by K J
“Right,” Dominic barked. “So, welcome back, blah, blah, blah. Same as last time. Craig is your coach.” He tossed a hand at the blonde man beside him, who grinned. Sophie had a lot of time for Craig. He was totally committed to the women’s competition and he was always the first to advocate for equality. Bet he’s pissed at the no-pay issue. Making a note to chat to him later, Sophia’s gaze moved on to a slim woman with brown curly-hair and black-rimmed glasses, who lounged casually in the seat, one jeans-clad leg crossed over the other. Her eyes were scanning the room. Suddenly, those eyes locked onto Sophia’s, and it seemed that a little flash, like a challenge or perhaps a pinch of disdain, registered in her brown eyes. Sophia blinked first. “And this is Cam Weathers, the reporter from The Post. She’s gonna be following some of you around and writing articles about your daily lives.” Dominic stared at Cam, who raised an eyebrow, and with that single gesture, Sophia assessed her as someone who would not tolerate any bullshit. Good. Cam dropped her foot and straightened in the chair.
“Right. Well, thank you for that lovely welcome.” Sophia heard the snark in her reply. Yep. No bullshit. “So, hello everyone. As Dominic mentioned, I’ve been asked to write a series for The Post about the players from South Melbourne. I’ll be choosing one player a week and during that time I’ll visit your workplace, interview you here at the club, attend a training, and then watch the game.” Her voice was pleasant, like an easy-listening radio host.
“What team do you go for?” Hara, another young rookie, piped up from the other side of the room. Cam blinked.
“Uh…well, I support all women’s sport as…” she faded off. Sophia shook her head, snorted loudly, and Cam flashed those eyes again.
“You don’t know anything about footy, do you?” Sophia asked incredulously, and Dominic quickly interrupted.
“Well, Cam is here to report on you girls—”
“Women.” Sophia and Cam snapped out the word simultaneously, and blue eyes locked onto brown. Cam gave a tiny head tip in acknowledgement.
“Women, in all areas of your daily life, not just what you get up to on the field.” He sucked in air at the corners of his mouth. “She’ll get the hang of the rules soon enough.” Cam thinned her lips, probably in response to the way Dominic had spoken about her as if she wasn’t in the room.
“I’m sure I will. So, I have the team list and I’ll let you know which players I’d like to interview.” She pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Please don’t feel like there’s an agenda as to who I interview. I’m looking to demonstrate diversity in the stories.”
The squad broke into smaller groups, some to speak with Craig and Natalie Fitzsimmons, aka Fitz, the team captain, others to discuss the season, a few brave souls attempted to breach the forcefield of disinterest surrounding Dominic, and two of the younger players, both blonde and good-looking, were finishing their discussion with Cam as Sophia wandered across the room to stand to the side. She crossed her arms over her team polo shirt, and matched the little hint of a smile that crept onto Cam’s mouth as she also tucked her hands into her elbows. Sophia rolled her gaze down to Cam’s chest then back, where they eyed each other for a moment, Sophia taking in the shorter woman’s defiant stare. Gorgeous brown eyes.
“Articles about female football players,” said Sophia. “They’re not going to be about football, are they?” She watched Cam chew on her top lip. “Yeah, I thought not. No wonder you don’t have to know anything about the sport.”
“Geez, cynical much?” Cam tightened her arms about her torso. “It’s going to be great publicity for the league and will hopefully get more people to come to the games.”
Sophia huffed. “Look, you’re probably right. I’m just really…” Sophia hunted around for the word. Cam supplied it.
“Protective?” Her mouth lifted at one corner. Sophia focused on those lips for a moment, then made eye contact.
“Yes, protective. Last season, the publicity was next to zero. Then social media trolls went berserk after every game. It messed with everyone’s mental health, because all we heard was crap. Never anything positive. So, I’m just hoping that the publicity from—” she unwound her arms and flicked a hand at Cam, “—your stories will push the players’ professionalism, not just misogynistic fluff.”
