At halftime, the kids scramble off the field for Gatorade and animal crackers. I pat Laine’s shoulder. “Need a cookie, Beave?”
“I didn’t expect it to be so stressful.” She looks at me earnestly. “They’re so …bad.”
I smile. “They’re six. What did you expect?”
“Hey there, Zoe!” A silky voice lifts from down below as a long-legged lady in cutoffs and a cropped hoodie climbs the bleachers toward us. Mariah Adams, bleached blonde and tanned brown no matter what time of year, pauses in front of me, hands on her hips. “You haven’t been to Soccer Saturday in ages!” She winks. “Not since you were my fan, I think.”
Great. Last thing I need right now is an ex stopping by to pity-flirt.
“Hey yourself, Mariah,” I say, squinting up at her. The sun’s behind her, making it hard to look at her dead-on. “Let me introduce you—this is Laine Woods, my new vintner. Laine, this is—”
“Theotherteam’s coach,” Laine says and stands abruptly, startling Mariah back a bit.
“Well, aren’t you somebody’s cousin,” Mariah says, amused. “Competition gettin’ to you, sport?”
“Andhowdo y’all know each other?” Laine asks flatly.
Mariah’s eyebrows raise in unison, and she looks at me.Call off your dyke, will you?
Mine raise right back, and I shrug ever so slightly.She’s not my dyke?
Mariah tilts her head.You sure about that?But she claps her hands together. “Well, it’s nice to see you, Zoe. My number’s still the same, case you’re wondering.” She smiles extra big as she takes a step back. “Laine, good meeting you. Try not to bust a vein out here screaming, ’kay? You’ll scare the children.” Mariah tips her baseball cap slightly in my direction, then trots away from us.
“Jesus.” Laine plops back down. “That’syour type?” The judgment in her tone is thick and growly.
“My only type is single.” It’s not entirely true—Mariah’s definitely sorority-girl gay and a bit of a pillow princess, which isn’t my first choice in partners, but you can’t be that picky in a queer community this size. Besides, she’s nice, and Ididenjoy her tan lines. “Why, you jealous?” I smirk, unable to resist teasing her.
“No,” Laine says too quickly. “Just maybe don’t sleep with the enemy next time, all right?”
“Theenemy,” I repeat, incredulous. “The single queer mom coaching her daughter’s co-ed soccer team? That enemy?”
“I said what I said.” Laine scowls at the field.
“Okay, what’s your type then?” I fold my arms, too amused to let this go.
“Harlow.”
The name slams into my chest like a bullet, taking my breath away. “Oh. Right.”
Laine glances up at me then, her eyes flickering with interest at the obvious fluster she’s caused. “I mean,likeHarlow. Fun, funny, sexy. Maybe more interested in serious relationships, though. What about you? You ever going to settle down?”
“Um, me? Settle down?” The world stops spinning around me, and I’m almost thrown off into space from the sudden halt. I huff out a laugh. “I don’t know, settling down’s never felt like an option before.”
“What do you mean?”
I try to think of how to explain what it’s like being queer in a tiny mountain community, taking whatever scraps of interest I could get only to watch them fizzle out after a few hours, days, weeks. “You know when you’re driving toward the Aska trails, and the road curves this way and that, never showing you more than fifteen feet ahead before turning again, and then suddenly, you hit that stretch where the road’s straight as an arrow, and you can see for miles and miles, like the road goes on forever?”
Laine nods, and I blow out a breath. “My relationships never reach that stretch, where I can see off into the distance. The end’s always there, right in front of me.”
Shehmms thoughtfully before leaning back on her palms again. “You ever consider that maybe you’ve got to take those twists and turns to get to the long stretch?” My cheeks burn as I face the field once more. I start to sayno, but it’s giving petulant teenager, even to me.
The second half starts with a bang, and this time, it’s Benny who gets the ball. Even though he’s running toward the wrong goal, Laine’s whooping like a madwoman, taking whatever she can get. Maybe nowshe’ll understand the plight of being a single Blue Ridge lesbian. Ten feet from the goal, Benny starts to kick, and—
PHRRRRIIIIPTTT!The ref points to Bella, where she sits on the sidelines making dandelion wishes. “SHOELACES.”
“She’s NOT EVEN PLAYING!” Laine yells. “COME ON!”
The ref makes unflinching eye contact with Laine as she takes extra time tying one shoe, then, untying and retying the other one, too.
