Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
WREN
Should she be icing her ankle right now? Probably. It was absolutely slightly sprained, but Wren had way too much energy to be hanging back in the team booth when the night-club they were at was playing nothing but dutch house music.
Wren had no clue what any of the lyrics meant, but she needed to dance to it.
With all of the drama and, honestly, trauma, over the past few months, it had been a while since Wren had just truly gotten lost in the moment.
She’d never really been a club person, that much was true, but she’d also never been in Sweden before.
She was in Sweden on the Women’s National Team, and they had just won.
So, yeah, Wren was going to dance her face off.
Most of the team seemed to have the same opinion.
They were laughing and shaking it all around her.
A very small part of her wished that there was some way that she and Rebecca could dance together in the club, but she knew that would be an awful idea.
Thankfully, it seemed that Rebecca had the same understanding.
That didn’t stop them from making really intense eye contact with each other from across the dance floor.
Rebecca didn’t dance like Wren did. Wren gave it everything, replicating all the moves she had seen in music videos over the years, but Rebecca danced like she did most things.
Very precise, intentional movements. Wren only saw those walls come down in two places for Rebecca, in bed or on a soccer field.
Just once, Wren wanted to see her actually move.
She knew she could. She knew that Rebecca had the ability to roll her hips.
She’d seen it and felt it first hand. Even thinking about it was intoxicating.
Maybe the music was getting to her. Or maybe she’d had one drink too many.
With that thought, Wren ducked off the dance floor, heading for the bar.
She should switch to water for a bit before she did something impulsive or reckless.
She ordered a water and waited, turning back to watch her teammates.
They’d played well together at their previous games, but today they’d felt like one cohesive unit.
Watching like this, she could see the friendships that had formed, the bonds that were being made.
They were becoming a team; the rookies were starting to gel in ways that they hadn’t before.
Her eyes drifted to Rebecca again, unable to stop her gaze from raking up Rebecca’s lithe body.
The bartender slid the water bottle across the counter, and Wren used the moment as the distraction it was and, damn, did she need it.
Rebecca looked stunning. She’d done something to her hair to make it wavy, and Wren found the effect dazzling.
Wren’s jaw had comically dropped when Rebecca had stepped out of their shared bathroom. The primary culprit was the top that Rebecca was wearing. It had a low scoop neck that Wren found herself desperate to trace with her tongue, contract be dammed.
Rebecca must have heard Wren’s thoughts because at that moment, she looked up, hazel eyes searching until they landed on Wren, leaned back against the bar.
Wren watched as Rebecca stalked closer, wondering if Rebecca knew the effect she was having. She had to. Her steps were too measured and calculated.
“How’s your after-party going?” Rebecca asked, leaning in far closer than necessary.
Wren could smell her subtle perfume mixed with whatever product she’d used on her hair.
The combination was absolutely working. She cleared her throat and leaned back, just enough so that she could see Rebecca’s eyes.
“It’s good. I wish we could dance, though.
” She had to all but shout to be heard over the pumping music.
Rebecca laughed—a real one, light and playful. Holy shit was she beautiful. Her freckles looked radiant in the low lighting of the club. “I’m an awful dancer,” she yelled back, her voice carrying over the music.
“You shouldn’t be,” Wren mused, lifting a challenging eyebrow.
“Have you seen me out there?” Rebecca asked, her tone playful though self-deprecating.
Wren nodded. “Yeah. I still think you can dance, though.”
“Maybe you could show me some moves later?” Rebecca asked, easily stealing Wren’s water bottle to take a big drink of it.
Rebecca’s back was to their team, blocking Wren from view, and she knew that, but that didn’t make any of this less dangerous.
They were playing with fire. Just like they were every time they got this close to each other.
There was an undeniable spark between them.
It was filling the space between them now.
Wren wanted nothing more than to grab Rebecca’s hands and drag her back to their hotel right that second, but she couldn’t.
They couldn’t leave until some of the other players left as well.
They’d just have to tough it out and keep their hands to themselves for a little while longer.
