Girls of Summer

by Kate Christie

  She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth as she moved through the familiar tai chi patterns, allowing the breath to expand her abdomen before tightening her muscles again on release. Energy buzzed in her fingertips each time she extended her hands away from her chest. That was how she knew she was doing the movements correctly. As relaxation flowed through her, she wondered if she even needed to trick her brain with chocolate to make tai chi part of her daily routine.

  Wait—why would she pass up the opportunity to eat sweets that had been pre-approved by the USWNT fitness coach? Looked like a visit to Trader Joe’s really should be in her near future. Ellie would be happy to come along, and maybe she would even let Jamie treat her to a stack of chocolate bars. It was the least Jamie could do, given Ellie’s help over the past year and a half.

  Almost as if Jamie had conjured them, steps sounded overhead. Probably Jodie getting ready for a pre-work run. As Jamie headed for the shower, she reflected that she owed her soon-to-be former roommates so much more than a stack of chocolate bars. Whether or not they would ever let her repay their kindness, however, remained to be seen.

  Chapter Two

  “Wow,” Emma said, staring up at the cream stucco edifice. The natural wood door was so polished it shone, while the concrete foundation and stone and wooden accents had been painted a deep, rich brown. The overall effect was of an older, very well-tended building.

  “I know, right?” Jamie said from beside her, cheeks pink and eyes bright as she lifted a box marked “misc.” out of her car. She was practically preening—or at least as close to preening as Emma usually saw her. On the soccer field she always had a bit of a swagger, but in real life, she was typically less assuming. “Could you get the door, though?”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  Emma unlocked the glass-plated front door with the keys Jamie handed her. Then she grabbed an unmarked box from the double-parked hatchback and joined Jamie inside her new building.

  “Sorry, there’s no elevator,” Jamie said as she led the way to the stairwell.

  “That’s it, I’m out,” Emma joked as she followed Jamie up the narrow stairway.

  “Are you, though?” Jamie asked, smirking at her.

  “After Champions League, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance.”

  Emma still occasionally woke up in the middle of the night kicking herself for wearing a replica jersey with Jamie’s name on it to Arsenal’s last game. She was a United fan; how could she not regret the momentary lapse in judgment? But so far, her plan to stay off most social media platforms (as the national team’s PR manager had advised) seemed to be working. There may have been a meltdown of epic proportions on Tumblr or Twitter after Arsenal’s match in Lyon. If so, Emma was none the wiser. Her stress and anxiety levels dropped a little bit more every week she stayed offline. Good timing, too, given the upheaval the World Cup was guaranteed to bring.

  Jamie’s apartment was even nicer than the building’s exterior. A large corner unit on the third floor with a view of the Thorns stadium and downtown, the space possessed the sort of vintage charm Emma suddenly realized her own recently constructed condo lacked. The wood floors looked like actual hardwood instead of the ever-present laminate, the ceilings were high with intricate crown molding and classic light fixtures, the kitchen cabinets were white and classic in design, and the large windows in the living room and bedroom let in plenty of light. The bathroom tub was deep, the tiling and sink newer but vintage in style just like the kitchen. Emma’s favorite feature, though, was the huge walk-in closet with built-in drawers and shelves.

  “There’s also a hall closet,” Jamie told her. “And a corner closet, too. Oh, and the manager said there’s a wine nook in the kitchen.”

  “I’m impressed,” Emma admitted, gazing around. “And maybe even a little jealous.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “No, I’m serious. First apartments in big cities are rarely this nice.”

  “It isn’t exactly my first apartment, Emma, and London is bigger than Portland, you know.”

  Emma lifted a brow and stared at Jamie, wondering why she was being defensive. Then she remembered that Jamie had been sleeping in their mutual friend’s guest room for the past year while Emma owned a condo in one of Seattle’s most expensive neighborhoods. The defensiveness actually made perfect sense.