Cam relaxed her shoulders. “I’m allergic to misogynistic fluff.” There was a tiny pause, then a grin appeared on both their faces. Sophia slid her left hand into her jean’s pockets, and stuck out her right.
“Okay. Well, good.” She smiled again. “I’m Sophia. Am I on your list?” Cam cocked her head, shook the proffered hand, which Sophia unexpectedly enjoyed, then reached for her laptop, which was sitting on the chair.
“I can look if you desperately need to know,” Cam drawled sarcastically.
Sophia rolled her eyes, then spotted the rainbow flag sticker on the laptop cover. Oh, okay. “No, not desperately.” All of a sudden, her highly arrogant, very stupid, little wall-building gremlin took over her brain, hurled a smirk onto her lips, and narrowed her eyes. She held Cam’s gaze. “But I am available for dinner, if you need to learn more about the sport.” Cam’s eyebrows shot up, and she waited a beat before commenting.
“Does that work for you? Often?”
“What?”
“That strategy. I bet it works.” Cam held Sophia’s gaze without blinking.
Sophia’s smile grew, radiating confidence. “Yeah. It usually does.”
“Mmhmm. Well, I’m going to decline your invitation to dinner, as I’m not really interested. You’re not actually my type. Sorry.” Her eyes sparkled. “But thank you. I’m flattered.”
Sophia gaped ever so slightly, then quickly shut her mouth. “Oh, right. Okay. Well, I’ll let you get on with…whatever you need to get on with.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the door. “I’m gonna go…over there.” With a single nod, she turned on her heel and marched towards the exit. Wow. Sophia inhaled deeply, and shoved the false bravado back into its box. Good to know. It seemed that Cam wasn’t into quick dates or fast flings, which was too bad. That’s all I have to offer. Sophia blew out her breath. Bit of a shame. I’m not her type? Really?
A quick look over her shoulder as she was departing the room gave her the opportunity to see Cam’s eyes still focused on her retreating form. Or maybe I am.
Chapter Four
Cam tapped lightly on the laptop keyboard, not hard enough to create text on the screen, but loud enough to be irritating apparently, based on the huffs, sighs, and pointed looks she was receiving from J’aann.
“Sorry,” Cam murmured, her brow wrinkled in an apology. J’aann walked her hands back to her toes, and then stood, stretching her arms towards the ceiling, which made her tight yoga top creep up her torso. She brought her hands down and pressed her palms together at the centre of her sternum.
“Namaste,” she hummed, and it took all of Cam’s willpower not to mutter the word in a Pavlovian echo. Her own yoga class was more traditional than J’aann’s selection of poses that she flung together, buffet-style, each evening in the lounge room of their apartment. Each to their own. She tapped at the keyboard again. J’aann rolled up her purple mat, flipped the band around it, then sat cross-legged on the orange shag-pile floor cushion, and scrubbed her fingers vigorously through her short black hair. She reached for her water bottle.
“I would have thought the positive energy from me doing my yoga right in front of you might have been somewhat inspirational.” J’aann glared. With a groan, Cam dropped her head back on her neck.
“I know.” She flopped her head down again to look at her flatmate. “I know. I’m a bit stuck on where I’m going for my first story. I’ve got the team list here.” She tossed the stapled sheets at J’aann, who caught them and began flipping through the pages. “I just need to get started by choosing someone. I just can’t get past the idea that the tone of this series feels wrong, which completely doesn’t matter because Eddie has decreed the tone and
that’s it.” J’aann studied the individual photos next to each player’s brief bio.
“What about her? She’s yummy.” She flipped the page around and pointed. “All blonde, blue-eyed and intense. If I wasn’t dating Mark, Mr. Sex-On-A-Stick—” she winked at Cam’s eyeroll. “I’d be all up in her space, for sure.” Cam squinted at the photo, then raised her eyebrows.
“Oh. Nuh uh. She’s definitely intense. Super protective of the league’s integrity and all that, so therefore when she heard the mention of fluffy pieces about the players, her pointy spikes came out. Besides, she really doesn’t like me.” J’aann looked up from the next page.
