Outside the Lines

by Kate Christie

  She couldn’t lie to Jamie, either, so she dodged: “Why are you asking about this now?”

  “Ty said something about you guys the other day.”

  Ty had adored Sam. Was it possible he knew why she’d left? “What exactly did he say?”

  “Nothing specific, only that I should be worried about what you brought to the table. When I asked what he meant, he said ‘the Sam thing.’ That was it.”

  Well, shit. He definitely knew. The realization made Emma squeeze her arms in close to her sides, as if she could ward off the memories of her terror for Sam—and herself—by becoming physically smaller, less visible.

  “Something did happen with Sam and me,” she admitted. “Something that was pretty terrible at the time. One day fairly soon I imagine I’ll feel like talking about it. But honestly, I’d rather not right now. If that’s okay?”

  Jamie’s knuckles whitened as she clutched her mug in both hands. Then she shook her head. “You don’t owe me your past, Emma. There are plenty of things from previous relationships that I probably won’t ever tell you.”

  Emma eyed her skeptically again. “Really?”

  “Oh.” Jamie cleared her throat. “Well, maybe not. But only because you’re cute and I’m not very good at saying no to you.”

  “You’re cute, too,” Emma said, and kissed her, tasting the bitterness of green tea on her lips. She pulled back and rested their foreheads together. “Thank you.”

  Jamie didn’t ask her for what. She simply nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  Emma settled against her. “I know we should go work out—the beep test is less than a week away, yegads—but I would love a nap. What do you think?”

  “Work-out, shmerk-out. I second the nap option.”

  Emma felt Jamie’s arms tighten around her, and she relaxed even more, closing her eyes and luxuriating in the feel of her girlfriend’s warm, strong body against hers. They would be okay. 2015 might not be perfect any more than 2014 had been, but it was going to be good, if Emma had anything to say about it. They would win the World Cup and ride off into the sunset. They would win the World Cup and ride off into the sunset. THEY WOULD WIN THE WORLD CUP AND RIDE OFF INTO THE SUNSET!

  This time, she believed it. At least, she did with Jamie curled around her, the two of them keeping each other warm and safe as they dozed the afternoon away.

  * * *

  On the last day of the soon-to-be old year, Jamie sat in the recliner in the corner reading as Emma stood before the sliding glass balcony door, her back to the living room. Or rather, she tried to focus on the Star Wars novel she’d downloaded to her iPad, but her attention kept returning to her girlfriend, whose shoulders were hunched as she stared out across the city skyline, phone to her ear.

  In the near distance, Jamie could see people and machines crawling over the Space Needle, readying it for the big event later that night. She was psyched she would get to see the Seattle fireworks from Emma’s condo this year. Last year she’d been newly single when she rang in the start of 2014 in San Francisco, and even then part of her had wondered how Emma was celebrating, whether or not she had someone to kiss at midnight. This New Year’s Eve, Jamie would be the someone kissing Emma at midnight—a surreal concept, but considerably less so after dating her the past eleven months.

  “Okay,” Emma said into the phone. “I guess that’s it then. Thanks for all your work on this, Ellie. I’m sorry we couldn’t get it done.” She listened for a moment. “Don’t worry, we won’t. You and Jodie either, okay? Happy New Year.” She ended the call and turned, tossing her phone at the couch where it bounced once before settling.

  “So…?” Jamie gazed up at her without much hope.

  Emma twisted her hands together. “It’s over. We’re dropping the suit.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry.” Jamie set her Kindle aside and patted her leg in invitation. Soon Emma was seated on her lap, face tucked into her neck. Jamie readjusted their combined weight and murmured, “So FIFA’s still being a giant bag of dicks?”

  Emma exhaled a short laugh into her skin. “Yes, the bastards.” She gazed up at Jamie, serious again. “Their attorneys made it clear that even if the court orders them to provide grass, they won’t comply.”

  “What? They can’t do that, can they?”

  “They can and they would, which means this lawsuit has zero chance of affecting any change. General consensus among the players is that with the tournament so close, we need to shift our attention away from politics and back to the game.”

