She picked up her iPad, a birthday present from her parents a couple of years back, and navigated to Archive of Our Own (AO3), the open source nonprofit website where fan fiction authors posted their works. Reading some angsty fluff about imaginary people would definitely help her forget the feeling of not knowing what her future held. That was the wonderful thing about fan fiction—authors created fictional settings where, for the most part, homophobia didn’t exist and gender and sexual fluidity was the norm.
Due to the uber-rosy alternate realities it offered, fan fiction was slowly and steadily ruining Jamie’s appetite for mainstream literature and movies. Fortunately, there were independent queer presses and film production companies putting out more and more works. It would feel good to spend money on those—once she earned enough to have spending money. For now, free femslash works on the Internet would do nicely.
Slouching lower, she clicked a tag and began to scroll through, open to wherever tonight’s reading experience would take her.
#
Once camp started, Jamie discovered she didn’t mind Emma’s absence too terribly. Without her gorgeous soccer-playing girlfriend’s presence to distract her, she could bond with her teammates, focus on her coaches, and concentrate on making her body perform at its absolute best. Meals and bedtime were less complicated, too, a fact she especially appreciated since Britt, her closest friend for the past three years, had been invited to residency camp to fill the fourth goalkeeper spot. Jo and the rest of the national team coaching staff had been impressed by her season with the Washington Spirit, who she’d helped propel from dead last in the league the previous year to a winning season and a spot in this year’s playoffs.
When she arrived from DC the first day of camp, Britt tried to wave off Jamie and Angie’s enthusiasm at “getting the band back together.” Fourth string wasn’t anything to be that excited about, she maintained, but they were having none of it. Fourth was significantly better than fifth, sixth, or seventh, and besides, the World Cup roster had room for three keepers. In her current spot, she was only one slot away from a chance to play in her first major tournament for the senior side.
Having Britt and Angie in the same place again, however, meant relearning how her supposed best friends liked to gang up on her. Whenever those two got together, the practical jokes weren’t far behind. That was why Jamie was kicking herself after breakfast Saturday morning for going back to her room all innocent and unsuspecting, only to have the bejesus scared out of her by Angie and Britt lying in wait inside. They filmed the whole thing, the bastards, and put her blood-curdling shriek on Instagram later that day, choosing to edit out the part where she tackled Angie and gave her a revenge wedgie.
“You poor thing,” Emma texted that night, only just returned from her island getaway.
Jamie almost wrote back, “Come save me!” But then she remembered how annoyed Emma was about her enforced absence from the start of camp, and sent instead, “Still arriving tomorrow night?”
“Yep,” Emma replied, even the single word managing to sound testy.
“Sweet. See you soon!!!!!” She added a variety of emojis, smiling when Emma sent back a string of hearts.
Jamie missed her, as ever, and couldn’t wait to see her. As ever. Still, she was nervous about balancing their relationship with the demands of national team training. The last time they’d been at residency camp together, they’d barely been friends. Now they were significantly more, and she wasn’t sure what to expect.
After a quick dinner with the team the following night, she headed up to the room she was sharing with another newbie, Jessica North from, ironically, the deep south. Jamie wasn’t sure if it was a social experiment or a cruel joke, but sharing a hotel room with someone who had posted a Bible passage about sinners on Instagram the day the Supreme Court invalidated DOMA was not her idea of a comfortable situation. There were a few other Christian players on the team who studied the Bible together, but they ascribed to the “love everybody in Jesus’s name” school of religious thought. Jess, on the other hand, seemed sketchy when it came to anyone with different beliefs. Jamie wasn’t sure who was being hazed—the out, gender nonconforming lesbian, or the fundamentalist social conservative.
Fortunately, Jess was out when she reached their room. The other girl was freakishly prudish around Jamie, which made her feel awkward as hell. She didn’t want to catch sight of Jess’s naked body any more than Jess wanted her to, and yet she’d felt guilty when it had happened. How did straight women do that? How did they make you feel like the pervert when they were the ones fixating on pervy notions?