“Why?”
“Because yesterday I outed myself as a complete sporting illiterate and then I told her she wasn’t my type, which she isn’t.” Cam closed the laptop, and arched her back, pushing her shoulders into the chair.
“Uh, details, please?” J’aann settled her bum into the cushion, then with her eyes wide with innocence, blinked at Cam, who looked at her in resignation.
“Fine. She—” Cam lifted her chin at the papers. “She’s Sophia something, right?”
J’aann ran her finger down the page, and tapped it on the photo. “Sophia Lindstrom. Ooh. Tall. Scandinavian.” She wiggled her highly sculpted eyebrows. “Saunas are sexy. I could do all sorts of things in one of those.”
Cam rolled her eyes. “Really? Do you want to know or not?” J’aann tossed the sheets aside and looked up expectantly. “Okay, so at the end of the team meeting, I was talking to a couple of the younger players who I thought would be great to interview, and then Sophia comes over, all athletic and confident—” J’aann snorted. “And she says that what I’m going to be writing is rubbish, and then she has the hide to ask me out to dinner so she could relieve me of my ignorance.” Cam grunted. “I’m paraphrasing, but whatever. Bloody athletes and their egos.”
J’aann leaned back on her hands, and stretched out her legs, encased in neon green yoga tights, across the faux Turkish rug that covered most of the lounge.
“Nah. Not buying it, Cam.” She narrowed her eyes. “Something else irritates you about your seriously focussed Swede.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Cam brought her legs up to tuck them under her body, making the springs in the seat squeak. She caught J’aann’s grin. “Piss off.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, then growled. “She makes me curious, and I’m a reporter. Therefore, I like to find out why I’m curious. It’s just something about her, J’aann. I don’t understand why she was the only one who had her hackles up about the stories. Even the captain didn’t seem phased.”
J’aann reached forward, tapped her toes with her hands, then stood, kicking the cushion out the way towards the couch. “So, get to know her. Find out what makes her tick. Maybe there’s another story just waiting to be written.”
“No,” Cam said defiantly. “She’s just another athlete, like Rachel was. Full of their own self-importance and with such notions of grandeur and personal glory that they leave people scattered in their wake, like cut grass behind a lawn mower.” J’aann stared down at Cam, then folded her arms over her chest. She curved her mouth down and nodded lightly.
“Okay.” She breathed in heavily. “Okay. Well, Francine’s at the studio and it’s my turn to make dinner tonight.” She rolled her shoulders. “I’m feeling an affinity with red right now. Yellow had its moment last week.”
Cam climbed out of the floral-patterned chair. “Awesome. Red means we get steak. Thank God.”
***
“…and then he says, ‘oh yeah, by the way girls, we’re not paying you because you’re costing us too much money with the new teams, so suck on that’.” Sophia used the fork she’d been waving about to stab a carrot circle on her plate, shove it into her mouth, and chew grumpily. Ben stared back at her with understanding in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Soph.” He poured water into Lin’s glass as she came to sit at the table. “At least having a dedicated executive team to oversee the competition is a major step forward, isn’t it?”
Sophia shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah. They’ll be totally focused on our comp, hopefully.”
Lin cut into her pork steak. “I still don’t understand why they couldn’t hire a woman to be in that team of three.” Sophia flipped her hand at Lin.
“Thank you! See? This is what I’m saying.” She took a sip of wine, then plopped the glass back on the table. “Oh! And here’s the other thing.” She abandoned her cutlery in favour of punctuating the air with her hands. “They’ve got an annoying reporter shadowing us for the season, writing soft and fluffy articles which are supposed to,” she glared at the others and air-quoted the next few words, “provide excellent publicity for the players. But!” She tossed her hands again. “How can you write articles about a sport when you don’t know anything about it? Nothing!” Sophia widened her eyes and leant back in her chair. Ben grinned at her theatrics, then focussed on his plate. There was silence, and Sophia had resumed poking at her vegetables when Lin spoke up.
