The Things She Kept

by Rosalie Marie Whitton

  But that doesn’t necessarily make her wrong.

  Riley knows that she’d much rather spend her life playing soccer than studying accounting, or doing anything else in the world, and if it were only a question of what she wanted to do she would have closed her laptop hours ago. The ‘but’ nags at her, making her pick at her cuticles until they bleed and she has to blot them with tissues- but if she doesn’t get called in this summer, she’s going to spend it miserable and wondering if she’ll be drafted well when it comes time. If she doesn’t get drafted well, she’ll stop playing after however many years in a league that won’t and can’t pay her, and have nothing to do and nowhere to go but home to her parents.

  Over the next hour and a half Willa texts her again twice, Courtney gets out of bed, takes a shower, and disappears, and Riley resorts to repainting her nails.

  The last time Willa texts her, Riley closes her eyes and tries to imagine Willa the moment she’d opted out of the draft, and she can’t. There’s no part of her that can fathom how Willa could ever have thought she wasn’t good enough to play for a living. She tries to remember the look on Willa’s face when she admitted it, at the diner when she had talked about it, and it comes back so vividly it has to be mostly a projection of her own feelings. Still, the image of Willa’s hurt and her regret so sharp in the lines of her face and in her eyes and in her shoulders- that’s what makes her do it. She slams the laptop shut and bursts into confused tears that doesn’t stop until she’s fumbling to unlock the door to her car.

  ***

  Riley shows up after not answering texts for two hours, and Willa isn’t fully dressed when she checks the door. She was planning on going out and getting something to eat for herself, since Riley wasn’t answering her; when she opens the door she’s in jeans and hastily tucking in a half-buttoned flannel. She gets half of a ‘hey’ out of her mouth before Riley’s launched herself through the door.

  It takes Willa a full two or three seconds to get her wits about her and kiss back. She’s not at all understanding what’s going on, but Riley’s kissing her and at the moment that’s really all she can or is willing to think about. She wraps her arms around Riley’s waist and kicks the door closed.

  By the time Riley drops down off of her tiptoes again, the collar of Willa’s shirt is rumpled from her grip and she’s forgotten that it’s half-unbuttoned.

  “I didn’t do it,” Riley says, out of breath and almost smiling, “also I think I’m falling in love with you, probably.”

  Willa makes sense of the second part first and splits her face into a grin so wide it hurts. For a second, with Riley holding on to her, smiling up at her, she’s pretty sure she’s going to just self-immolate and die, and also pretty sure that would be entirely okay with her. When Riley’s smiles starts to falter a little she remembers that she’s supposed to actually say out loud what she’s thinking, here, and leans down for a hug that presses them as tightly together as she can manage.

  “Probably is good enough for me,” she says, and Riley hiccups out a laugh, “but I’m totally sure.”

  Somehow the hug morphs into something else. Somehow Riley moves her hand, like for a second she’s going to try and push Willa away, except what actually happens is that her hand slips inside the unbuttoned part of Willa’s shirt and rests against her ribs, and when Willa pulls back to look at her she looks down instead and uses her other hand to untuck the bits of the shirt Willa had managed to get into her pants before she answered the door.

  Both her hands go to the buttons, fumbling her way up until Willa stops her at the last one and makes her look up. There’s no nervousness in Riley’s face, which is surprising even before Willa asks, “are you sure?”

  And in answer all Riley does is pop the last button and lean up on her tiptoes for another kiss.

  ***

  Willa cups Riley’s face in her hands and leans down so that Riley doesn’t have to lean up, and Riley’s hands are on her sides again within seconds. She’s self-conscious, knows that they’re cold and that this is sudden, but it doesn’t stop her from finally letting herself touch Willa’s abs the way she’s wanted to since she knew they were there, and if Willa grins against her lips it’s just a bonus and not where her focus is.

  She’s not focusing on much other than her hands before Willa’s leave her face, and then she has about a split second to reorient herself before Willa lifts her and it’s all she can do to get her arms around Willa’s neck as she’s pushed back against the door. The kiss is desperate and takes the breath out of her until her lungs are aching and she has to tilt her head back; Willa doesn’t seem to have an issue because she immediately latches on to Riley’s neck. Riley can’t see anything, though, which is not how she wants this to go, even if she’s enjoying pressure of Willa keeping her up against the door.

  “Bed,” she murmurs, and Willa laughs against her collarbone, “couch, something.”

  Willa hoists her a little higher so that her legs are wrapped around her waist and Riley gasps at the sensation of falling before she gets it, then laughs at herself and presses their foreheads together. She’s expecting to get tossed onto the bed but Willa lowers her like she’s afraid of breaking her, settling with her hips between Riley’s legs and braced on one hand while she shrugs out of the other arm of her shirt.

  Riley loses track for a while. For a while- while it’s just kissing, and their shirts coming off, and Willa maybe purposely tickling her a little bit- she forgets that this is going to be any different than it has been, and when Willa sits up and pops the button on her jeans, she remembers all at once with a jolt of adrenaline so sharp that she must make some kind of noise, because she gets a look again.

