Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
BECKY
Becky felt a smile lift at the corners of her lips. She knew she’d find Wren here, standing just inside the pitch lines, barefoot. Wren had been superstitious all the way back when they were teenagers, too. It was hard to not find the habit a little adorable, even now.
She couldn’t shake the memories of their first college match squared off against each other, just over four years ago.
She’d seen Wren, just like this, walking slowly and deliberately up the side of the Grizzlies field.
The same nervous energy boiled through her, threatening to spill over.
Only, this time, Becky was anxious in a different way.
Then she’d been hurt, mad, confused, and out for blood. Now, she felt a little timid.
They’d texted all week. There had even been a serious point where Wren’s ex had been driving her particularly crazy that Becky had very seriously considered inviting her out early.
She’d chickened out though, more than aware that this current buzzing between them was a live wire that had already zapped them before.
Really, what it had come down to was that Becky didn’t know how she was supposed to play against Wren now.
Now that she knew how well they connected when they played together.
She’d spent a lot of extra time in the film room this week, trying to get a better understanding of how Wren meshed with her teammates on Riptide.
What she had noticed were a lot of stunning runs that had resulted in no one slotting her a ball.
Wren was faster than Becky. A point Becky had always hated, and something that had contributed to how rough she’d had to play against her in college.
But knowing that most of Wren’s runs would be in vain would absolutely work in Becky’s favor.
And Becky needed the advantage. Most of her family would be in attendance tonight.
Her eldest brother’s new law firm had bought a box, and her parents had casually invited themselves along.
Becky hadn’t seen them since she’d been outed by that magazine, and they had barely exchanged texts—even in their family chat—ever since.
Knowing they were going to be there made her nauseous, her need to win all the more pressing.
Before Becky could anguish over her family anymore, Wren looked up.
Her green eyes caught in the sun, even from across the field.
They took Becky’s breath away. God, she was a goner.
Katie had spent the better part of the week teasing her every time Becky had smiled at her phone.
And every time Becky had really thought about it, her national team contract flashed into her mind.
She rolled her eyes at herself for the millionth time that week.
Just because she might be the teensiest, most inconveniently attracted to Wren, didn’t mean Wren felt the same way.
She was smack dab in the middle of a very messy, public breakup.
And not to mention, Becky had only ever hurt her.
That didn’t make Wren any less hot, though.
As if she could hear Becky’s thoughts, Wren waved, grinning far too enthusiastically, given that they were playing on opposite teams today. Wren quickly slipped into slides and jogged over.
“Hey, Rebecca,” she called out when she was close enough to not have to shout. She pulled Becky into an easy hug, just like she had the last time she’d seen her.
“Hello, Wrenstipher,” Becky said, smiling at her own joke. She’d spent the week calling Wren various versions of her name, and it hadn’t ceased to amuse either of them.
Wren laughed. “That’s a good one. I’m surprised you haven’t used that one before.”
Becky couldn’t think of anything to say. She felt sixteen all over again, confused and nervous, and like her ridiculous crush was forbidden and unrequited. Only, it hadn’t been unrequited then, nor had it been forbidden. It was most certainly both of those things now.
“Well,” Wren asked, dragging the word out. “How was the rest of your week?”
Becky huffed out a laugh. “It was fine. We won on Tuesday and practiced a lot. How was your week?” Becky didn’t want to pry, but Wren looked visibly tired.
Wren shrugged. “Not bad, all things considered. I’m going to not have a roommate when I get back tomorrow night, and I’m pretty stoked about that.”
“Hey, that is good news. Has it been bad with Andy?”
Becky had done her best to not ask about Wren’s ex situation.
Especially not after Wren had texted her earlier in the week that Andy had tried to get back with her.
It wasn’t and couldn’t be any of Becky’s business.
She had no claim to Wren. Andy and Wren had been together for over a year.
She just had to accept that. She’d been so curious about all of it.
Had they been sharing a bed? Had one of them been sleeping on the couch?
Did they have a guest room? It wasn’t any of her business.
