CHAPTER TWO
Riley almost feels bad about Googling Willa when she gets back to her dorm, but she doesn’t quite get there before she’s submerged in facts and statistics and just in awe all over again. Courtney leans over her shoulder and makes a noise like a question mark in the back of her throat.
"Did you know she goes here?" Riley asks, trying to tamp down her excitement.
"Oh my God, you are totally crushing. This is like Corey Bayne all over again."
Corey had been nothing like Willa but also a lot like her- tall, athletic, goofy. For a semester Riley had been at every basketball home game, until she watched a cheerleader leave the sidelines and kiss him full on the mouth. The memory leaves a bad taste in her mouth and she frowns.
“Of course not. She was just, you know, my idol. Last year. Do you know how many goals she scored in her college career? Come on.”
“You’re blushing though,” Courtney points out, and Riley pushes air out through her nose.
“That’s just what my face looks like, Court.”
“I’m not judging you. She’s pretty.”
On the other side of the room Courtney must be clicking through Willa’s profile, or what she can see of it, and Riley pops her second ear bud in before she has to hear anything else. She’s not entirely surprised when Courtney chats her on Facebook.
-***
Courtney Lieb: i bet you she’d hook up with you if you wanted
Courtney Lieb: she wears a lot of plaid.
Riley Carlyle: that doesn’t mean anything
Riley Carlyle: and i never said i wanted to hook up with her
Riley Carlyle: and im working so leave me alone
Courtney Lieb: why is she wasting her time with a degree when she could be like
Courtney Lieb: playing for some bigass team
Riley Carlyle: shes not wasting her time
Riley Carlyle: i have a paper due at midnight
Courtney Lieb: that you started last week and finished on wed…..
Courtney Lieb: ill leave you alone im just saying
Riley Carlyle: dont say
Riley Carlyle: thanks
***
The air around then is thick whenever they're together. Willa is sure that she's the only one who notices it, and she tries not to, but the more times they hang out, in the gym or their diner after, the harder it gets to ignore. The two years and rivalry between them don't change how soft Riley's hair looks, or how big and blue her eyes are, or how, when they say goodbye out under the street lights, Willa has the urge to kiss her.
She resists it. But it's there. Whether Riley is gay or straight, interested or oblivious, it's there. She's lifting with Riley as her spotter when she slips up (or makes some headway, depending on what she considers to be her goal).
"I can't go to dinner tonight," Riley sighs, as if it's an engagement they've held for months and months rather than three weeks, "I have a paper due tomorrow so I have to go hole myself up in the library and suffer for a while."
Willa can't suppress a grunt as she lifts the barbell back into place.
"Suffer?"
"I hate the library."
It comes out vehemently, and Willa grins. She likes that, when Riley surprises her with bursts of passion like the passion she shows on the field.
"It's always crowded and people can't be quiet for five seconds even on a silent floor."
For a second Willa rests on the bench, watching Riley watch her upside down. There's an unsure little smile on Riley's face as if maybe Willa still makes her a bit nervous.
"I can let you into a conference room if you want," Willa blurts, "it'll be quieter. You can just, you know, come by while I'm working, and-"
"Yeah? I mean, is that allowed?"
Willa laughs. The nervousness fades out of Riley's smile and a pleased little blush fades in. Willa sits up and adjusts Riley's t-shirt where it's ridden up and exposed some of her stomach. She does it on instinct but she's glad she does, because Riley blushes harder. She thinks about toying with that some more just to see- because if she's ever had a feeling that someone was attracted to her, she's feeling it now- but she doesn't reach out again.
"I'll unlock it now and let you in if you want. If anyone bugs you just tell them I let you in."
"Thank you."
"Anytime, champ."
