One Small Step

by M. A. Binfield

  Of course she did. Cam shook her head at her own stupidity, feeling embarrassed that maybe she was guilty of a little homophobia for assuming that a gay woman couldn’t be capable of a close friendship with another woman without it meaning something else. Cam’s mind drifted to her own experience with Iris—they were becoming close, and Iris was gay, yet her feelings for Cam seemed completely platonic. Cam cut herself some slack as far as Jess was concerned. After all, given her track record, it was much more like wisdom than homophobia to assume she was looking for a new conquest.

  She looked for Ryan where he’d been standing. In all the excitement of the late goal, and the end of the game, she had forgotten he was there. He was no longer in the same spot, and Cam cast her eyes around the pitch, wondering if he’d moved position, but there was no sign of him. She felt a bubbling of annoyance that he’d left before the end of the match and missed her late goal. And he missed the one I scored in the first half too. She let out a deep sigh of frustration.

  On the side of the pitch where Ryan had been standing, Iris was helping Megan gather up the various bits of surplus equipment, medical supplies, and so on. Cam had had a good game and was psyched that she’d scored another two goals, but she knew that it was the understanding she was developing with Iris, who always seemed to know where she was on the pitch that was making her play so well and, more importantly, helping the team win more games this season. At the final whistle, Megan had hugged both Iris and Cam in a very un-Megan like display of affection. “You two carry on like that and we might even win the bloody league.” Her enthusiasm explained by the fact that they were now just two points behind the league leaders.

  Cam jogged across the pitch toward Megan and Iris. “Can I carry something?”

  “No way. We need you lying on a bed of feathers and wrapped in cotton wool till the end of the season. I’m not allowing our star player to pull a muscle.” Iris’s eyes danced as she spoke, the tension of earlier completely gone.

  Cam felt herself blush at the silly compliment, liking the fact that Iris did not seem at all jealous of the praise that came Cam’s way and liking more the fact that this praise came from Iris.

  “I’m only as good as the service I’m getting from you, so give me one of those buckets before you pull a muscle and everyone figures out you’re the one making me look so good.” Cam took one of the buckets and mimed it hitting the floor due to its heaviness.

  “What’s Megan got in here? Bricks?”

  “Close. She always brings ankle weights. Makes the subs warm up while wearing them. You’d know that if you’d ever sat on the subs bench.” Cam looked across and saw that Iris was smiling, teasing her.

  “I’ve been substitute plenty of times, thank you. I wasn’t always this appreciated in teams I’ve played in.”

  “And do you feel ‘appreciated’ by us, Cam?” Iris raised her eyebrows flirtatiously. “Because, speaking for myself, I certainly do appreciate you.” She looked Cam up and down appraisingly before she let out a chuckle.

  Cam felt a rush of blood to her cheeks. Iris was just teasing, of course she was. She pushed Iris ahead of her, toward the changing rooms, so she couldn’t see that Cam was blushing furiously and working hard not to worry about just how much the idea of Iris appreciating her was suddenly so appealing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cam sat quietly as the players headed out of the changing room in twos and threes looking all showered and pink and thirsty for a celebratory pint. For a bunch of athletes, they sure liked a drink. It was a British thing, Alison had explained to her once. Her sister considered herself an expert on all things British having spent a summer here once touring music festivals with a Brit she’d met back in Seattle. Her not-very-scientific theory was that British people were naturally so reserved that only the consumption of a certain amount of alcohol enabled them to function socially. There was some truth in it, but Cam had always suspected this was wisdom born only of Alison’s experience of having her heart broken by the same heavy drinking emotionally stunted British boyfriend at the end of that summer.

  Before showering, Cam had checked for a text from Ryan explaining his sudden disappearance. There was nothing. She felt annoyed, hoping he had a good excuse. If she was being honest though, she was happy to escape having to go home with him and miss the post-match celebrations. Maybe she was going native, but a pint of warm ale in a cozy pub sounded like heaven right now.

  “Ready?” Iris zipped up her bag and stood, slinging it over one shoulder.

