Chapter Text
Holy shit.
Natalie has a girlfriend.
A whole ass, real, committed, beautiful girlfriend. In the flesh. Who likes likes her and wants to be with her.
Said girlfriend is Lottie fucking Matthews.
Sorry, Charlotte fucking Matthews. Yeah. Full government name. The girl who shamelessly teased her practically from the moment they met, sinking her teeth into Natalie’s neck and leaving more than one lasting mark. The girl who caught everyone’s attention at parties, at bars, in crowds, who permanently inhabited Natalie’s mind from their first interaction.
Natalie Scatorccio has a girlfriend. A partner. Someone who wants to grow with her. She thanks whatever divine being is up there, whatever stars in astrology were aligning or being in retrograde, whoever was holding her voodoo doll. Something like that.
It’s unheard of. To be with someone this gorgeous. Surreal. She’ll be damned.
The girlfriend of her dreams, both inside and out.
Lottie agreeing while Natalie’s head was between her legs was a sight to behold (not that she was expecting her to say no or anything), her body surrendering before her mouth could, grinding uncontrollably against Natalie’s mouth, hips bucking wildly, no complaints to be had.
Natalie didn’t stop either, not when she felt Lottie trembling and moaning out a plethora of don’t stop, that feels so fucking good, keep going baby, fuck Natalie, right there, i’m going to come, nor when her head was getting absolutely crushed. Honestly, she deserves an award for persisting, nearly giving herself lock jaw and dying from asphyxiation making Lottie come numerous times (we can talk about it later because fuck yeah) with only her mouth and sheer, unyielding willpower.
The determination to completely unravel Lottie overtook any incoming cramp. She knew when it was coming, evident by the way Lottie’s thighs began to quiver, threatening to close while her torso squirmed. Hours in, Natalie’s chin was coated in Lottie (or more accurately, her entire face), and to die that way would have been heavenly in her book.
Giving head wasn’t Natalie’s favorite activity usually; in fact, it was often boring and previously deeply unsatisfying, but she is 100% being dead ass when she says this: Lottie. tastes. so. fucking. good. Maybe she’s just really into her. If it was possible, Natalie could spend an eternity here, in between her legs lapping like a rabid animal who has never seen water before. Lottie tasted sweet, something like nectar, even when Natalie ran her tongue across her salted skin, the combination addictive and delightful.
Natalie learned two things from the experience. The first being Lottie turned her on with minimal effort truthfully. A simple graze of her arm, the hovering of her lips, even something as small as a glance over–all of it went straight to Natalie’s core. The second? Lottie’s thighs are strong as hell. Truly an elite soccer athlete. At this point, Natalie would gladly bet Lottie’s thighs could crush a watermelon in seconds.
“Of course I’ll be yours,” Lottie whimpered as she shattered for the umpteenth on the tip of her tongue, and Natalie is almost sure she hears her whisper “I’ve always been yours” which evokes a shudder from them both.
Almost.
Of course and always, two different answers that ultimately solidified the same thing: certainty. A definitive answer leaving no room for doubt, forcing insecurity out of the picture. Something different, an unspoken agreement which suddenly didn’t feel empty anymore.
Everything shifted from that moment.
It felt a bit silly how excited Natalie was. Texting and calling nonstop, cheesing at her phone so much her jaw was starting to hurt, sleeping with her phone charged in and waking up with it nearly burning her cheek from being on Facetime all night and killing the battery. She felt like a teenager in high school, eagerly awaiting a response from Lottie, wanting to know all the nuanced details like how she liked brownies but wasn’t a fan of chocolate ice cream, how she ate her fries first before her burgers because she didn’t want them to get cold, the excitement that coursed through her when she discovered a new song, how intent she was on listening to it over and over because of the feelings it evoked to the point where Natalie involuntarily ended up learning the songs too.
Lottie felt things so deeply.
As their new relationship started to unfold, the exploration between them was ongoing.
First, it was only the honeymoon phase. Cute and soft and light, like high school love. Gelato dates, overpriced brunch, a concert here and there, laughing about random things and learning all of the superficial—favorite foods, colors, things to do on the weekend. Lottie leaves sticky notes in random notebooks for her to find, each one growing more and more gushy. Natalie quietly kept her favorite one tucked away into the back of her phone, hidden behind her thick phone case.
