Page 20 of Rumor Has It

Almost a week later, Becky packed her suitcase for the Women’s National Team’s first friendly match. They were going to play against Mexico at PNC stadium in Houston. She was thankful it was still technically winter and not a million degrees. She still checked her weather app several times, hoping that it would show something more consistent. It was going to go from the low thirties to the upper eighties in the four days they were there. So she had to pack everything from a real jacket to short shorts. Admittedly, Becky had spent way too long selecting pajamas for her trip. As she rolled through Houston’s Intercontinental Airport, she really started second-guessing her choices. She stopped at a souvenir booth and looked at a pair of NASA pajama pants. It’s not like she had packed anything risqué. But what if Wren noticed that she had gone from her boring light blue sleep shorts to her fancy lace and silk shorts? She had argued with herself that the lace and silk shorts actually covered more of her than her short little blue sleep shorts. Wren had lounged in sweatpants the whole time and then at night had slipped them off and slept in loose boxers—not that Becky had been looking. She just had noticed the sweatpants on the ground when she had woken up early in the morning and Wren had still been sleeping. Maybe she should do the same. She could buy the NASA pajama pants and slip them off at night.

She sighed. She was overthinking it, and it didn’t matter anyway. First of all, she didn’t care what Wren thought. Second, Wren had a live-in supermodel girlfriend. On that note, she rolled out of the little travel shop without buying anything.

She quickly found her other suitcase at the baggage claim and made it to their team shuttle, waiting as a few players trickled in. Morgan Prescott sat in the seat in front of her and asked about her regular season practice schedule, and Ali O’Connell took a seat pretty far away from her. Becky shrugged it off. The way Ali had followed Wren around since Day One had told her all she needed to know. Becky flinched at the thought, reminding herself that she and Wren were friends now. There was no reason to hold anything against Ali. If she had picked sides after Becky had flipped Wren off at their photoshoot, honestly Becky couldn’t fault her for that. She made a mental note to try and get to know Ali better on this trip.

When they made it to the hotel, Becky unpacked her suitcase on the same side of the room that she had before. She didn’t think that Wren cared, but Wren had claimed her side while in a justified rage last time and maybe she had just picked the side she truly preferred. Wren hadn’t complained at all about how Becky had divided up the drawers in their dresser, so she unpacked in the same manner. She wasn’t too sure what she should do until the rest of the team showed up. So she grabbed her Kindle and flopped across the foot of her bed, scrolling through endless options in her “TBR” list.

A few hours later, there was a gentle knock on her door. She got up and checked through the little peephole. Wren was bouncing back and forth on her toes. Becky yanked the door open. “Are you okay?”

Wren laughed, pulled her into a quick hug and then tossed all her stuff on the nearest bed. “Nope. I’m about to pee my pants.” Wren beelined it for the bathroom. “Hi, by the way,” she yelled over her shoulder before she shut the bathroom door.

Becky closed the door to their hotel room. She was more than a little stunned that Wren had hugged her hello. It hadn’t been a long, lingering hug, just a casual greeting between friends, but seriously, how did she smell that good after being on a plane? Becky tried to compose herself by the time that Wren made it out of the bathroom and washed her hands at the sink.

Wren smiled at her via mirror reflection. “How has your week been?” she asked easily.

Becky smiled back. “Good. The Cougars had their first pre-season practice. So, I got to meet everyone and get some touches in. And you?”

Wren’s face fell just the slightest bit, but she forced a smile back into place and shrugged. “Same. So much conditioning.”

Becky didn’t push. She really didn’t want the details of Wren’s relationship. Their friendship was too new and too fragile, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t checked Andrea’s Instagram again this morning to see if the pictures had been taken down—they hadn’t. Wren dried her hands and spun around. “Courtney and I were going to go grab some Tex-Mex. Do you want to join us?”

In no time, their first friendly was upon them. Becky couldn’t shake the nerves in her stomach. There was something different, heavier, about wearing your country’s colors. The team passed a few soccer balls and Sharpies around, signing them for the kids who were going to walk onto the field with them. That was a first for her, too. She had practiced her signature, feeling like a total dork the entire time, but she had practiced nonetheless. Her B and R were pretty clear. The rest of the letters were just unidentifiable scribbles. She added her number, sixteen, to every signature. She knew she was a rookie and her set of scribbles might not really tell a kid who she was, but she was determined to be worth their excitement. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them, so she would treat it like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for herself.

