Page 21

On Monday morning, Maeve is nauseous with nerves.

Under Coach’s suggestions, Kira and Maeve had agreed to do some additional one-on-one alone, before the others join them for training, and Maeve’s been building anxiety about it all weekend.

It’s just going to be her and Kira this morning, no coach to lighten the tension between them or force professionalism.

She’s arrived at the facilities early, constantly smoothing her pristine ponytail.

She even wore make-up this morning, taking extra care with the mascara she barely ever uses, plucking her eyebrows and nicking her legs when she’d shaved.

But it’s stupid that she cares, when, of course, it’s not like they’re going to ever kiss again.

It’s not like Kira will even look at her, now that Maeve so thoroughly stated their rivalry after Kira had literally just hooked up with her.

‘Oh God,’ Maeve mumbles aloud to herself, her stomach twisting again at the thought of what a mess she’s made, as she approaches the entrance doors of the training facilities.

The worst of it is that she hasn’t even been able to speak to Adriana about it.

This past weekend was the first weekend Maeve and Adriana hadn’t seen each other at least once in ages .

Months, probably. Usually the only reason they don’t is if one of them is visiting their family or is on holiday, but even then, they’d be texting constantly, Adriana sending photos and Maeve a constant source of listening and calming her ups and downs of emotions.

Now it’s Maeve who needs the soothing, but Maeve found herself unable to bring herself to tell Adriana about what happened with Kira.

She tried, several times over the weekend, drafting different texts in her notes app, or her thumb hovering over calling her, or suggesting that they meet up for dinner instead because she did really want to tell her.

But then her stomach would twist at the thought of all Adriana’s questions, and her inevitable excitement about the prospect of Maeve and Kira as a ‘thing’ when that felt very much far from the case.

Maybe that was what was really stopping Maeve – not the thought of Adriana judging her for hooking up with her new teammate and rival on the pitch, but the liability of Adriana letting slip to the rest of the team in her giddy excitement at the thought of Maeve and Kira getting ‘officially together’.

Despite Adriana professing to not want ‘love’ herself, and that casual is the best and only kind of relationship she ever wants to be in, she always obsesses with her friends’ love lives.

It’s always been particularly feral with Maeve, perhaps because it happens so rarely.

Look at how Adriana behaved when she had the faintest hint that Kira and Maeve had a flirty energy that day – if she found out she had been right she would probably explode.

Adriana wouldn’t be able to stop herself from trying to get the two of them into a relationship, no matter how Maeve might protest that it wasn’t like that, and there would be no faster route to interminable awkwardness between Maeve and Kira.

And God, what if Hoffman found out? Not only would it feel awkward, like a parent discovering sex toys in your drawer, but she would presumably stop encouraging them from having one-on-one training together, and their unprofessionalism could result in not only the captaincy being permanently taken away from Maeve but maybe her being put on the transfer list. Would Coach want to discourage her protegee getting distracted, and think moving Maeve on would be the easy solution?

So Maeve had decided to keep it to herself, just until she had the opportunity to confirm things were settled down between her and Kira. Once things were back to normal (whatever that meant), she could reveal it to Adriana casually, safe in the knowledge it was already over.

But, even though Maeve does believe this is the most sensible thing to do, it still doesn’t feel good to keep something from her best friend. And she doesn’t have anyone else she can confide in.

So now Maeve paces the foyer, sipping and biting her nails to the quick, because Kira is late, and she worries she might not show.

Maybe Kira doesn’t care about it at all.

Maybe she’s a player, used to hooking up with strangers and leaving chaos in her wake.

Maybe she genuinely has no fear of catching feelings and just sees it as another satisfying thing to do with bodies, like playing football.

Maeve wishes she could be like that, care less about these things.

But the doors slide open, and there’s Kira. Her short hair’s messier than ever on top, and as Kira’s amber eyes meet hers she pushes it back from her forehead with a breeziness at odds with Maeve’s tension.

‘Murphy.’ She says coolly.

‘Choksi.’

Maeve and Kira give each other a curt nod, as per their ritual, like nothing else at all happened between them since the last time they were alone together.

‘Good weekend?’ asks Kira.

Despite her pounding heart, Maeve tries to seem nonchalant as she scans her ID card into the gates.

‘Mmm,’ Maeve nods, not wanting to admit that she just spent the two days wracked with worry and looping footage of Kira playing international matches, pausing the screen when Kira’s face was shown. ‘You?’