  “I can’t believe they’re still refusing to negotiate on this. What the hell? It’s not even like it would be that expensive. There are companies who would love the exposure.”

  “Preaching to the choir, babe.” Emma waved at the Kindle. “How’s Luke Skywalker and fam?”

  “They’re not in it yet. I’m not that far in, though.”

  Rhea, Becca’s wife, had recommended the novel Aftermath, first in a trilogy set in the period between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens, after Jamie had mentioned how much she’d loved the new teaser trailer for TFA. Another good thing about 2015: for the first time in ten years, a new Star Wars movie would be in theaters. And this one, rumor had it, offered a female main character who—no offense to Princess Leia Organa or Queen Padme Amidala—was a total badass. Jamie couldn’t wait for the fan fiction that would be written about the new character, since lord knew there weren’t likely to be lesbians in the latest trilogy either.

  “Any girl-on-girl action?” Emma asked.

  “Sadly, no.”

  “Wow, and you’re still reading it?”

  “It’s Star Wars,” Jamie said, as if the reason for reading were obvious.

  The Star Wars franchise was an institution that each generation connected with in its own unique way. Jamie didn’t require queer characters to enjoy the story—although if Daisy Ridley’s lead (or any other non-Imperial female character, for that matter) in The Force Awakens ended up being into women, that would only make the franchise that much greater in Jamie’s estimation. Still, she wasn’t holding her breath. She doubted she would survive if she did.

  With effort, she set the awesomeness that was Star Wars aside and steered the conversation back on topic. “How do you feel? About dropping the lawsuit, I mean.”

  “Pissed off. Frustrated. Their behavior is completely unacceptable. But at the same time…” She toyed with the strings on Jamie’s hoodie. “It’s not a shock, is it? They made it clear from the start that they weren’t going to budge, and sure enough, they haven’t.”

  “Maybe not a shock, but it is disappointing.”

  “You’re right. It’s a huge disappointment. In fact, I’d call it a giant load of—”

  “—you-know-what kind of hooey,” Jamie finished with her. “You know the best way to show the boys at FIFA how wrong they are? Fill the seats and dazzle the global audience.”

  For once at a women’s event, that would be possible. The announcement had come while they were in Brazil—an early holiday gift, the team had agreed—that Fox was planning to broadcast 200 hours of World Cup coverage. That figure worked out to somewhere between six and seven hours of television coverage per day during the month-long competition. Not only would the 2015 World Cup be the largest women’s cup in history, with twenty-four teams instead of the usual sixteen participating in group play, it would also have the largest potential audience of any previous women’s soccer tournament. Ever.

  Emma nodded. “FIFA refuses to spend money on us because they say no one cares about the women’s game. I hope we make them eat their fucking words next summer.” She paused and took what Jamie assumed was meant to be a calming breath. “Anyway, enough about the giant bag of dicks. Ellie said not to let them affect our New Year’s Eve. Captain’s orders.”

  Jamie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “But does she have jurisdiction here? Because I’m pretty sure we’re not on team time now.”

  “Good thing, too.” Emma moved f
orward until her lips were only inches away. “Because we have just enough time for me to ravish you before Dani and Derek get here.”

  “We do, do we? In that case…”

  The ravishing had to take place in the shower because they’d spent the first half of the day at the soccer academy in Tukwila where Emma trained in the off-season. Since they were planning a mostly exercise-free New Year’s Day, they’d put in an extra-long workout today, taking advantage of the mild temperatures and rare rainless skies. Clear skies that would, Jamie hoped, make tonight’s fireworks show even better.

  She was still pulling on her collared shirt when the doorbell rang. Emma was in the bathroom working on her make-up, so Jamie buzzed Dani and her boyfriend up and then speed-buttoned her shirt, barely getting it tucked in and her red and silver striped bow-tie fastened before the familiar knock sounded.

  “Hola, babes,” Emma’s best friend said, bursting through the door with her usual sassy smile, a bottle of champagne in each hand.