“You asked her out, didn’t you?” Her soft, mellow voice held barely-contained laughter.
Sophia paused, with her fork, laden with steamed broccoli, halfway to her mouth, and looked sideways at Lin, whose eyes were sparkling with humour.
“I…might have?” Sophia closed one eye and scrunched up her face. Then she glared. “How did you know it’s a her?”
Ben burst out laughing. “You just walked through that wide open door, Soph.”
Lin grinned at Ben’s laughter and Sophia’s displeasure. “So, is she pretty?”
Sophia sighed and lifted a shoulder, then popped some more food into her mouth. “I guess,” she mumbled around the mouthful.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You guess?”
Sophia swallowed. “Okay. Fine. She’s pretty. But she shot me down.”
Lin leant back in her chair. “Is she into women?”
Sophia hummed and nodded. “Rainbow sticker on her laptop.” Ben raised his eyebrows.
“Maybe she just likes the colours.”
Sophia mashed her lips together. “Up yours,” she growled, and took a sip of wine. “Maybe it was the badge on her shirt that said ‘all single lesbians apply here’.” She widened her eyes at Ben to emphasise the snarky tone in her voice. Ben met her gaze.
“Wow, Soph. Where did she get the same badge as you?” Lin spluttered into her glass, as Ben smirked. Sophia grumbled a short humourless laugh and shook her head.
“She said I wasn’t her type.” Her tone was slightly aggrieved and Lin looked up through her eyelashes.
“Why were you interested enough to ask her out?”
Sophia swallowed her mouthful. “Because I thought she’d be up for a harmless date and also, I guess, because she’s different from my normal type.” She smiled at the admission.
Ben blew out a breath. “So convince…what’s her name, by the way?”
Sophia’s mouth lifted at the corner. “Cam.”
“Okay. So convince her that you’re her type, if you’re really that interested.”
“I’m not that interested! I’m not. She’s pretty, sure. But she’s frustrating because she seems perfectly happy writing fluffy articles, and I only asked her out so I could educate her about the sport and…” She trailed off at the amused looks on Ben and Lin’s faces. “I’m not that interested!”
Lin laughed, and began stacking their plates. “I think one day someone special will get past your gigantic wall, hon, and suddenly you’ll be in a relationship, and it’ll amaze you at how incredible it is.” She passed the plates to Ben, who smiled softly at her.
Sophia watched their extended eye contact. “Yeah. Well, I’d have to trust that they wouldn’t leave, which is dumb because everyone leaves, so it’s no use starting something that’s just going to end.” She blinked, and decided that a time machine would be perfect right now, so she could go back and never say that sentence at all. There was a silence as Ben gathered
the salt and pepper shakers, and Sophia folded her hand over his, waiting until he looked up. “I’m sorry. That sucked. I know you guys aren’t leaving me, and that comment just made me sound like an ungrateful brat. It’s stuff left over from Mum and Dad, and my anxiety, and…I’m sorry.” She sent a glance at Lin, who smiled in sympathy. “And I know I’ll find someone eventually.”
***
Craig had started the second training session in exactly the same manner as the first; with a montage of short one-minute videos of inspirational women from all walks of life going about their business being amazing and incredible. Sophia grinned as she grabbed the football out of the air, and kicked it back to Mel. He’s such a great guy.
“Nice kick, Mel,” she yelled at the young rookie thirty metres away, and saw the grin flash onto her face. Sophia was very aware of how much the younger players looked up to her, Nadine, and the other couple of over-thirties. Yes, she was passionate about the sport, the competition, but she was also highly protective of the young women. Mel was just one of a group of five players who had landed into the South Melbourne squad, all fresh and shiny, brimming with potential and the protective instinct was sometimes so overwhelming that Sophia’s chest felt tight. It didn’t matter that some of these women, having just got off the train from childhood, were from a completely different world than the girls at the shelter. She’d made it her responsibility to guide them as they took their tentative steps into the great ocean of high level competitive sports. Really? Is it really your responsibility, Soph?