  Cam nodded in response and looked up at her. She was completely surprised by the jolt of arousal she felt at the sight of Iris, her cheeks flushed from the shower, her dark hair still damp, the very shape of her, framed against the light, seeming to be something Cam couldn’t help but notice as attractive. Very attractive actually. She willed herself to stop staring, willed herself to stop thinking what she was thinking, and then watched as Iris frowned. Cam worried that Iris somehow understood what she had been thinking, and she felt a stab of panic.

  Iris reached behind her, prodding at the back of her right calf and wincing. “It’s bloody sore and a nice shade of purple already.” She grinned. “Totally worth it for that penalty though.”

  Cam exhaled. She made herself smile back, trying to ignore the tight feeling in her belly.

  “I know, I got whacked too. I think that’s how they’ve won so many games, intimidating their opponents with a few kicks when the ref’s not looking.” Cam rolled up her tracksuit and turned her leg to show Iris, insanely relieved that they were talking about bruises.

  Iris dropped her bag onto the bench and knelt in front of Cam. She turned her leg slightly with one hand and gently probed Cam’s calf with the other. Cam felt every touch of Iris’s fingers. Her skin was alive, sparkling under the soft pressure. She felt a little too warm and understood that it wasn’t the temperature in the changing room.

  “There’s some faint bruising and it feels a little swollen, but nothing too bad. Is it sore?” Iris looked up at Cam as she spoke. Her eyes were hard to read in the dim light, but Cam couldn’t see past them. She nodded, words beyond her, and Iris nodded in response, holding Cam’s gaze before returning her foot to the floor slowly, then gently rolling the tracksuit back into position. Cam stared at her fingers as they moved.

  “Well, at least you can walk this time,” Iris said, not moving. The air seemed heavy between them, but Cam wasn’t sure if that was her imagination. Last night they had shared something, something much more important than a curry. It had made them closer, and Cam could feel it. She swallowed, her throat seeming full, her eyes unable to look away from Iris’s. The two of them just looking at each other.

  “Ryan came to see us play today.” Something made Cam say the words; they were unexpected, even to her.

  “Oh,” Iris responded neutrally. “I didn’t know, I mean, I didn’t see him. I should have said hello.” Iris stood up slowly and Cam did likewise. They were the last players to leave the changing room, and Cam badly needed to get out into the air. She picked up her bag.

  “He arrived at the end of halftime, but left before the end. Missed both my goals.” She tried to sound breezy, like she didn’t really care. “Probably got pneumonia out there in the rain and had to go to the hospital.” Cam was trying to be humorous, but none of it was funny. Iris being so close had made her feel something she didn’t want to feel, and it had made her want to remind herself of Ryan, to remind Iris of Ryan, and all she’d done was make herself feel short-changed by him again.

  Iris and Cam left the changing room side by side.

  “Muscle rub,” Iris murmured.

  Cam looked at her, not sure she’d heard correctly.

  “Hazel always has some muscle rub. Ask her for some for your leg. And then you can buy me a pint of shandy for setting up both your goals.” Cam was relieved that Iris seemed completely unaware of whatever it was she had imagined had just passed between them.

  * * *


  “Cam,” Ryan yelled from the parking lot. “I’m over here. I’ve got the heat on.”

  Cam and Iris exchanged a glance. “I guess he did stick around after all,” Iris said quietly.

  They both changed direction and headed toward Ryan and his car.

  “Hey, Ryan.” Iris spoke first, putting out a hand which Ryan shook firmly. “We’ve not met. I’m Iris. How did you enjoy the game? Pretty wet and cold day for spectating. Hope Cam’s performance made up for the weather.”

  “Hey, Iris, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Ryan regarded Iris closely. Cam wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a little edge to the statement. Whatever it was, it passed quickly. “Yeah, I’m soaked through but happy I came.”

  Ryan looked very wet. Jeans and shoes sodden, neither given any protection by the umbrella he had been holding. Cam felt affection for him, happy he had come. Her annoyance now only an itch.

  “You missed my goal right at the end.” Cam scratched the itch.