They should keep their hands to themselves for the rest of the year, but Wren couldn’t even pretend that that would be possible anymore.
Those warning lights and alarm bells that had been ringing in Wren’s mind all week had gone silent.
Their history and the speed with which they always seemed to barrel over the edge had faded out of view as well.
Wren was tired of pretending. She liked Rebecca.
Rebecca liked her. Maybe for tonight, that could be all that mattered.
The worst part about having to behave was that the rest of the team did not.
Well, they did, but none of them were fighting a losing battle with their self-control.
The drinks were flowing, and dancing was getting worse and worse.
Wren hadn’t witnessed anyone on the team get this rowdy before, but more than half the team was absolutely lit.
She’d made a conscious effort to fully switch to water and it looked like Rebecca had, too, but they were the only ones.
Danielle was shaking it like her life depended on it, and most of the other veterans were egging her on.
A few of the players had even found locals to make out with.
Wren thought her eyebrows might permanently fuse with her hairline, she’d had them lifted for so long.
She wasn’t one to judge. She hoped everyone had a great time.
She just worried about everyone getting back to the hotel safely and honestly did not want to be the one responsible for that.
She had high hopes for later that very much did not involve babysitting any of her drunk teammates.
Ali danced over, moving in too closely. Wren could smell the alcohol on her. There was no way this was going to go well. Wren really liked Ali as a person, but she had not grasped the subtle ways in which Wren had tried to shut her down.
Wren backed up a bit, letting Ali dance in the space in front of her without making any contact with her.
She really wished she could get some help here, but Rebecca would likely knock Ali out at this point if Wren called her over and any of the other players getting involved would just make it awkward.
Ali tried again, swaying closer. “Come on, Wren. It’s just dancing,” she yelled over the music.
Wren waved her hands, trying to dissuade her. “Nah, I’m good, dude.”
“I don’t get you,” Ali yelled. “Aren’t you single?"
“We all literally signed contracts agreeing to not sleep with each other. Remember?” Wren asked, trying to shut this down as quickly and as gently as possible.
“Wren, literally no one gives a shit about those contracts. That’s just some legal nonsense so we can’t sue or anything,” Ali scoffed. But then her eyes widened, another thought creeping in. “Wait. Are you really with the bitch that roughs you up on the regular?” Ali’s eyes shot to Rebecca.
“Whoa,” Wren said, her rage fully igniting in less than half a second.
She could feel herself becoming overly defensive, despite her best efforts to stay calm.
“First off, she’s your teammate, so cool it with the name calling.
” She could feel the venom dripping from her voice.
“Second off, she’s my friend—a good friend—who’s been there for me during a really rough time.
And third, respectfully, my sex life is no one’s business and I’m really fucking tired of everyone speculating about it.
” Wren stepped closer to her, not hiding her frustration at all anymore.
“And finally, I’m not into you like that regardless of who I’m sleeping with or not sleeping with.
I thought you and I were friends.” Wren didn’t mean to get so loud, but she was absolutely making a scene.
Before she could say anything else, anything hurtful, she stormed off the dance floor.
She pushed through the door to the smoking section. The cool night air made her wish that she had brought a jacket. Her very loose and mostly unbuttoned shirt did nothing to fight off the sharp temperature difference between the club and Sweden in early March.
Surprisingly, it was Courtney who followed her outside. “You good?” Her captain asked.
Wren sighed. No. She was annoyed. And she wanted to go back to her hotel room and bury her face in Rebecca’s neck. She’d wanted to leave an hour ago, and now Ali had gone and made shit so—so incredibly awkward.
“Hey, shake it off. You had a great game today. You deserve to celebrate,” Courtney clapped her palm against Wren’s shoulder.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at her,” Wren said. She felt bad about that. Rejection sucked, but public rejection was brutal. Ali wasn’t an awful person, just a little dense, but Wren had nearly lost it when she insulted Rebecca.
“Nah, but she shouldn’t have put you in that position, either.” Courtney leaned against a wall. She was pretty clearly intoxicated. It would have been amusing in any other context.
“True,” Wren muttered.