***
Two days later- Sunday- Riley shows up in jeans and with her backpack, and Willa doesn't even ask. She opens up the conference room that faces the reception desk with a cheerful smile and asks how her day has been. Riley feels like she blushes whether or not they make eye contact, and when Willa touches her shoulder she knows she's blushing just from how hot her face gets. She doesn't want to want her friend to touch her, but she's smart enough not to lie to herself. She wants Willa to touch her.
She wants to finish her damn paper.
***
Willa watches. The wall facing her is just windows, so she has an unobstructed view of Riley working, gold hair spilling onto the table, nimble little hands flipping through her reference books and tapping away at her Mac, face scrunched up in concentration. So maybe she has a crush. That's okay. She's an adult. She can handle it. She's not great at ignoring pretty girls, but she can handle it.
She tells herself that, anyway. There’s nothing better for her to do than watch, as far as she’s concerned, so that’s what she does, at first just stealing glances hoping she won’t get caught, and eventually, once it’s clear that Riley isn’t going to notice her, just observing, tapping her highlighter against her book instead of using it, occasionally buzzing people in. That whole time all she’s doing is watching. Trying not to think about sweeping Riley’s hair out of her face and touching her cheek and going in to kiss her, because that would be really stupid and far-fetched and not at all something her mind would come up with on its own. She’s dealing. She’s dealing.
She looks down and realizes too late that her highlighter has been open the whole time. Her textbook has little orange marks all over the page where she’s been tapping the marker. Willa takes it as a sign she should get her head out of her ass and get back to studying.
She gives lets herself look up every time she finishes a page. After the third one, Riley’s looking at her, and instead of getting embarrassed Willa waves, wiggling her fingers. Riley waves back for a split second before she ducks her head and goes back to her work, this time with a smile on her face that Willa could swear wasn’t there before.
***
“I’m coming for the Badgers game,” Quentin says, and Riley grins into the phone, as if he can see it.
“You are?”
“Hell yeah. I wouldn’t miss a rivalry game, and you know I take up any opportunity to watch you kick ass.”
“I always kick ass,” she teases him, but she’s got her pillow squeezed to her front and she misses him, “I kick ass every day of my life.”
“Does Courtney still have a crush on me?”
Riley glances across the room at her roommate, who’s got her feet up on the bed and her back against the floor, a book held upside-down in her hands and her eyes on the phone.
“Yes. And she’s still way too young for you, and that’s still gross. Hey, guess who goes here?”
Courtney sits up and chucks the textbook at Riley, who holds up the Quentin pillow to keep herself safe. Quentin’s reply comes muffled when she nearly drops the phone.
“Who?”
“Willa Carson. We work out together sometimes.”
Courtney mouths ‘work out’ and makes the sign of fingerquotes, but doesn’t make a move to get up and retrieve her book. It was a useless cover anyway.
“Is she not playing?”
“She’s getting her masters.”
Quentin falls quiet for long enough that Riley takes the phone away from her ear to make sure she hasn’t accidentally hung up on him.
“That kinda sucks.”
There’s a pamphlet for the business
school hidden under her binders on the desk. Nobody knows about it, but Riley glances at it then, guiltily. It’s not like she thought he would say anything different, and it’s not like the way Quentin thinks of Willa’s choice is the same way he’d think of hers, if she were to make it, but she still feels wrong, like she’s lying to him.
“I think it’s nice. It’s what she wants to do.”
Quentin laughs, and for a moment she wonders if he’s laughing at her.
“Nobody who plays like that wants anything but the field.”
She thinks about telling him it’s not always about what you want. She thinks about throwing out the business school pamphlet. She thinks about, for a second, what her life would be like if she couldn’t make it in the league, and where she’d be, and how she’d define herself.
“Maybe you’re right.”
But he doesn’t have to be. Willa’s started to show her that. Her future doesn’t have to be his future anymore. Life is easier for him- for a professional player, even one that isn’t groundbreaking- than it will ever be for her, no matter which choice she makes. But she doesn’t say that. She just tells him he might be right, and says goodnight, and fends off Courtney’s millionth request for Quentin’s number, and when she’s alone during Courtney’s shower she digs the pamphlet out and sticks it into the side of her gym bag without giving it a second look.