  “Anyway,” Jamie added, turning away to stand at the windows that overlooked the soccer stadium, “it’s pretty nice, isn’t it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Emma said, and crossed the room, her trainers noiseless against the wood floor. “And so are you.” She slid her arms around Jamie’s waist from behind, pulled her closer, and leaned up to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for inviting me for your first night here.”

  Jamie’s arms folded over hers, holding her securely in place as she leaned back into Emma. “Thanks for being here.”

  They stood quietly like that for a few minutes, listening to the sounds from West Burnside a couple of blocks away, and Emma was quietly, peacefully happy.

  “Just one thing,” she said. “Where exactly are we going to sleep?”

  “Oh, we’re not sleeping here tonight,” Jamie said, laughing.

  “Thank god. I’m pretty sure my old lady back couldn’t take camping out on the floor.”

  She had driven down to Portland immediately after her game that afternoon—her last Reign game before World Cup residency camp. On Monday, she and Jamie would leave for Carson via Berkeley, where they would spend a night with Jamie’s parents on their way down the coast to Southern California. After a short training camp in Carson, the team would head north to San Jose for a game against Ireland in the first of three World Cup send-off matches. Jamie was thrilled that she would get to play in front of her family and friends, especially now that she was officially a member of the national team, and Emma was thrilled for her. She only hoped the Irish bitc—player who had broken Jamie’s ankle two and a half years earlier wouldn’t get any ideas.

  Though if Emma did somehow end up with a red card, at least she would return from suspension in time for the final send-off match in New York. Priorities, obviously.

  “I thought we could go furniture shopping tomorrow,” Jamie told her, moving a few steps away to lean against the kitchen counter and type something into her phone. “It looks like there’s a bunch of places within walking distance. Although, I guess if we’re going to buy a bed, we should probably borrow VB’s truck. I’ll text her. I think she said she isn’t flying out until Tuesday.”

  “So, we’re buying a bed, are we?” Emma asked, closing the distance again.

  Jamie glanced up from her phone, eyes widening as she took in Emma’s half-lidded stare. “Um, yeah?”

  “Good.” Emma grasped Jamie’s belt buckle firmly. “Because I, for one, would like to break in your new apartment properly.” She leaned in slowly, enjoying the audible gulp she drew from her girlfriend, and placed a kiss on the soft skin behind her ear. “I mean, assuming you don’t mind.”

  “I wouldn’t say I mind, exactly,” Jamie said, and pulled Emma closer the better to kiss her.

  Hmm, Emma thought as Jamie’s hand slipped inside her T-shirt. Maybe they didn’t need that bed, after all.

  #

  “What about this one?” Ellie asked, flopping onto a queen-sized mattress with a frame that looked like it might collapse under her weight.

  Emma saw Jamie wince and turn away. With a slight glare at Ellie, Emma followed suit. She reached for Jamie’s hand and tugged her closer. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quiet so that their fellow shoppers wouldn’t hear.

  Jamie glanced back at the bed where Jodie was now lying with her head on Ellie’s shoulder while Jordan VanBrueggen and Ainsley Meyer, another Thorns player who had hovered just at the edge of the national pool for years, were testing a rustic four-poster frame that probably cost more than Jamie’s car had.

  “This place isn’t really what I had in mind.
” Jamie waved at the cavernous warehouse that had been converted into a high-end furniture gallery featuring organic mattresses and live-edge furniture. “Isn’t there a United Furniture Warehouse or something around here?”

  Jamie said the store name in a sing-song tone that Emma recognized as part of the chain’s jingle, and she couldn’t help laughing. But Jamie didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

  “Super observant of you,” Jamie said, and stalked away.

  “What’s her deal?” Jordan asked, appearing at Emma’s elbow.

  “She’s got sticker shock, doesn’t she?” Ainsley put in. “This stuff is crazy expensive.”

  “No, there’s just a lot to do before we leave,” Emma said, and followed Jamie to the living room section of the gallery.