  “I need you to be sure,” Willa says. There’s lip gloss on her mouth that’s not her shade at all. Something about it is comforting, something about the sincerity in her eyes and the softness of her, even with her shoulders as broad as they are, even with her hands as big as they are. This isn’t like being with a boy at all. Riley’s not sure she was ever really sure with boys the way she’s sure about this. None of that comes out. She just says “yes,” surprised at how it sounds coming out of her mouth- sexy, even- and Willa hooks her fingers into belt loops and tugs.

  ***

  For the first and only time in her life Willa wishes she’d slept with a guy at some point. She doesn’t know at all what Riley’s expecting or what she’s used to or what she likes, and there’s a few seconds where Willa truly thinks to herself, ‘this would be so much easier if I weren’t gay’, and then she realizes how stupid it is and has to try not to laugh at herself. She’s just tossed Riley’s pants away and definitely does not need Riley to think she’s being laughed at, because she’s not.

  She is definitely not.

  Willa sits back on her heels and slides her hands from Riley’s ankles all the way up her legs, leaning forward incrementally until she can go in for a kiss. Riley slips a hand into her hair, which is something Willa has come to understand she only does when she’s really comfortable, but she’s wriggling, and her free hand is gone just long enough for Willa to notice until she realizes that Riley’s getting her own underwear off, and then all the blood in her head goes south and she forgets how coherent thought works.

  It’s not as difficult as she made it out to be. It’s not difficult at all, and it’s like Riley really doesn’t even need to adjust or anything, it just works. Like the two of them have always worked. Riley’s hand clamps around her upper arm and Willa can tell just from her breathing that she’s trying to keep quiet, which isn’t going to last. To help her along she finds that sweet spot below Riley’s left ear that she knows will make her let that held breath go, and it comes out on a sound Willa swears- to whatever God there ends up being- is her favorite sound in the world, above goals, crowd game chants, and that one song she can never remember the name of.

  She makes it her goal to hear that sound as many times as she can, and finds ways to accomplish that that don�
�t just involve her mouth. It takes a little while to figure out what Riley wants, since she’s not exactly talking, but she’s talking in her own way, and Willa’s a good ‘listener’, and it isn’t that long at all, all things considered, before Riley’s nails are digging into her bicep and her shoulder and she has to slow down to draw it out with Riley shaking all around her, clinging and shaking and panting. It’s exactly right. It’s exactly the way it should be.

  ***

  “Listen,” Willa mutters into her neck, the hand that’s not holding her up resting comfortably on Riley’s hip, “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I’m starving.”

  Thinking is still difficult. Riley wrinkles her nose.

  “For like- for food. I texted you a while ago to see if you wanted tacos or something, Thai, Chinese, whatever.”

  “You want lunch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want,” Riley detaches Willa from her neck to make eye contact, “me to put clothes back on and take you out to eat.”

  “Yes,” Willa agrees, “but the clothes part is optional, I guess, if that’s what you’re into.”

  If she thought things were going to change she was mistaken. She shoves at Willa’s shoulder but she can’t keep from laughing, and Willa laughs at her trying not to laugh, and even she has to admit that food sounds pretty good, ruined moment and all.

  ***

  The first time she sees Quentin after their failed pseudo-date is two days after Riley’s decision not to take the extra semester, five before summer school applications are due, and a week before the national team camp’s call ups. She doesn’t realize how much he knows until Riley leaves them alone for a second to get Courtney, because of course she wants to say hello. It’s awkward to be alone with him again. It’s partially awkward because the last time they were alone he tried to kiss her, but it’s mostly awkward because Willa’s jacket collar barely hides a hickey at her collarbone that Riley put there maybe twenty minutes ago, with great care.

  “Quentin might see,” Willa had warned her, and Riley had sat up just to answer her: “So he’ll see.”

  But she doesn’t want to have that conversation yet. There are more important things to talk about.

  “She told me you convinced her not to do it.”

  Willa shrugs, hands deep in her pockets.

  “She didn’t really want to. It didn’t take much.”

  “I couldn’t do it,” he says, “I think she thought if you couldn’t make it, nobody could.”

  “It’s not that I couldn’t, just that I didn’t,” she answers, but she’s really trying not to sound defensive. She’s not sure who she’s defending, though. She has a suspicion it might be Riley and not herself.

  “I didn’t mean-”

  “All it took was someone other than a family member to tell her she was good enough. Not that it’s not, you know, super important- that you guys are supportive, because you are and that’s awesome, but it’s different when it’s someone outside your support system.”

  “It’s different when it’s your idol,” he corrects her, looking across the parking lot. She blushes a little bit, but he’s not going to see, of course. He won’t see the hickey either, because he can’t seem to look directly at her. She tugs at the collar of her jacket anyway and clears her throat.

  “I’m worried about her,” she blurts, praying that Riley will get there any second and rescue her from saying anything else. She feels obligated to though, obligated to share this with someone else who cares about what decision Riley makes, about where she goes and who she becomes.

  “I mean, I’m afraid she’s going to choose to stay here over the summer instead of go to camp, if she gets called- when she gets called- and psych herself out before her senior year. I don’t want her to burn herself out. I don’t want her to- to opt out of the draft just because I did. Just because I’m here.”