The little kids filed in in their own teams’ uniforms and bounced with delight as the USWNT presented them with their autographed soccer balls. Becky smiled and held her head high as they all marched onto the field. She hoped the kids would be cute enough to distract from how nervous she felt, how nervous she must look. They lined up for the national anthem, shoulder to shoulder as a team, the kids standing in front of them, clearly more interested in the crowd than they were the Star Spangled Banner. Their wonder made Becky chuckle, relaxing a bit as the anthem progressed. Soccer was always the one thing she had been good at. She had earned her spot on this team and in the starting lineup, and tonight, she would prove it.

They were winning two to nothing going into the second half, and the whole team’s energy was high. They had a corner kick about ten minutes into play and the whole team pushed forward for it. Erin Rice crossed the ball into the box only for it to bounce around and get cleared in Becky’s direction. She settled it cleanly, dribbled past an opponent, and looked back downfield. Wren was setting up a beautiful run, edging the offside line. Becky kicked the ball just over the line of defenders, setting Wren up for a footrace against Mexico’s sweeper and oncoming keeper.

Wren took one touch, easing the ball out of the keeper’s reach, and easily slotted her shot into the net. The crowd went wild. For the first time all night, Becky paid attention to the stadium’s announcers.

“Well, folks, this is a first, hopefully of many to come, but Rothschild with the assist to Eames. The US are up three to nothing with thirty minutes left of play.”

Becky sprinted across the field, following her teams’ celebration as Wren was being hugged by the whole team at once. When the big team hug ended and they all started their walk back to their own half for the opposing team’s kickoff Wren jogged over to Becky and threw an arm around her shoulder. She gave her a quick squeeze and held her other fist up, waiting for Becky to bump it.

“Nice pass, Rebecca,” Wren said with a wink and a face of pure joy, her dimples cutting into her cheeks deeper than Becky had ever seen them.

Becky couldn’t help but let out a flustered little giggle. She composed herself though, realizing this was going to be on every major sports news outlet for the next week to come. “Thanks for not fucking up my hard work, Eames,” she shot back with a smirk of her own as she knocked her fist against Wren’s.

Wren threw her head back with a laugh and let go of Becky’s shoulder. “We should do this again sometime,” Wren said, shooting finger guns at Becky and jogging back to her spot on the field.

Becky resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The world was watching, and she really didn’t want them to have any takeaway other than the fact that she and Wren could be good teammates and they could work really well together.

That evening, the team went out to celebrate. Everyone was in good spirits and the drinks were flowing. Becky wasn’t much of a drinker. Between her small town, her strict parents, and one night at a soccer camp six years prior, ‘cutting loose’ had never really appealed to her. Tonight was different though. She had gotten an assist, Wren had scored, and their team had demolished Mexico’s National Team. Morgan Prescott came back to their VIP booth followed by two shirtless men carrying trays of shots.

“This round is on me, ladies!” Morgan yelled over the thumping music.

Becky hated shots because she couldn’t nurse the same one all night, but she wasn’t about to not take them with the rest of her team. She was squished in the booth between Allison Martins and Danielle Rodriguez. They had been on the team for almost a decade now and they held their glasses up to the center of the table, waiting for all the other players to do the same.

“To victory,” Danielle said.

“To a lot of you babies getting your first caps tonight,” Courtney Sinclair added.

“And a few first goals,” Danielle added.

“Let’s fucking go!” Morgan yelled. She slammed her shot down onto the table then threw it back, drinking it easily in one gulp.

The rest of the team, Becky included, followed suit. Straight vodka. Becky’s whole body burned. She hated vodka, too many good memories lingered in the burn. Her eyes finally came into focus to find Wren watching her like she remembered what it tasted like on her lips. No, that couldn’t be the reason. There’s no way Wren remembered that they had been drinking vodka all those nights ago at camp. That couldn’t be the reason she was watching Becky so intently from across the table. It had to be something else. Maybe she was just zoning, too. Finally, their eye contact broke and Wren turned back to Ali to laugh at whatever the redhead had said.

Becky shook off the urge to roll her eyes. She looked down at the glasses in front of her. Her water was empty. Her only option to rinse the vodka out of her mouth was a very dry red wine. The combination was tragic. She downed the wine quickly and had to crawl over half of the team to get up to get something new to drink. She wanted something fruity and sweet, anything that would mask the flavor of everything she had just had.