Katie had talked her down more than once this week.
Wren made a face that bordered on nauseous, but she shook her head.
“Nah, honestly. She’s either been throwing parties in the living room, very obviously trying to piss me off and trash the place simultaneously, or she’s been passed out on the couch.
So, not really. I expect a trashed apartment, maybe some missing clothes, and probably a passive aggressive note stuck to the fridge when I make it back tomorrow night. ”
“Wait. That’s awful,” Becky was outraged. She almost offered to fly back with Wren, if only to help clean up.
“Honestly, I just hope she locks the door when she leaves. Well, and I hope she’s gone.” Wren ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t pulled it back yet. It looked a bit wild from her slow, steady walking warm up.
Becky bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back all that she really wanted to say. “I hope she’s gone, too.” Her eyes widened when she realized that could be misconstrued. “I just mean, you shouldn’t have to put up with that.”
Wren grinned at her, those damn dimples digging in deep. “You gonna play nice today? Or should I ready the stretchers?” She teased, changing the subject, nodding at the field.
“Oh my God. Be less dramatic,” Becky said, scoffing.
“Me?” Wren asked, looking offended. “You know what? I’m going to not even dignify that with a response. The last thing I need is to piss you off before the game even starts.”
That got a giggle out of Becky. “Oh yeah? Scared Wrensington?”
“You wish,” Wren shot back, though her eyes decidedly caught on Becky’s mouth.
Becky lifted her chin, cockily. “Then I guess I’ll see you back out here to kick your ass.”
That stupid scarred eyebrow lifted. “Is that so?”
Shit, she was confident. It made Becky swallow nervously, and she absolutely hated that. “Yep.” Jesus, that was lame.
“Well, good luck then, Becky,” Wren said, holding her hand out for Becky to shake.
She did shake Wren’s hand, a little rougher than necessary. “I don’t need luck, but thanks anyway,” she shot back. She let go so she could do her best sashay away. She hoped Wren watched her go, but she never once turned around to check.
The last thing Becky had wanted to do in her first match against Wren, both professionally, and since their relationship had shifted to whatever it had become, was get a yellow card.
Especially since her parents were somewhere in the stadium.
The first half of their match had been the cleanest half of soccer Becky had ever played.
It wasn’t until they were nearly thirty minutes deep into the second half that, well, things took a turn.
Namely, Wren got sent the perfect ball from Courtney Sinclair, and Becky was about to lose a footrace.
Wren one-on-one with a keeper, statistically speaking—because yes, Becky did have every single one of Wren’s stats memorized—would absolutely result in a goal for Wren, and all of Riptide, obviously.
If Riptide went up now, Becky knew that it would almost guarantee them the win.
It’s not that she didn’t believe in her team’s offense so much as she was really good at stats and knowing when fouls were worth it.
She had really hoped this exact scenario wouldn’t present itself in tonight’s game.
She had been hoping, near praying, that her team would take an early lead and that if Wren got the jump on her, she could eat her pride and let her go.
But as it was, Becky clenched her jaw, hoping this didn’t ruin anything between them, as she subtly—as subtly as possible that is—grabbed a fist full of the hem of Wren’s jersey and held on, ruining Wren’s momentum and giving herself the upper hand of balance.
This wasn’t their first rodeo. She knew Wren’s elbow would immediately shoot back at full force.
There’d probably be some flailing, too, as Wren rightfully tried to draw attention to the fact that Becky was holding on to her jersey.
Becky braced for the inevitable, but it never came.
Instead of throwing her elbow, Wren let herself get ripped off course, sending them both to the ground.
The center ref blew his whistle, stopping play.
He jogged over with more than one harsh reprimand for Becky about jersey pulling and this being her one and only warning.
But Becky barely registered his existence.
She was too shocked that Wren hadn’t reacted in the same way that she had during all four of their years playing against each other.
“What the fuck, Rebecca?” Wren spat, literally, trying to get grass out of her mouth as they untangled themselves and got to their feet.