It wasn’t much to the naked eye, a simple scribble reading “hey loser” with a lopsided heart to punctuate it, but for Natalie, it made her entire week. She was about an exhale away from crashing out, the stress from school looming. Lottie kissed her in passing quickly one day prior to one of her midterms and stuck it inside her backpack attached to a small bag filled with goodies, her favorite chips and candy to be exact.
Then it got deeper. Natalie, now a willing participant, opened up more about Travis. How things never quite felt right even when she was happy with him. Lottie always asked questions, only to deepen her understanding, seemingly wanting to have every detail to process and experience it with her.
They burn a couple of old photos together, ghosts from past relationships, the fire crackling and roaring loudly when it was fed. Natalie threw everything Travis into the flames, even the old Simple Plan shirt he got her when they healed their inner teenagers going to that concert, a lazy black band with barely legible font she loved so much. They burn marshmallows to squish into s'mores over the fire and traded secrets and scars that didn’t feel as big once they shared them aloud, taking turns peeling back each other’s layers. The broken memories, tainted moments, and all of the things Natalie didn’t know she was hiding started to feel less shameful and much more palatable.
She lets go.
Lottie unpacked her tumultuous relationship with her parents, how her dad was absent for most of her life, her mom not much better. She even unveiled a phrase that stuck permanently with Natalie: “I love my parents, but I don’t think I like them very much.”
Natalie had never thought of it that way, never given herself the chance to entertain disdain towards the people who raised her.
Not until then.
It was validating to know two things could exist simultaneously. She could appreciate her parents for what they could do for her at the time, the bare minimum of food, water, and shelter primarily, but she could hate them too, for the way they squashed her self esteem and ran her through the emotional wringer. The vile feelings she felt towards her parents plagued her for much of her life, and knowing there was space for this emotion felt freeing.
They talked about hyper independence, something the brunette undoubtedly suffered from, hardly ever wanting to ask for help or even realizing she needed it. How she learned to adapt to neglect. This conversation spurs something in Natalie.
She starts healing.
Before, Natalie always thought healing meant morphing into the best version of yourself. It’s why things never worked out with other people. She never felt at her best, hardly ever felt good enough to begin with. Now, she’s learning it actually might be letting the worst version of yourself be loved—by both yourself and the people around you. Lottie kept exposing more and more of unfiltered Natalie and kept wanting.
They divulge into loneliness, an ache they were so often plagued with. Natalie started to process how people could feel the same things so differently. Natalie, often feeling loneliness when she was actually alone, teenaged her lying in the darkness of her room blasting music in her headphones to try and drown out the pain. Lottie, on the other hand, sharing how loneliness haunted her most when she was around others, a huge college classroom with 300+ other people where you just know they’re trying to weed people out, a booming sorority party where there is a choral chanting of “chug, chug, chug,” a concert with nosebleed seats where the artist looks no bigger than a speck.
Speaking of alcohol, Natalie shared her old drinking issue — issue felt like the most appropriate term for it when she finally felt comfortable enough to mention it — the nights where she wishes she could have remembered, the times where her mind wanted to give up but her body never let her, always working diligently to cleanse itself of the poison she was bombarding herself with, the reason why she thinks she smokes now—half habit and half coping. Lottie doesn’t blink twice, only absorbs everything being bombarded at her, always taking a moment to synthesize before speaking. She doesn’t preach, doesn’t beg her to quit anything or do something she doesn’t want to do. It feels uncomfortable to Natalie, trauma dumping on a person this way, but Lottie welcomes it.
Seeing the bottom of a bottle, in a fucked up way, made her feel closer to her dad. Trying to see what he saw. Feel what he felt. Some nights she found herself looking hard, peering down different numerous bottles and cans for an answer, only to come up empty each time. She never forgave him for how he treated her and her mother when he was intoxicated, a hand or his words always dealing permanent damage, but she certainly had a bit more grace for him once she realized just how bad an alcoholic addiction can be.
Lottie was thoughtful. Considerate. She showed up with some sort of iced latte on the days Natalie felt like shit, offered her the last bite of things when they shared food, and even shared songs she thought Natalie would enjoy, all simple yet effective ways to say I thought of you today.