  “I didn’t. I saw it from a distance. I thought the game was about to finish so I went to find a bathroom. Sorry, babe.” Cam let Ryan pull her into a hug.

  “I played well didn’t I?” She looked up at him.

  “You certainly did, my sweet. You all did actually. I was quite proud. That last goal was a peach, even from a distance,” Ryan said. “But now I need to get out of these wet clothes.” He waved his hands down his body, drawing attention to the state of his clothes, and Cam felt him turn her in the direction of his parked car.

  “I don’t wanna go home.” Cam felt a slight rush of panic. “I want to go for a drink.”

  “Babe, I’m soaked through.” Ryan patted his jeans.

  Cam held her ground but sounded uncertain. “They’ll probably have the fire going in the pub. You can dry off there. I think we’ve all earned a pint.” Cam looked pleadingly at him, and then sideways at Iris. Cam was waiting for him to decide what they were going to do, and they all knew that she’d acquiesce if he said they had to go home. Ryan looked from Cam to Iris and back again.

  “Okay, okay, a quick pint sounds good. And it’s about time I met all those people you talk about, except maybe that Graham guy.” He lifted his eyebrows, and Cam felt relief as Ryan kissed her on the top of the head and remotely unlocked his car. “Need a lift, Iris?” He didn’t look at Iris as he spoke.

  “No, thanks.” Iris shook her head.

  Cam threw her bag onto the back seat and turned back to Iris before getting in. “See you there?” Iris nodded and walked slowly away.

  * * *

  Moments later, Iris was sitting in her car, not yet having pulled away, feeling the loss of Cam by her side, and missing her usual excited chatter about all the key moments of the match as Iris drove them to the pub. They had fallen into an enjoyable routine over the past few weeks. Cam would leave her car at home, and Iris would pick her up and then drop her off after they’d finished. They lived so close, it made sense to share cars, and Cam loved the Mini, saying that it made her feel like she was in an Austin Powers movie. Iris tried not to be too alarmed by the fact that she minded very much that Ryan had swept in tonight and ushered Cam into his car, ruining their routine and her post match good mood at the same time. The small stab of jealousy that she felt as Cam allowed herself to be pulled into Ryan’s arms, as Ryan kissed the top of Cam’s head, was something else she didn’t want to face up to.

  Last night, Iris had worried that things wouldn’t be the same between them once Cam knew what had happened with Amanda and how she had behaved after their split, but Cam had surprised her by being so damn solid about it all—she’d been amazing actually—and today Iris was the one in danger of ruining things by not controlling her feelings. The irony being that, before Cam, she’d had them under supreme control for months. Iris sighed. She shouldn’t have let Cam get so close, should have realized the attraction from the start. The tense, sparking feeling in her body as she had knelt in front of Cam in the changing room just now was the clearest proof yet that she was in over her head. She might be telling herself that she and Cam were just becoming good friends, but her body clearly hadn’t gotten the message.

  She thumped her steering wheel in frustration and turned on her engine, watching as Ryan pulled out ahead of her, waving as he passed. Iris returned the wave halfheartedly and seriously contemplated driving home rather than to the pub. She’d started the day wondering how she’d feel being around Amanda again, and she was ending it by worrying more about how she’d handle seeing Cam with Ryan, her actual fucking fiancé. And that wasn’t a good thing at all.

  Damn, damn, damn. Iris put the car into first gear. Am I really dumb enough to be developing feelings for my soon to be married friend? She took in a breath. A sweet, smart, sexy friend…with eyes you could swim in. Iris slowed the car at the junction, chiding herself for her own ridiculousness. She flicked the indicator for a left turn, intending to go home. As she waited for a gap in the traffic so she could pull out, she found herself pushing down on the indicator lever to signal right, deciding at the last minute that seeing Cam canoodling with Ryan would be good for her stupid crush. It’d be like aversion therapy, helping her to face reality and get back to being the friend to Cam that she really wanted to be. As Iris got closer to the pub, she rolled her shoulders against the tension she felt knowing that, if it got a bit too much with Cam and Ryan, for a bit of light relief, she could make awkward conversation with the woman who broke her heart by cheating on her. It was gonna be a great night.