-***
It’s really not smart for Willa to go to the game. It’s really not smart for her to show up in a place where any of her former teammates and coaches and friends might see her and ask her how she is. She won’t know how to answer them other than to say she’s doing better than she expected to do, doesn’t know how to explain to them that she’s still discovering the fact that there’s a world outside the world of soccer, college or otherwise, and even though it’s not the world she would have said she wanted to live in two years ago, it’s a world she doesn’t regret choosing.
She’d just say “good” and they wouldn’t believe her. So she knows she should steer clear, especially given that she’s sure she’ll be cheering for Riley, but it’s one of her favorite parts of her week, and the season is winding up, and she’s not scared, so she goes. Since she’ll be sitting in the Home section she compromises and wears a Badgers hat to balance out her Silvers shirt. If the Badgers are looking for her, they won’t find her this way.
Riley does, though, when they come out for warm-ups. She jogs backwards like she’s looking for someone, and waves to someone else on the other side of the crowd before she sees Willa and waves again, all smiles. Willa’s not too embarrassed to wave back.
-***
It’s 1-1 at the end of the first. Riley’s team seems to be struggling a little bit, like there’s a communication breakdown, and Willa’s watched her get more and more frustrated the more she yells. All in all they’re not playing badly. Neither team has hit their peak yet, but both of them seem like they’re anxious to get there first. The coaches personify that. She remembers that feeling. She doesn’t miss it.
She’s grabbing a Coke from the concessions when someone finally recognizes her, and even though she expected it eventually, she doesn’t expect to turn around, prompted by a tap on her shoulder, to see a guy almost twice her size in a Silvers jersey with a beer in one hand.
“Quentin Carlyle,” he says, holding out his hand, “I hear you know my sister.”
Willa’s not often intimidated. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s felt this close to death. His hand is the size of a dinner plate, and she’s not sure if his sentence is an accusation or not, but it takes her a minute to realize that there’s no way he could possibly know how often she daydreams about kissing his sister.
“She’s a hell of a player,” she offers, and he laughs at her, turning his hat around forwards.
“She’s the best player in the family, no contest. She’s gonna be huge. She’s not thinking about it yet but I’d bet half my salary that she’ll get a national team call up one of these days.”
Willa nods, twisting the cap off of her bottle and drinking so that she has something to do with her mouth other than gush. He watches her too carefully for her to be able to relax.
“Do I make you nervous?”
She chokes.
“Rivalry game. You know- my first time being on the, uh, other side. Kind of worried someone’s going to recognize me and call me a traitor.”
“I don’t mean to make you nervous. I’m- I do that by accident sometimes. I’m really nice.”
She stares at him for a full ten seconds before she understands that he’s trying to flirt with her.
“You are,” she tries, and he smiles at her, and she prays for the next period to start.
“I am. Nice enough to, uh, offer you a seat closer to the field, if you want one.”
She takes the seat, but she doesn’t let him buy her a beer. She figures she’ll hate herself a little too much if she lets him buy her a beer and seat her close enough for her to see the glint in Riley’s eyes that gets her through the week.
***
As soon as the game restarts, Riley forgets everything else. When she's on the field there's no Quentin or Willa in the stands- there's no stands at all- just the ball and the opportunity to score. This is one of the best games they'll play all season, one of the only teams that can really challenge them, and Riley loves every second. In the second half of the period Courtney gets called hooking and they have a power play to kill. One of the Badgers breaks away and Riley is the only one fast enough to make it back and everything stops.
The lights change. She could swear that they dim and refocus, she can hear the blood in her ears and the thud of her cleats against the ground. The opposing player gets ready to score; her teammates are mostly covered, and in that moment there's nothing Riley would rather do. Fuck business school.