  Now Quentin looks at her, and it’s her turn to find something to study very carefully.

  “You think she’d do that?”

  “I hope not.”

  “You think she’d give up her career for you?”

  It ought to be an accusation. Coming from anyone else it would be, and if Willa tries she can imagine animosity in Quentin’s voice, but she knows it isn’t there. He’s just curious. It’s her that turns it into an accusation.

  “I think she’d use me as an example and an excuse if she could, maybe. Because staying here and getting a boring job in a cubicle is safer than finding out whether or not she’s good enough to make it on the field. And she’s scared because she’s not sure that she’s good enough.”

  “But she is good enough.”

  “Yeah,” Willa agrees. Riley appears around the corner with a blushing Brianna in tow, and Willa’s shoulders sag in relief knowing the conversation is over. It’s too soon for relief, though. They’re still a hundred yards away when he asks her the kicker.

  “Well, do you love her?”

  The blood rushes from Willa’s head straight to her feet and she tugs at her collar again. Some panicked part of her decides it’ll be best if she just pretends that she didn’t hear him. He’s not even supposed to know- not that they’ve been particularly secretive- and she doesn’t have the faintest clue how Riley would want her to answer him. She makes a quiet little question mark noise in the back of her throat and wishes Riley would start running or something. Quentin nudges her with his shoulder.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  It’s an answer in and of itself, in a way. It at least tells him that question makes sense, which tells him that they’re together, which Willa figures Riley will probably kill one of them for. They’re too close by the time Willa gets her wits about her enough to try and answer, so she stops trying and puts a happy face on for Riley.

  Brianna hugs Quentin before she even says ‘hi’. Riley stands by Willa, close enough for their sides to touch, smiling that awkward little teeth-to-lip smile that she does when she’s uncomfortable. The hood of her sweatshirt is tucked into the back of her jacket. Willa readjusts it.

  Riley looks up at her the smile changes into something genuine.

  ***

  The second time is different. The second time is that night, after Quentin leaves.

  Willa drives Brianna and Riley back to campus, and Quentin drives off to his hotel. At the roundabout Brianna gets out and waits for Riley, and Riley hesitates just long enough to make it clear what she’s trying to say. Willa’d had no idea that anyone knew anything about them, but Brianna clearly does, because she just looks between the two of them and says, “use protection,” before disappearing around the corner of the dorm.

  “She guessed,” Riley says, at Willa’s raised eyebrow, “I didn’t say anything to her, I swear.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Willa replies gently, “I’ve always been really- I dunno. Open, about it.”

  “I’m not gay,” Riley says then, like it’s a revelation.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “But I liked- I...I like kissing you.”

  Willa laughs, reaching to put the car in park.

  “I know.”

  She turns to look at Riley, who watches her for a long moment, quiet as if she’s thinking incredibly hard about a decision she doesn’t really have to make. Willa has nothing more to say so she doesn’t say anything else. Eventually Riley reaches over and puts her hand on top of Willa’s on the gearshift.

  “I wanna go back to your place,” she says, then blushes as if she’s realized what she’s asking and adds, “if that’s okay.”

  “Definitely okay.”

  ***

  It’s more than okay. This time she uses her hands for something other than holding on, sliding them along Willa’s sides and stomach, and this time she gets a sound out of Willa that makes her want to know what she’s doing right. It’s all a rush of barely-off clothes and hushed smiles until she gets a hand into Willa’s jeans, and
then Willa’s eyes flicker dark and her mouth opens but nothing comes out. Riley hesitates, unsure how to ask whether she’s alright to keep going, and then suddenly Willa reaches down and yanks down her jeans and underwear and practically throws them half across the room. Riley cracks up, hiding her smile in Willa’s neck, and Willa doesn’t even seem to be able to make fun of her for it.

  She doesn’t bother getting Willa’s shirt off, just open so she can kiss her skin. She’s too much shorter to do anything other than kiss along Willa’s chest and collarbones while her hand is busy between her legs, but Willa is so sensitive- not that Riley knows, really, what the difference would be- that it doesn’t take long before Willa has a hand in her hair and one clenched into her sheets, her head thrown back, Riley’s name coming off her lips in a hoarse whisper that makes Riley’s entire body shake.

  Afterwards she can hardly believe she’s done anything at all, even with one of Willa’s knees between hers and only one of her hands available to keep her up and Willa’s hands cupping her shoulders. Willa doesn’t open her eyes or say anything for a while. She just breathes a lot, pressing her fingertips to the tops of Riley’s shoulders, until Riley panics through the haze of her- of whatever it is Willa makes her feel. Insanity, maybe, considering that her hand’s still between Willa’s legs.

  “Are you okay?”

  Willa laughs, but it’s a sound Riley’s never quite heard before. She takes Riley’s hand from between her legs and knots their fingers together against the bedspread, leaning up at the same time to peck Riley’s nose, a gesture so incoherently out-of-line-affectionate compared with what they’ve just been doing that Riley, despite her growing confidence, blushes pink.

  “Very okay. I taught you well.”