  Jamie was standing beside an elegant desk, running her hand over the wood surface that, according to a sign, had been fashioned from a city tree that had come down during a wind storm. She looked up as Emma neared. “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For being an ass.”

  “You kind of were, weren’t you,” Emma agreed.

  “Hey!”

  “What? You said you wanted honesty from here on out, so…”

  “I can’t believe you would bring that up right now.” But she was half-smiling as she said it.

  Emma drifted closer and set her hand on top of Jamie’s. “Do you want me to buy this desk for you? It could be an apartment-warming gift.”

  “Jesus, Emma.” Jamie had started to soften, but now she straightened again and pulled her hand away. “You know what? I’ll be outside.”

  Again, Emma watched her walk away, but this time she didn’t follow. Instead, she headed back to where their friends were still jumping on beds like the overgrown children they were.

  One look from Emma and Ellie extricated herself. “What’s wrong? Where’s Jamie?”

  “Outside. I think she wants to try a different store.”

  “Really? I totally thought this stuff would be up her alley.”

  “I don’t think the furniture is the issue.” Emma hesitated. Jamie wouldn’t mind her telling Ellie, would she? “The prices, on the other hand…”

  Ellie literally slapped her forehead. “Crap! I’m such an idiot.”

  “No, I know. Me, too.”

  Ellie ushered the others together, and soon they were headed across town again, Jamie leading the way this time to a mattress shop whose name contained the word “Superstore.” Jamie seemed more at ease as she browsed the impressively large selection. By lunchtime, she’d ordered a mattress and mission-style frame that was simple but tasteful, and she’d even found matching nightstands in her price range. Jodie and Ellie were storing a couch she’d bought from one of their neighbors, along with a dresser, two bookshelves, and a kitchen table she’d found on Craigslist. For now, she announced, she should be set. The final decorative touches could wait until they were back from Canada.

  After lunch at Ainsley’s favorite vegetarian restaurant, they backtracked to Ellie and Jodie’s house to load VB’s extended cab pickup, a hand-me-down from her parents. It didn’t take long to maneuver Jamie’s furniture and boxes of books and papers outside onto the sidewalk in front of Ellie’s house. Her athletic bags, backpacks, and luggage were already in her car, accompanied by a couple of trash bags of shoes and jackets. She wore them all, she insisted when her Thorns teammates teased her about the overflowing garbage bags.

  The main moving challenge was getting the multiple team captains in the group to agree how to fit the accumulated furniture into the back of the truck. Finally, VB announced that since it was her truck, she would make the final decision. This resonated with everyone else, although it didn’t prevent snarky comments and less-than-subtle smirks when VB’s packing sense revealed its imperfections. But they finally managed to fit the last of the dining chairs into the truck bed, and the caravan of friends and movers was off.

  Unfortunately, finding street parking in Jamie’s new neighborhood was no easy feat. Emma had volunteered to drive Jamie’s car, and as she circled the block for the fifteenth time (okay, maybe it was only the third), she vowed to look up parking space rental rates in the area. Jamie may not want to spend her newly acquired income on such a luxury, but Emma had no such qualms. 2015 was a major tournament year, so they would be together more often than not. Same with 2016 and the Summer Olympics. But if they were still playing on separate NWSL teams in 2017, Emma wasn’t about to waste time looking for parking when it was her turn to make the road trip.

  To be honest, Emma had fantasized more than a few times about trying to convince the league to trade Jamie to Seattle, even though she wasn’t sure how Jamie would feel about such a trade. Emma would have considered moving to Portland, but the STP rivalry is REAL, y’all, and she was a native Seattleite, so that wasn’t a realistic option. Then again, the Thorns played in a professional stadium where they led the league in attendance while the Reign averaged less than half Portland’s attendance figures in a stadium that felt like a World War Two bunker. Actually, that was pretty accurate, Emma thought, given that Memorial Stadium had been built in 1948. They didn’t have changing facilities or showers on site, and add in the fact that the playing surface didn’t meet US Soccer’s professional league standards…

  Clearly, if Emma was smart, she’d try to get traded to Portland—assuming Jamie even wanted her to. But that was a conversation that could wait until after the World Cup. Even, possibly, after the Olympics.