She lunges forward and thrusts her arms out to make herself bigger; the ball, which would have gone between her legs, hits her square in the chest. She can feel the impact and it stings but she comes up smiling. The crowd- now that she bothers to notice them- is screaming.
This time when they come off the field, Riley looks for Willa and can't find her.
***
"She's fucking fearless," Willa laughs, breathless and noticing it as she comes to her senses.
Quentin is looking at her funny. She feels a bit like she's coming down off of a high. Or an- well, a high.
"She learn that from you?"
"She taught that to me."
"Holy shit,” and she's laughing again. Her coke is mostly ice now and if he offered to buy her a drink again she's not sure she'd refuse as easily. She's grateful that he doesn't offer, even if he's still looking at her like she's way too into the game.
"I think this is gonna end in a tie."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Willa agrees, but she doesn't mean it. She knows better.
***
She sees them when she comes back on. She looks for Quentin and finds Willa first, laughing at something he said, him leaning onto the elbow he has resting on his knee, too close. Too close to her, chatting her up. Doing what Riley could never do.
What she still can't believe she would even want to do.
And it's not like she told him, and it's not like it matters, but Riley can feel the jealousy stir hot and low in her stomach, and recognizes the impulse to hit something. She wants a goal. She wants to shove her fist down the innocent Badger goalie's throat. She does it before anyone even has time to anticipate it.
The whistle sounds, she passes the ball to it to Hannah and runs faster and harder than she ever has in her life. One of her opponents trips her up, but not before she takes her shot. Not before she scores.
Hannah helps her to her feet and grabs her by the jersey and yells at her that she's fucking incredible and Riley's smiling again even before she sees Willa standing and screaming and Quentin raising his beer to her.
Whatever.
***
>
When the game is over- 3-1, courtesy of one Courtney Lieb, who Quentin proudly tells her has had a crush on her for three years- she gets up and stretches, fully expecting to go home and maybe run into Riley tomorrow.
"I'm gonna hang around because I'm taking Rilo out for dinner," he says, and Willa can't suppress a smile at the nickname, "will you come?"
And she says yes. Like the idiot she is, she says yes. And it's not even remotely for Quentin, and she feels horrible about it, but she does it anyway.
***
Riley's never been jealous of Quentin like this before in her life.
He's waiting outside for her like he said he'd be, but so is Willa, with her hands in her pockets. She jumps on him to hug him anyway and he spins her around like she's still five and it's still good to see him, even if she keeps remembering Willa's face when she was laughing at his joke. It's not his fault, and she has no right to be jealous.
Willa doesn't get a hug. For a second Riley thinks about it, then hesitates too long and just says 'hi'.
"That was a fucking incredible game," Willa says, echoing Hannah, and Riley blushes in spite of herself.
"Sorry."
"I'm not a Badger right now. Don't apologize to me, you were amazing."
Their eyes catch for a moment, Willa with that big stupid smile on her face and Riley smiling back and blushing, before Quentin breaks in and says, "that was so awesome," and the moment is ruined.
"Which part?"
She's kidding, and Willa is the only one to laugh. Riley tries to ignore the butterflies she gets from that laugh.
"The goal, obviously."
"Obviously. Are we going to dinner, or what?"
"Yeah, you and me and Willa."
Riley hesitates just a moment too long. Willa's face falls just a bit before she catches it and fixes her smile back up. Quentin furrows his brows, and Riley hikes her bag up onto her shoulder a little more securely.
"Is that okay?"
"Yeah, of course. Let me go drop my stuff in the dorm and I'll be back in five."
***
It gets way too quiet when Riley is gone. Willa tries to figure out the hesitation and the awkwardness and just can't quite make it work in her head. It's totally possible that Riley just wanted to hang out with Quentin alone, but that doesn't explain the awkward not-hugging. Quentin is looking at her funny, so she starts to speak, and they end up stumbling over the beginning of each other's sentences.
The Things She Kept Page 2