  When Iris entered the lounge, Ryan and Cam were already seated, and Ryan was shaking hands across the table introducing himself to the other players. Someone had moved a few of the small tables together so that everyone was sitting in a big group.

  Cam waved at Iris and pointed at the seat next to her. It was a sweet gesture and she could hardly refuse, even if it would mean a close-up view of the future newlyweds all night. Inside, Iris groaned and then reminded herself that was the point. She was here to be cured. She approached the table, her hand on her wallet.

  “Anyone missing a drink?”

  “Hazel’s already had a whip round and is getting a round in. Go and chip in, mate.” Vicki’s voice carried above the din.

  Vicki was with Harry, the two of them sitting close, fingers entwined and obviously finding it hard not to keep touching each other. It made Iris remember how crazy the first few weeks of any relationship were. Unsure, intense, and passionate. She made her way to the bar, wondering if something of that was going on with her and Cam. Not a relationship, she wasn’t that dumb, but new friendships could also be intense, could involve wanting to spend a lot of time together, even involve being jealous. Maybe that was what was going on. Iris liked the explanation and tried to convince herself it was plausible, but then she remembered the wave of arousal that had coursed through her body when Cam had looked at her as she’d knelt before her in the changing room, and had to face up to the fact that even intense friendships didn’t usually involve those kinds of feelings. It was a nice try though.

  “Hey, bud, add a pint of shandy to that order will you?” Iris threw an arm around Hazel’s shoulders.

  “Sure thing.” Hazel passed on the request to the barmaid.

  “Great game today, eh? Really enjoyable to beat that lot.” Iris didn’t sound all that convincing, even to herself.

  “Yeah, really enjoyable. They’re an arrogant bunch, nice to put one over on them. So why does your face look like we lost?” Hazel nudged her affectionately.

  Iris shrugged.

  “Seriously, mate, what’s up?”

  The barmaid was lining up the drinks on two round trays in front of Hazel.

  “Dunno, really. Probably nothing.”

  “Uh-oh, not premenstrual are we? You know how evil you get.” Hazel made devil horn signs in Iris’s direction.

  Despite herself, Iris laughed. “Nah, that was last week. Thanks for asking though.”

  Iris decided to tell a half tr
uth to Hazel knowing she’d get a proper telling off if she confessed even the smallest smidgeon of jealousy about Cam and Ryan.

  “I guess it’s just weird having Amanda here. Weirder than I thought it would be. Seeing her play, her being here in the pub, it kind of makes me think of the old days, and I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to remember the old days.” Iris shrugged again.

  “Oh, mate, you should have said. I’m sure she would have stayed away from the pub. The first thing she said when she told me she was coming back to play was that she didn’t want it to be awkward for you.” Hazel paused. “I honestly thought you guys were past it all.”

  “I am, I guess. I just hate everything about the person I was then, but since I haven’t allowed myself to prove that I’m not that person any more, I can’t even trust that I’m any better now.” Iris took a gulp of the shandy, wondering where that tortuous clarity had come from.

  It was true. Iris hadn’t shown that she’d learned any lessons from it; she had just shut herself away. It sometimes felt as if she didn’t trust herself to have changed. The realization landed heavily and deepened her dark mood. And now she was moping because Cam—the sweetest woman she’d met in a very long time, someone who’d been nothing but kind and supportive—had a fiancé she loved in a way she would never love Iris, and it made her jealous as hell.

  Iris made herself think straight. So what if it had felt special when she and Cam had shared that cab home after the curry. So what if she had knelt in front of Cam in the changing room and dared to imagine that Cam’s gaze contained something of what Iris was feeling. She had to get over it. She and Cam could be great friends whether or not she had a fiancé, a husband or even six kids.

  Hazel touched Iris’s arm. “I’d trust you with my life, Iris. Shit, maybe even with my wife. You’re a good sort. Get back out there and prove to yourself that you’re a catch and far too tame and sweet to be a danger to anyone. Please.”