Despite the fact that the room was currently empty—Jamie checked and double-checked this time, even after leaving Britt and Angie at dinner with the rest of the team—she still brought her clothes with her to shower. Better to risk slightly damp clothing than to stroll naked out of the bathroom to find Jess and her God Squad friends glaring at her over their Bibles.
Except, again, Jess would presumably be the only God Squad member glaring. Rebecca was one of Jamie’s oldest friends on the team, Emily Shorter (who at 5’2” was, indeed, the shortest member of the squad) gave off quite the queer vibe herself, and Jordan Van Brueggen, who played for the Thorns, had posted a very nice Instagram message with her boyfriend about love and acceptance on Pride weekend. Those three didn’t act homophobic because they were actual Christians. You know, people who follow Jesus’s teachings? Jess could stand to learn a thing or two from them.
After a brief shower, Jamie dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and a baseball cap and headed out, wallet and keycards—hers and Emma’s—tucked into her back pocket. She checked her phone on the elevator to the lobby. Crap. Emma’s flight had arrived ten minutes early.
“I’m driving as fast as I can,” Meg said a few minutes later, hands fixed firmly on the steering wheel at ten and two. She had volunteered to help pick up Emma, though now Jamie was questioning the wisdom of accepting that offer since her sister refused to drive over the speed limit.
“For eff’s sake,” Jamie muttered. “It’s a suggestion, not a hard and fast limit. You’re not going to get a ticket for going five over.”
“A suggestion doesn’t have the power to raise my insurance rates,” Meg said. “Do you have any idea how expensive it is to share a car with a man under the age of thirty?”
“Nope,” Jamie said, thanking her lucky stars as she did most days that she had been born so utterly gay.
Despite Jamie’s exhortations, her sister insisted on adhering to the speed limit the entire way to the airport. Fortunately, Emma texted that she was still waiting for her luggage when they arrived, so they parked in short-term and headed to baggage claim. Somehow Meg spotted her first across the cavernous room.
“Emma!” she exclaimed, pulling her into a hug when they reached her. “Holy hell, girl, it’s been too long.”
“Hi Meg.” Emma smiled at Jamie over her sister’s shoulder.
And just like that, Jamie wondered why she had worried about distractions. She felt stronger, calmer, smarter somehow when Emma was around—basically, a better version of herself both on and off the field.
“How was the flight?” she asked as she gave Emma a brief hug. After the last Twitter meltdown back in June, she’d been careful not to linger too long when she touched Emma in public. But damn if she was going to give up doing so altogether.
“Fine,” Emma said. “How about you two? Did you get some quality time together?”
“We did,” Meg said. “Hopefully now we’ll get some with you, too.”
The baggage carousel beeped in warning, and soon they were chatting about Utah’s weather and Washington’s San Juan Islands as they watched for Emma’s luggage in the circling masses. Jamie was first to catch a glimpse of the navy blue bag, familiar now from the sheer amount of time they’d spent on the road since January. Slipping through the crowd, she grabbed the suitcase from the conveyor belt.
“Your luggage, milady
,” she said as she returned, adding a bow for good measure.
“So chivalrous,” Emma commented, her mouth quirking.
“Oh my god, you guys are too cute.” Meg sighed, the sound uncharacteristically sappy. “Can I just say I’m glad you two idiots finally realized you belong together?”
Jamie stared at her sister in surprise, a sentiment that grew exponentially as Emma reached for her bag, her lips ghosting over Jamie’s cheek so fleetingly it almost felt like an accident.
“So am I,” she said, and Jamie could only nod in agreement.
The drive back to the hotel felt considerably faster than the outbound trip, but that was likely only Jamie’s mind warping time since Meg kept the old Subaru Legacy at or under the speed limit again. Jamie didn’t mind the snail’s pace as much as she settled back in her seat and listened to her sister chat up her girlfriend as if they had been best friends forever. Emma fit so easily into her life. Jamie and Clare had never been that well-matched, and while Laurie, her college girlfriend, had been awesome, she didn’t care much about soccer. Also, she could be a bit—well, preachy at times when it came to her admittedly admirable ideals.