  “Hey guys!” Jamie hugged Dani with one hand and accepted a champagne bottle with the other. She waved slightly at Derek, who stepped forward to give her a warm hug.

  “Where’s Blake?” Dani asked, stripping off her jacket.

  “Still getting ready.” Jamie chose to ignore Dani’s knowing smirk. “Can I take your coats?” she asked, playing host as if the condo was her home too. She spent more time in Seattle than Portland these days, so it wasn’t that far from the truth.

  When Emma emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, Jamie watched her approach, taking in her hair falling around her shoulders in a cascade of loose curls, her thigh-length scoop-neck dress—red for the holidays, dontcha know, she had said earlier—and the black leggings that emphasized her muscular legs. Legs that had been wrapped around Jamie’s waist only a little while earlier…

  Dani elbowed her. “Breathe, Max.”

  Good advice, really.

  “You look beautiful.” She kissed Emma’s cheek, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

  “So do you.” Emma smiled as she took in Jamie’s tailored gray dress pants, red bow-tie, and collared shirt—dark green, she’d told Emma earlier, because “together we make Christmas.” Emma had laughed at her cheesiness, but in a good way, Jamie was pretty sure.

  “Happy New Year!” Dani said, and surged forward to hug Emma. “Now let’s get drunk!”

  And with that, the dinner party had officially begun. Jamie wasn’t sure that it technically counted as a dinner party, seeing as it was only three-thirty. They’d decided to start early in order to achieve their goal: bingeing the first three episodes of Star Wars before midnight.

  “Technically, we’re watching the middle three episodes,” Jamie noted as she loaded A New Hope into the DVD player. Derek nodded in agreement while Emma and Dani only stared blankly at her. “You know, because four through six were released first, with one through three following later? The Force Awakens will actually be episode seven.”

  Dani glanced at Emma. “You’re right. She is an even bigger nerd than you.”

  “Ha, ha,” Jamie said, side-eyeing Emma’s best friend.

  “Oh, I wasn’t joking, Max.”

  Emma patted the couch cushion next to her, and Jamie settled in beside her, bending forward momentarily to stick her tongue out at Dani. The other woman only rolled her eyes and nestled in against her boyfriend.

  This was awesome, Jamie decided a few minutes later as John Williams’s famous score echoed through the surround speakers. She was tired and loose from their epic workout, both at the training facility and in Emma’s shower, and they were cuddling on the couch together, Emma’s best friend and her boyfriend here with them, and the original Star Wars movie was on Emma’s television, the opening words arcing dramatically away into the star-pricked backdrop of space. Jamie had seen this movie a dozen times, and the beginning still gave her goose bumps.

  Beside her, Emma reached for her hand, and Jamie sighed in contentment. It was still early, but already this was shaping up to be the Best. New Year’s Eve. Ever.

  #

  They managed to keep their hunger somewhat at bay by feasting on Trader Joe’s popcorn and Dani’s fruity champagne concoctions, but as soon as the movie ended everyone agreed that it was time for dinner. Derek had volunteered to make his mother’s famous candied yams and cornbread, while Jamie contributed a kale and wild rice salad. Emma baked a huge salmon filet, and Dani—well, she kept the alcohol and conversation flowing.

  By the time they sat down to dinner, Jamie was tipsier than she could remember being in months. Good thing she and Emma weren’t planning on working out the following day. She had a feeling they would be sleeping in. Sleeping it off? Whatever.

  Dinner vacillated between silence as they feasted on the “gorgeous spread” to noisy laughter as Emma and Dani attempted to one-up each other with intimate revelations intended to wow their respective partners.

  “I’m not the one who nearly got Pearl Jam lyrics tattooed on my ass,” Dani teased at one point.

  “Not my ass!” Emma protested. “It was the small of my back.”

  “I believe I also talked you out of a Manchester United tattoo,” Dani revealed.

  Jamie pretended to bow to her. “You have my eternal gratitude. I don’t think I could date a woman with a Man U tat.”

  “Oi, now, don’t be bashing my boys,” Emma said.