‘Eh,’ shrugs Kira. ‘It started off promisingly, but the weekend was a bit of a let down after what I got up to on Friday night.’

Maeve’s ears flush scarlet in surprise. As they stride down the corridor side-by-side, Maeve’s heart is racing.

‘Oh yeah?’ Maeve swallows. ‘What was that then?’

‘Well, I don’t mean to be unprofessional,’ says Kira, still with a poker face. ‘I don’t know how much your team share with each other about, you know, life outside the pitch.’

‘Try me.’

‘Well,’ Kira lowers her voice and leans into Maeve. ‘Basically, I hooked up with this incredible woman, and it was so hot I spent the whole weekend thinking about what else I’d like to do to her.’

Maeve makes an odd squeaking sound. Her flush is quickly spreading over her body.

‘Really?’ she says finally, her voice high pitched.

‘Yeah,’ Kira continues. ‘Very vivid. But sadly my imagination couldn’t live up to the real thing.’

They have got now to the doors of the team’s changing room. Kira opens the door politely for Maeve.

‘Do you… Do you think you’ll see her again?’ asks Maeve.

‘I don’t know,’ shrugs Kira. ‘I’d definitely like to, but, I guess we’ll see if she–’

The doors close behind them, Maeve takes in that the room is empty, and in the same second, pushes Kira against it and kisses her, hard. Kira moans her agreement into her mouth. Maeve can feel her smiling even as she kisses her back.

‘Thank God,’ Kira mutters, pulling her in closer.

Kira’s hands run over Maeve’s hair, her neck, her waist, and Maeve feels herself melting into her.

One brain cell remains, however, bringing Maeve back to reality.

Their teammates will be arriving in an hour, and she questions whether they should really be getting turned on when they’re meant to be practicing together.

‘Shouldn’t we be training?’ Maeve asks, staring at Kira’s mouth.

‘Who says we’re not?’ says Kira, seriously. ‘I think there are a lot of transferable skills.’

Kira’s thumb runs under Maeve’s top, tracing circles on the soft of Maeve’s side, making her shudder, and the one brain cell of resistance loses resolve.

‘That is true,’ says Maeve, as Kira kisses her neck. ‘What is it you’re meant to be practicing this morning?’

‘I believe I’m working on my touch,’ Kira runs her hands down Maeve’s back, squeezing her bum.

‘Maybe later,’ says Maeve, and grasps both of Kira’s wrists, pinning them behind Kira’s back. Kira grins in pleasure.

‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘It’s good for me to remember to use my whole body.’

Kira’s leg slides between Maeve’s, and Maeve presses herself harder against her. She’s so turned on, she would happily stay doing this all morning, but she has other priorities.

‘I believe that I’m meant to be practicing defensive clearing with head.’

‘I have been thinking a lot about what your head game might be like,’ Kira teases her.

‘Oh have you?’ says Maeve. ‘Thank you for caring so much about my performance.’

Though there’s a playfulness between them, it’s also charged with a burning desire. It makes Maeve’s nervousness melt away, and she feels instead the confidence and elation that she normally only gets on the pitch. Focus, intent, her body alive.

Maintaining eye contact, Maeve slowly and gracefully kneels down before Kira. Kira swallows and a moan escapes her throat before Maeve has even touched her.

Maeve lingeringly unknots the tie on Kira’s shorts, and pulls them down to the ground. She looks up at Kira in her boxers, her hands still dutifully held behind her back.

It finally feels like Kira’s completely at Maeve’s control, like she’d wish she would be in their competitions.

But then Maeve’s teasing at the band of Kira’s boxers, using her fingers, her tongue, and Kira’s moaning. She pulls down Kira’s pants, football is the last thing on her mind.

‘ Please can I use my hands now?’ whispers Kira. ‘I need to feel you.’

‘You only get one touch,’ Maeve says, still kneeling. ‘Use it wisely.’

Kira’s hand reaches down into Maeve’s hair, grasping the band of her ponytail, and twists deliciously hard.

All thoughts of plotting or competition evaporate.

Maeve is just lost in eating Kira out, wanting to make her lose some of that cool, wanting to draw out the sighs of pleasure that Kira had pulled from her.

Kira is panting, gripping her hair, and Maeve can tell she’s close, and Maeve’s both desperate to bring that for her, but also for the moment not to stop – when they hear noises on the other side of the door.

The chatter of the earliest teammates arriving and heading down the corridor, straight towards them.