“I feel an impending sense of doom.”
“About the move?”
She nodded. “Everything is changing. I believe that everything happens for a reason, I just hate that it comes at the expense of us. You had to move to another team, this was supposed to be the last year with my friends. It’s just fucking annoying.”
I bit my tongue to stop myself from reminding her of her language. I could take a break from being responsible while Olive confided in me.
“It’s fucking annoying for sure,” I started, “but as much as I hated the idea of this change happening, it has yet to backfire on me. I bet it’ll be the same for you.”
“Yeah, because you’re in love with Bee.”
I nearly choked on my iced latte. “Who said I’m in love?”
“Your dumb, lovey dovey eyes, Nolly. Bee walks in the room, and you can’t stop staring at her. Even when we walkintoa room, you look for her.”
My denial was on the tip of my tongue, the same script I’d been trying to use on myself. But this time, the words tasted like ash before I could even get them out. Why keep denying something I wanted to release so badly?
“You’re right.” I conceded, throwing Olive off and making her jaw drop. “I think I’m down bad, Olly.”
“Okay, so do something about it!”
“I cannot date my teammate, Olly.”
“Why not? Explain it to me like I’m five.”
I relented, because for some reason confiding in my thirteen-year-old sister was the only option I had at the moment.
“Well one, it’s only been two months.”
“Love doesn’t have a timer.”
“Two, our jobs are kind of more important than our love lives. Our coach, the media, our mom—everyone’s waiting to see how we play together. There’s a lot of riding on us being on the same team, and it’s the second year since we’ve been reinstated. So that adds more pressure.”
“So do a good job,” Olive replied like it was the easiest thing ever.
“Well, yes, that’s the plan.”
“But also why does everyone have to know?”
“Come again?”
“What if you guys just dated in secret for a while? People think it anyway.” My sister pulled out her phone.
“Who’s saying what?” I demanded, panic creeping into my chest.
My sister showed me a post in a league forum. But, instead of usual talk of who was taking the championship this year, there was a carousel of screenshots from Bee’s Instagram. All stories she posted, all including little slivers of me within them.
And for once, my stomach didn’t drop at the notion that people were perceiving me in a way I hadn’t meticulously designed.
Comments ranged from speculation asking if we were living together, if this was something for content, to asking if we were dating, for real or for clout.
It was clear I did a bad job at hiding my smile, because my sister snatched the phone from me with a scoff.
“Oh my God, Nolly, youdohave it bad. If this was anyone else you’d be asking Daya to start posting from her burner account.”
I rubbed a hand down my face, not doing anything to wipe off the smile I couldn’t keep contained. “She’s coming to dinner tonight.”
“Perfect! You can confess your deep love and my brilliant planning then.”