When they reached the hotel, Emma suddenly shifted gears as she sometimes did, becoming more or less business-like as she thanked Meg for the ride. With a quick glance around the driveway and an almost curt nod to Jamie, she hurried inside, wheeled suitcase trailing behind her.
“Is it me, or was that sort of abrupt?” Meg asked as Jamie gave her a quick hug and shouldered Emma’s carry-on.
“I know. Sorry. People on this team can be weird.” This was a fact she’d learned in her daily life with Ellie and Emma. The weirdness was usually justified, but there it was.
“I’ll take your word for it. Have fun tonight,” Meg added, smirking as she climbed back in the car.
“Shut up,” Jamie called after her, laughing as Meg flipped her off through the open window.
Emma was waiting near the elevator, restless hands belying her neutral expression.
“You okay?” Jamie asked as she pushed the up button.
“Fine. Just, a couple of fans posted the hotel’s location online, so…”
“So you’re hoping they aren’t lurking in the shadows?” She meant it as a joke.
Emma pushed the already-lit button. “Something like that.”
The elevator opened and they stepped aboard. During the short ride to the second floor, Jamie held herself carefully separate, worried that if she started kissing Emma now, she wouldn’t want to stop. She had no idea when they might get a chance to be alone; she only knew they would make it happen somehow. Angie and Maddie clearly managed. If things got truly desperate, Jamie could always ask them for tips.
On the second floor, she led Emma down the hallway to the room she would be sharing with Maddie. The door was propped open, so she knocked once and walked in, relieved to see that Maddie and Angie were decent. Angie was practically in Maddie’s lap as they watched TV, but on the plus side they were fully clothed and not actively making out.
“Blake!” Maddie set Angie aside and rose to give her roommate an enthusiastic hug. “You’re here, thank god. Camp isn’t the same without you. Oh, and sorry about the finals.”
Jamie suppressed a wince as she lowered Emma’s duffel onto the currently unoccupied bed. Emma had been clear that the less said about the previous weekend, the better. Maddie, however, was not one to sweep losses—or emotions, according to Emma—under the rug to be ignored. More was the pity.
Emma’s eyes flickered but she only said, “Thanks.”
“How was your flight?” Angie asked from the bed.
“Average to middling.” Emma placed her suitcase on a metal stand near the dresser, and then she yawned in a way that Jamie thought might even be genuine. “It’s good to see you guys, but I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last.”
“We can take a hint,” Maddie said. “Right, honey?”
“Right, sugar muffin.” Angie winked at Jamie as she rose.
“Please tell me you do not actually call her that,” Jamie said, making herself comfortable on the other bed.
“She doesn’t.”
“I totally do.”
“You guys have a couple of hours until curfew,” Maddie said, tugging Angie with her to the door. “Use your time wisely.” And with that, they were gone, the sound of their laughter echoing down the hallway.
“Christ.” Emma shook her head as she stepped out of her tennis shoes. “Tell me they won’t be like that forever.”
“Ooh, babe, I don’t think I can do that.”
Emma touched her cheek affectionately and then headed toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back. Save my spot?”
“You got it.”
While Emma used the bathroom, Jamie turned off the TV and gazed about the hotel room, a mirror image of hers and Jessica’s. Maddie had left the metal security latch wedged into the outer door, and Jamie left her comfy spot on the bed to remove it, shutting the door all the way. Emma seemed tired and slightly rattled, so Jamie doubted they would do more than cuddle, but it would still be nice to cuddle in private.
The toilet flushed and the water ran, and then Emma reappeared from the bathroom. “Hi,” she said softly, and dropped onto the bed to nestle into Jamie’s waiting arms.
“Hi,” she replied, feeling her muscles relax at the feel of Emma burrowing against her side, the familiar scent of her body wash, the sound of her contented sigh. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
Jamie hesitated. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“Was there turbulence?”