  By the time she found a spot two blocks away and hoofed it back to Jamie’s building, she’d missed much of the unloading process. Jamie and VB were in the truck bed as she approached, each at one corner of the queen mattress, while Ellie and Ainsley were standing at the rear of the double-parked truck, arms outstretched, ready.

  “Hey,” Jodie said, nodding at Emma from the curb where she stood, phone in hand.

  Ellie’s fiancée was seldom without her phone. Emma was tempted to share the power of unplugging with Jodie—you feel so free, and mentally healthy, and less stressed!—but at the last moment recognized the proselytizing urge for what it was.

  “Hey,” she said instead, drifting to a stop beside Jodie. “Street parking sucks.”

  “It really does. I somehow forgot about all the countless hours I wasted circling the block before I moved in with Ellie.”

  “Selective memory, which most definitely does not suck.”

  Jodie flashed her a sideways smile and went back to her phone.

  “A little help here?” Jamie asked, eyebrows rising as she glanced at Emma.

  Her tone was more than a little hassled, and Emma momentarily considered turning around and walking away. Fred Meyer on Burnside would be deliciously cool inside, and she could use a smoothie right about now. But she only sighed long-sufferingly, straightened up, and muttered just loud enough for Jodie to hear, “I’m not the one without a designated parking space.” Lifting her voice, she added, “Whatever might I do to assist thee, Lord Maxwell?”

  “Ha ha.” Jamie nodded at the dining room chairs sitting on the sidewalk. “Those aren’t going to move themselves.”

  Emma wasn’t entirely sure she was going to move them, either. But then she took another look at Jodie, who was on her phone pointedly ignoring the exchange. Better to deal with cranky Jamie than be lumped into the useless girlfriend category. Without another word, she picked up all four chairs and headed inside Jamie’s building through the propped-open front door.

  “Careful!” she heard Jamie call, her voice alarmed.

  Whatever. Emma could bench press Jamie. Or, high school Jamie, anyway.

  On the second floor landing, Emma’s bravado abruptly deserted her as she faced another set of stairs with the awkwardly arrayed chairs. They weren’t heavy, and two would have been a cinch. But four in Portland’s early summer heat? Ah, silly pride. Definitely coming back to bite her in the—

  “Whoa,” a laughing voice said from behind
as she tried to rearrange the chairs and nearly fell over. “Need some help there?”

  She blew her hair away from her forehead and glanced over her shoulder to see a guy and girl about her age emerging from the second floor hallway. “Actually, yeah. Thanks.”

  The pair moved a few steps toward her, hands outstretched. Emma sensed the moment the guy recognized her—it wasn’t difficult, since he froze, hands still half-extended toward the chairs that were probably leaving permanent dents in her hands by now.

  “Babe, what…?” The woman trailed off, her eyes going wide as she followed his gaze, locked onto Emma’s face. “Holy shit. You’re Emma Blakeley!”

  Emma reached deep and mustered a semi-professional smile, quelling the panicky knee-jerk reaction at being spotted in Jamie’s new building. She was unplugged, remember? Free, mentally healthy, less stressed. And about to drop Jamie’s chairs on their apparent fans. Actually, Jamie’s fans. They were in Portland, after all.

  “Does that mean you’re not going to help?” Emma asked. “I promise, I’m friends with the Thorns players off the field…”

  Both of her would-be rescuers leapt forward as if poked with a cattle prod, and Emma hid a smile as they relieved her of one chair each—predictably, the guy tried to take two, but Emma rebuffed him firmly—and accompanied her up the final flight to Jamie’s apartment. The front door was held open by the extended bolt, and Emma heard the couple murmuring to each other as they kicked their shoes off before following her into the dining area. There, they set the chairs down beside the two she’d carried, glances curious as they took in the half-empty apartment.