Bit by bit, Natalie gets better at accepting these big and small gestures. For most things, being told one time solidified it in Lottie’s mind which was such a refreshing experience. Boys never bothered to remember, even past girls Natalie would date wouldn’t bother. Lottie noticed things. Cared about her. Showed her she cared about her in the most gentle yet firm of ways.
Consistently.
Consistency was the key basically, the stitches sewing Natalie’s broken pieces together. Having someone who said what they said and did what they were going to say versus flaking out or blatantly lying. Trusting Lottie was easy, effortless.
By now, on Natalie’s end, the midfielder knows Lottie’s silhouette like the back of her hand, the way her body arches when she’s on the cusp, the unholy sounds she makes when she’s about to fall apart and knows the way her body clenches around her when she does. She even picked up certain tendencies and quirks, like how Lottie put on socks first before she put on pants; Natalie also laughed at how Lottie consistently drew a smiley face when she tipped and signed at restaurants. Lottie was someone who was hard not to admire. One night on their way home from a movie date, they passed what seemed to be a horrid car accident. Lottie begged Natalie to stop so she could get out and see if the person was okay. The blonde obliged and dialed 911, watching in awe as something in Lottie took over, comforting the nearly unconscious man and calming bystanders in the situation. The situation stays with her, ingraining just how selfless and kindhearted Lottie is.
Natalie starts to understand herself better too, having the wherewithal to realize that she has always craved comfort in both words and physical touch, for someone to tell her it’s okay to feel like shit, okay to let go and not constantly pretend to be strong. She didn’t need the fluff, didn’t want to be coddled or pitied. Lottie gives her all of it whether she asks for it or not, the space to express herself, to be a mess, a storm, a hurricane.
At her worst, Natalie feels she’s in the storm, but lately? Lottie was empowering her to realize evidently she is the storm–strong, tumultuous, a sight to behold, a force to be reckoned with.
She has always been the storm.
Equipped with confidence and reassurance, her body starts to relax with every passing day, unresolved past tensions and traumas previously manifesting as somatic issues beginning to slowly subside. Her negative thoughts quietly submerged.
She feels safe for the first time in years.
Secure.
Present.
Diligent Captain Jackie insisted on one final practice before their championship game, the group chat blowing up in the blink of an eye, the red blob notification spiking from 1 to 100. Immediate responses fired, each one filled with sarcasm and sass.
Jackie: practice tomorrow so we’re not rusty. like if you can make it
Mari: bruh how are you gonna tell us the night before
Shauna: bitch it’s not like you had plans, Danny Mears ghosted you
Van: ouch, tea
Mari: fuck you shipman, eat a dick
Taissa: ew Mari please
Shauna: you first Mari
Jackie: um hello??? you bitches better all like it ^^^^
Van: chill cap you know we don’t want to lose, we’ll be there
Quietly, in the comfort of her own bed, Natalie scrolls quickly to catch up on notifications, laughing at her idiotic teammates and the rapid notification avalanche as everyone quickly obliges.
Lot: yo
Lot: can I lick you up before the game?
Natalie raises an eyebrow, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard preparing a smart ass response. Lottie, with her rapid Twitter fingers, sends a slew of messages in rapid succession.
Lot: pick you up*
Oh. Totally different request. Well—
Lot: actually no lmao
Lot: I meant what I said before
Nat chuckles to herself. No matter how much time elapsed, the fact of the matter was still the same: this girl is still unreal.
Natalie: you’re such a dork
Lot: dork is crazy tbh
Seconds later, Lottie sends a casual standing selfie, revealing her body perfectly stretched in front of a mirror, this time in a sports bra and boy shorts, the photo cutting right above her widened smile, lips pink and full, that damn belly button ring gleaming.
Fucking tease.
Get you a woman who can do both. Lottie could rock the more tomboy femme look no problem, and man Natalie was into it. Come to think of it, it’s probably why Lottie got hit on by all sorts of people, men and women and nonbinary folks. Hotness doesn’t discriminate. Lottie could probably shave her head and Natalie would still be on her knees and barking if she was asked.
Lot: still think dork is the right adjective?