  Dani snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re becoming one of those wankers who uses British slang and calls soccer ‘football’ and the field a ‘pitch.’”

  “Um, I’d like to point out that ‘wanker’ is British slang,” Emma said. “Besides, it’s called ‘football’ in the entire rest of the world, and I would argue that ‘pitch’ makes significantly more sense than ‘field.’”

  “She is dating a bonafide English footballer,” Jamie said.

  “A former English footballer,” Dani corrected.

  “Still current for a few more months—we made it to Champions League quarterfinals in March.”

  “That’s right,” Derek said. “Congrats, man. Who else is through?”

  “Paris-St. Germain, who we play next, Bristol Academy, Frankfurt, Wolfsburg, and a couple of Swedish teams you’ve never heard of. Oh, and Lyon.”

  Jamie’s lips pursed as they always did whenever she had to say the word Lyon. If Arsenal and Lyon both made it out of the quarterfinals alive, that would set up a semifinal meeting between the two clubs in April, and then she would have to decide if she was ready to set foot in the French city where she’d lost a part of herself all those years ago. As if 2015 wasn’t already shaping up to be one unremitting test of her emotional fortitude… Maybe Emma was right. Maybe it was time she called Shoshanna.

  Beside her, Emma covered her hand, and Jamie could see the unspoken support in her eyes. Immediately the tension settling over her loosened, and she nodded back. All Emma had to do was touch her and she relaxed. It was like a Pavlovian response—or the opposite, maybe. Weren’t there studies that showed touching a dog lowered one’s blood pressure?

  Wait, who was the dog in this scenario? Jamie felt another giggle building. Yeah, might be time to slow down on the whole booze-guzzling thing.

  “Did you say in March?” Dani lifted a brow in a way Jamie used to find intimidating. “What about the—what do you guys call the Algarve?”

  “The Golf and Wine Cup,” Emma supplied.

  “Right. Won’t Champions League interfere with that?”

  “Assuming I make the roster for the Algarve,” Jamie said, hearing the edge in her own voice, “no, it wouldn’t. Champions League is later, at the end of the month.”

  “You’ll make the roster,” Dani said confidently. “Have you seen you play, Jamie? Because I have. They’d be idiots to leave you off the team, and Jo Nichols is no idiot. That Craig guy, maybe, but not her.”

  Maybe it was the champagne talking, but Jamie felt a rush of warmth. She’d played against Dani in college, and from what
she remembered, Dani was more than a decent soccer player herself. Her assessment—especially her opinion of “that Craig guy,” as Jamie was fairly certain he would now forever be immortalized in her brain—carried more weight because she was Emma’s friend, not Jamie’s, and also because she called things like she saw them.

  They finished off almost every bit of food they’d prepared, with only a couple of servings left of the cornbread and kale salad. Jamie had purposely made extra salad so they would have leftovers on New Year’s Day. She was hoping she and Emma wouldn’t have to leave the condo at all. They hadn’t had a day to lay around reading and watching movies since their spontaneous European vacation. Although knowing them, they would plan to do nothing and then end up going for “a short run” that would take them across the Ballard Bridge, through Fremont, and back up Queen Anne Hill. You know, just to stretch their legs.

  “What is it about lesbians and kale?” Dani asked as they cleaned up the kitchen. “Jasmine, Derek’s super gay sister, has it with practically every meal, I swear.”

  “It’s true,” he agreed, wiping down the stove and counter with a rag. “She’s like a kale disciple who proselytizes its wonders every chance she gets.”

  “It’s in the lesbian contract,” Jamie said. “If you’re bi, you get to choose between kale and spinach.”

  Emma, drying dishes while Jamie washed, cracked up. Then she alertly caught the chunk of cornbread Dani lobbed at Jamie’s head and popped it in her mouth.

  “That fell on the floor,” Dani said smugly.

  Emma froze, but then she shrugged. “Your stomach acid kills almost everything anyway.”

  It was Jamie’s turn to crack up. That line was one that Meg liked to pull out at opportune moments, as Emma had learned in person that fall in Utah.