“Uh-huh.”
Jamie didn’t push, simply carded her fingers gently through Emma’s loose curls. She had learned that she couldn’t force Emma to open up, and attempting to do so would only cause an even deeper withdrawal. Since they had started dating, Jamie had become increasingly aware of the separate personas Emma wielded against the world. When they were alone or with Dani or other trusted friends, Emma was open, soft, affectionate. But around someone she didn’t know—or didn’t like, as was the case with Jamie’s teammate Isabela—she drew into herself, but so subtly Jamie almost didn’t notice. Then there was soccer Emma. On the field she was almost all business, calm and controlled and in charge—until someone took her out or fouled one of her teammates. Then the fire that she only rarely displayed would blaze out before being quickly extinguished.
In her arms, she felt Emma soften. “The flight was fine. It was just hard not being at camp when I knew you were here.”
Jamie’s fingers stilled. “I know what you mean. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“It really does.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re both here now.”
“Me too.” Emma kissed her cheek and then settled back against her. “It was fun seeing Meg.”
“Hope you don’t mind I let her be part of the welcoming committee. She was excited to see you.”
“She was?”
“I told you, she thinks you’re awesome. Spoiler alert—so do I.”
“I should hope so,” Emma said, her voice all haughty.
“Hey! You’re supposed to say I’m awesome too.” Jamie tickled her, feeling Emma’s squeal of laughter vibrate against her chest as she squirmed away.
“Stop it, Jamie! I’m serious!”
She relented, and they settled back together, chatting idly about camp, Meg’s house, Britt’s arrival, and Emma’s weekend in the San Juans. Jamie didn’t have anything new to report. The good thing about modern technology was that even when they were apart, it never felt like Emma was that far away. Training camp didn’t swallow them whole the way it used to when they were teenagers. Now there were cell phones with unlimited text and talk plans, cameras, email, and other apps that let them maintain the illusion of proximity from a thousand miles away.
That said, nothing beat the power of touch, Jamie thought, trying to memorize how it felt to ha
ve Emma pressed against her, their breath rising and falling in unconscious rhythm, her arm around Emma’s shoulders, Emma’s arm around her waist. This was what she had been missing since Tuesday morning when she’d forced herself to leave Emma and fly to Utah. This was what she needed to keep her grounded and centered at residency camp, where she was literally fighting for her soccer life. She needed Emma.
But was the same true for Emma? Jamie couldn’t be entirely sure, but she could hope. Maxwells were good at that.
She woke up, her arms around a still-dozing Emma, to the sound of cooing: “Come on cute girls, it’s almost curfew.”
Maddie’s touch on her arm was remarkably gentle, and Jamie blinked up at her sleepily, surprised to see the fondness in her expression. Emma wasn’t the only one with split person—er, multiple personas.
“Come on,” Maddie said again, moving away as Emma finally stirred. “Let’s get you home safe, Max.”
Jamie unfolded herself from the bed, missing Emma already. Maddie gave them a moment alone at the door, and Jamie gathered Emma into her arms one last time. “This sucks,” she said again, burying her face in her hair.
“Completely,” Emma agreed, hugging her so tightly that it almost hurt. Then she let go. “See you tomorrow, bean pole.”
Jamie was so tired from double sessions and the emotions of the day that the only comeback she could think of was, “See ya, grammar nazi.”
“I love you,” Emma added as she opened the hotel room door and pushed her gently into the hallway, fingertips lingering on her chest.
“I love you too,” Jamie murmured back. Then she forced a smile and turned away, heading back to her room where her hostile, Bible-banging roommate was no doubt awaiting her return with bated breath.
Could be worse, she told herself as she strode down the hotel corridor. Because, usually, it could.
Chapter Five
“What the hell?” Maddie demanded, her eyes fixed on the team captains. “Did you guys know about this ‘personal relationship management’ crap?”
Outside the Lines Page 10