Natalie: fuck
Lot: exactly what I’m tryna do, I’m omw
The speed at which Lottie makes it over is both tremendously commendable and alarming. Geographically, the distance between them is approximately 6 miles, so ~12ish minutes, maybe upwards of 15 to 20 on a jam packed traffic day. Lottie gets there in no more than five. Natalie was in the middle of folding her laundry, mid bout with losing her favorite pair of socks before a series of obnoxious knocks came banging on her door.
For a moment, the thought of offering Lottie her spare key zips into Natalie’s mind. How very U-Hauly of her. She wasn’t sure how ready she was for that sort of commitment, but by now Lottie was over so often it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference. Instead, Natalie tables the idea as her hormones get the best of her. She shuffles towards her front door, the metal doorknob cold against her hand.
“Hey.” Lottie grins lopsided and innocently, her eyes lighting up as Natalie opens the door for her.
The brunette leans in, smoothly kissing Natalie softly on the lips before taking a step back to stand idly at the door like she doesn’t have ulterior motives, like she didn’t just rush over here to fuck her brains out. Natalie is already shooting her a really? look.
“You need an invitation to come in or what? Fucking princess,” Natalie teases, impatient as her cheeks are already flaring from the singular kiss. It hadn’t even been long since they’d last seen each other, two days tops, and yet there she was, her body already craving Lottie’s fingertips like it had been touch deprived all her life.
There’s no response which becomes a little worrisome, Natalie already starting to feel clammy.
“Hello? Earth to Lottie?”
Alarmingly, Lottie continues to stare silently, dazed and detached, expressionless and hard to read, completely disregarding the question.
Giving it a moment before trying again, Natalie still comes up empty. “Uh, Charlotte?” Her voice is louder this time, more concerned, her body leaning awkwardly against the doorway as she realizes she’s never said her actual first name aloud before.
Blinking slowly, Lottie shakes her head like she’s snapping herself out of a trance, she steps in closer, inches away from Natalie’s lips, daring to push the envelope. “Sorry it’s just…”
A slow pause cuts between them.
“You are so damn beautiful you know,” her voice gliding smooth as butter as she pulls her in by her waist, her hand immediately settling on the small of her back.
Looking down at herself, Natalie almost doesn’t believe it. Truly can’t believe her ears or Lottie’s eyes honestly. She’s in tattered shorts and a raggedy old t-shirt with holes in it from a random organization event she went to freshman year, the design wilting away with every laundry cycle, something she threw on this morning and never looked back from. Sometimes, Natalie wishes she could see herself from other people’s eyes. Especially Lottie’s. How could she see anything beyond the mess that she felt like she was?
“I can’t get enough of you.”
Her groan is immediate, pulling her inside and slamming the door behind them. Sweet Lottie was someone she was trying to get accustomed to, the compliments raining down with ease.
Lottie had a way with words no matter what situation.
Still, sweet Lottie was no different from the usual her, still retaining responsibility for the deluge between Natalie’s legs all the same.
“You can’t say shit like that and not expect me to get worked up,” Natalie growls, her lips double timing to every inch of skin she could reach as she forces Lottie against the back of the door. Their mouths meet hastily, Lottie taking charge and sucking Natalie’s tongue for the first time, causing her breath to hitch.
All restraint goes out the window. Suddenly there were too many clothes obstructing them, too much space in between. She needed Lottie. Now.
“Considering I just sent you a half-naked selfie and I know exactly what I do to you, I fully anticipate you being turned on,” Lottie teases, voice made entirely of confidence, already working to pull her top off.
They ride together to practice, Lottie’s hand resting comfortably on Natalie’s thigh in the car, like she had been made to do just that. Natalie has her arm draped out the window, feeling the breeze in between her fingers, her hair tousled. Lottie is laughing, carefree and easy as they chit-chat about superficial nothings.
“Can I play a song for you?” Natalie asks, already reaching to queue up the song knowing Lottie would approve. “It’s one of my favorites right now.”
“Go for it baby.”
The pet names have increased lately, at least from Lottie’s perspective. She mixed it up constantly, a variation of babe, baby, love, and baby girl as of late. Baby girl was arguably Natalie’s favorite of the bunch, but baby was a classic Lottie often settled on.
Natalie, on the other hand, was still working up the courage to return the favor, almost letting herself go earlier when Lottie was curling her fingers inside her.
