged victorious. Getting our gold medals was the highlight of my career. All of our careers. It was like our dreams had come true.
“I totally believe it,” I said. “I never had a doubt that we’d go all the way.”
Yvonne rolled over to look down at me. Her lips were swollen and she had the look of a person who’d had a good orgasm – twice. There was something about post-victory adrenaline that made sex even better.
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked in surprise. “You’re such a badass.”
“Sometimes I feel like it’s all an act,” she said softly. “Like I’ve been in ‘fake it until you make it’ mode for years.”
I reached up to stroke her cheek with my fingers. “Are you still upset about the article?”
A major US news outlet had posted an interview with Sergey Volkov after the gold medal game today.
In the article, he took full credit for teaching Yvonne how to play hockey and giving her his ‘competitive spirit’.
Of course he failed to mention that they were estranged and other than that short conversation in the cafeteria last week, they hadn’t spoken in years.
Yvonne flopped onto her back, making her gold medal slide over the side of one breast.
“I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it still kind of does.”
I snuggled closer, wrapping one arm and both of my legs around her to hold her close. “You’re entitled to your feelings. I guess you could do an interview too, setting the records straight, but that’s gonna dredge up a bunch of shit you probably would rather not drag up.”
“Yeah,” she sighed deeply. “I just need a little time. Today was a lot.”
“Speaking of time,” I said softly. “Our time here is almost up.”
We had one more day in Italy, then we were all flying home the day after tomorrow. I had one additional day after I got home to recover before I was expected back on the ice with my team. Thinking about being separated from Yvonne was killing me.
“I’m going to miss this,” she said sadly.
I couldn’t help the pang of hurt that went through me. Was she just giving up on me?
“Seattle and Vancouver aren’t too far apart,” I said tentatively.
“A hundred and fifty miles,” she said. “Plus a border crossing. I hate going back and forth through customs.”
I felt like I was going to cry, which was weird because I never cried. Had I totally misjudged this situation? I thought Yvonne and I were on the same page. That we’d leave here and figure out some way to be together. A long distance relationship. A trade. Something.
Then again, we’d been here two weeks. We’d lived a lifetime in those two weeks for sure, but why would we upend our lives for what amounted to a vacation fling?
Except it didn’t feel like a fling. It felt like love.
My phone buzzed, reminding us it was time to get ready for the team celebration.
The coaches had rented out a private room at a restaurant in downtown Milan.
We’d take pictures, give awards, and celebrate our improbably victory.
Our team had come to Italy as underdogs and emerged as the best team in the world. It was something to be proud of.
Yvonne and I were both quiet as we got ready to leave, moving past each other in the small space like strangers instead of two people who’d been face down in each other’s pussies just a couple of hours ago.
We’d all agreed to wear our opening team tee shirts along with our medals.
I’m pretty sure none of us would be taking them off for a while.
I put on my team shirt along with my most flattering jeans, the ones that made my ass look fabulous.
I took care to brush out my curls into soft waves and added a little lipstick and mascara to complete the look.
I wanted to look good in the pictures and maybe remind Yvonne what she’d be missing when we parted ways.
“Ready to go?” I asked her.
She gave me a quizzical look, like she could feel me pulling away and was confused about it.
“Yeah, sure.”
The trattoria staff seemed thrilled to have the women’s hockey gold medal team eating with them.
When we arrived the tables in our private dining room were piled high with food – various types of pastas, seafood, vegetables, everything you could think of.
And wine. Lots and lots of wine. Now that we weren’t in training anymore we could eat and drink as much as we wanted.
Yvonne and I were standing to the side when Greta approached us with Marlena, another woman on our team who played for Chicago.
“Are you two going to come out now?” Greta teased.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I’ve never hid my sexuality.”
That was the nice thing about women’s hockey. Unlike the men’s leagues, there was not really any taboo around LGBTQ+ status. I’d guess more than half of the league was lesbian, and a good chunk of the rest were bisexual or other orientations. Hetero girls were definitely the minority.
“She’s talking about the way you two are so in love with each other that everyone on the team knows it – and all the other teams too,” Marlena said pointedly.
“I, uh…,” I looked to Yvonne for help, but she was avoiding my gaze. “We’re just friends.”
If I hadn’t been looking at her, I would have missed the way Yvonne flinched before schooling her features again. What was she hurt about, she was the one who said it was too much trouble to travel between Vancouver and Seattle.
“Friends don’t grind against each other on the dance floor,” Greta said pertly. “But y’all go ahead and keep pretending. We won’t tell anyone.”