I can be Rhea’s friend.
Her roommate.
She smiles at me, and the thought wavers just long enough for Boone to huff.
“What the fuck is that?” He laughs when I turn my head to him.
“It’s nothing,” I say with a shake and grab some more fries.
“If that’s nothing, I’d hate to see it be something,” he says. “She’s singing directly at you!”
“They’re just having fun, Boone. Fuck off,” I say to him, but he isn’t wrong. Rhea’s eyes are still glued to mine, and the smile on her face is bright as she sings the lyrics to one of my favorite Queen songs.Screwed. You are so very screwed.
“I should have seen this coming,” he hums.
“What?” I snap as he shovels more fries in his mouth.
He cleans his hands of salt, chews, and then points, “You would have a crush on the scariest Hillcat.”
She’s not scary.
“When did we start talking about Kaia?” I tease, and his face hardens.
“Sorry, the scariest Hillcat when Kai’s not in the room,” he corrects himself and forces a smile on his face. It’s been getting worse; the itch to start shit with Kaia’s boyfriend is coming to the surface more often than not. But Boone tries to be respectful of her choices, and only God knows why. From what I know of Kaia’s boyfriend, he’s a douche, works in the business sector, has never gotten his hands dirty in his life, nose is constantly stuck in his phone or someone else’s asshole.
I don’t care who Kaia dates; I just wish it didn’t hurt Boone so much to watch it happen.
“Go back to the kitchen, you animal. You’re getting salt everywhere,” I say, shoving him off the counter in an effort to ignore how the idea of having a crush made me feel.
Friends. Rhea and I arefriends.
My thighs are on fire, and my chest rises and falls in uneven lulls that do nothing to help me catch my breath. We rarely get outplayed on the field except for when we come face-to-face with the Northside Rugby Club. The NRC is a bunch of very fast, very nasty athletes who always put on their best show.
“Patty is going to go left, watch that lane,” Cosy says, her red braids in tatters from the rough game. Kaia is already bruising around the thigh where they caught her and slammed her down hard.
Kaia stomps twice in the dirt to get Sunday’s attention, and the two of them communicate without words. It’s second nature to them: when the ball leaves the opponent's hands, they both take off faster than anyone, weaving down the field. Kaia is on her tail and picks her up by the shorts just enough for Sunday’s fingers to reach the ball before the other winger. Once back on the ground, she spins to her right, knowing Patty is covering left, and kicks off that foot.
Cosy manages to get between Sunday and the oncoming attacker, slowing their route, opening a pocket—but leaving her right side completely open. She sees the player and whips back, popping the ball up and behind her into the open arms of Kaia.
“Easy!” Kaia screams, kicking her feet into motion and dodging the next attacker. Cosy, and I work hard to keep behind her as we follow Sunday up the flank, keeping separated enough that if Kaia runs into trouble, Sunday has the lane.
But the trouble is two yards out, and there’s no way she catches Kaia with how fast she’s moving. Kaia’s head flicks over her shoulder, and a wicked grin spreads across her face as she bunny hops between the posts and sets the ball down.
Cosy reaches her first, giving her a rough hug and grabbing the ball for the ref. With the conversion, it puts us three tries ahead, and the NRC looks pissed. There are still two minutes left on the running clock, and we move back into line as quickly as we can, itching to get one more try. If we rattle them today, it means they’ll start to waver in future games, and man, it feels like flying.
“Yukon,” Kaia yells, and Sunday sighs. “It’ll work,” she argues just as quickly as Sunday taps the ball and sends it flying through the air.
“It never works,” Sunday calls out, splitting the line into a crooked Y formation, leaving me in the back line to follow up. It blocks the team in from both sides, and as soon as they catch the ball, we’re all over them. One by one, they’re forced to lay the ball down or pass it out, and eventually there’s only Patty and me. One versus one, heading straight toward each other like two trains.
I press my tongue against my mouth guard, making sure it’s in place, and surge forward faster. The ball is tucked carefully under my arm. I know it’s a gamble that I’ll no doubt get yelled at for, but as Patty lunges for me, I drop my shoulder inside and lift with my knees. Her feet slide in the soft ground for no more than three seconds before she’s scrambling on her toes for purchase. I push harder, almost back to full height, and Patty grunts as her feet leave the ground. I’ve only got a few yards, and all I have to do is get the ball on the ground over the line.
I scream as my muscles stretch and flex beneath my skin, juggling her weight and my grip on the ball as I step forward faster. She’s trying to find the ground without letting go of her hold on me, but she’s too far off it to do anything for another six yards. I drop her suddenly, shifting right as she scrambles to keep her balance, clawing at me as I spin away from her and her teammate across the line with a hard thump as my body hits the ground to score the last try.
Everyone is screaming, and the girls pile on top of me, hollering and cheering as the whistle blows to end the game. The NRC girls shake our hands with long faces, Patty stopping briefly as she reaches me.
“You’re an animal,” she says with a smile. “Only you could pull that off,” she compliments, clapping her hand on my back as she starts to move again. Kaia is standing to my left with her shorts hiked up as far as they can go, her face contorted grossly as she pokes the red and purple bruise that seems to span her entire thigh.
“That’s going to be fun in the morning,” I say to her, fingering her shorts and tilting my head to get a better look at the bruise.