She looks at Lottie as the music plays, studying her face carefully. A tight little knit in her eyebrow inhabits her face as she listens intently, deciphering through the melody, the lyrics, and the artist’s voice.
Hands under the table
We can skip the label
I hung up my halo
Didn't I, didn't I?
Laying all my cards out
Paying for the next round
Kiss me with the lights out
Of the night, of the night
You can take the wheel, but I'ma backseat drive it
Four-letter feelings, that's a next-day problem
It gets me going when I know you're lying
But I like it
'Cause I drink too much, smoking with his arm around me
No, don't make me blush, I like when you don't care about me
And I make enough that you could be my sugar baby
Yeah, you could be my sugar baby
Hit me where it don't hurt
Pay me in exposure
Yeah, you could be my chauffeur
Anytime, anytime
Oh, anytime (Feels like getting high)
You can take the wheel, but I'ma backseat drive it
Four-letter feelings, that's a next-day problem
It gets me going when I know you're lying
But I like it, but I like it
'Cause I drink too much, smoking with his arm around me
No, don't make me blush, I like when you don't care about me
And I make enough that you could be my sugar baby
Yeah, you could be my sugar baby
Lottie nods her head when the chorus repeats, already casually learning the lyrics and singing along, her voice low and shy now. The song, at least to Natalie, feels like sunshine–warm, embracing, positive, upbeat. It reminded her of Lottie as soon as she heard it. Not a confessional or anything, just her own way to reciprocate the notion of you’re always on my mind.
“I love…it,” her girlfriend finally decides to say, patiently waiting until the end of the song before weighing in. Lottie quietly adds the song to her library and shuts the car off after backing into a parking spot when they reach the fields, the sun bleeding dark orange as it begins to set.
The intramural festivities are poppin’ today, rambunctious and busy with numerous bodies everywhere. Sand volleyball was happening tonight, whistles loudly blowing point by point, arms flying in the air for blocks. Soccer, per usual, had a bunch of unorganized pickup games going on. There was only one small part of a field still open, so they probably needed to hurry.
“I want to kiss you so bad,” the confession coming out hoarse, like Lottie’s throat is dry. Lottie blurts it unapologetically, still full of lust despite them hooking up prior to this.
“You drive me crazy Nat.”
“Who said you couldn’t?” Natalie is no better, already surging forward, not waiting for an answer. Slotting easily into Lottie’s lap, her hips automatically grind deeply, spurring the two of them to share saliva and shameless moans.
Limbs blur together as they’re skin-to-skin, mouths practically glued together. Lottie meets her pace and pants hard, her fingers digging into Natalie’s thighs to rub circles, pushing her shorts up higher and higher. Natalie kisses her deeper, rolling her body as she places her hands on the headrest of the car seat to steady herself. Lottie cups Natalie over her underwear, feeling the wetness and biting her lip to quiet the moan in response. Their movements are still fast but more precise now, both of them knowing exactly how hard or how soft to go. “Fuck baby, we won’t make it to practice if you—”
Their bodies jump apart after hearing a loud thudding on the car window, the panic making Natalie clunk her head hard on the car ceiling. “Ow, fuck.”
“Stop sucking face and get to practice!”
It’s Jackie’s voice, way too loud and laced primarily with tease as her and Shauna saunter by, Jackie having banged her soccer ball on Lottie’s car.
“Cockblocker!” Van cackles from a few steps behind with Taissa right beside her. “Our captain is homophobic y’all!”
“Suck my whole ass Jackie,” Natalie yells back after rubbing her head, practically already feeling a bruise wanting to develop.
Lottie looks at her and the two of them share a sliver of silence before cracking up, the situation reminiscent of being caught kissing by a teacher in middle school. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” Natalie all but groans, instantly soothed by Lottie’s tone. "Just trying to brace myself. I know they’re about to give me shit.”
“Come on,” Lottie grins, stepping out confidently and opening the car door for her. “How bad could it possibly be?”
They don’t go more than three seconds before being heckled by the team.
“Uh-oh, did you two lovebirds finally get together?” Mari jokes, making a loud siren noise as she sees Natalie and Lottie approaching together, fingers intertwined for a brief moment. “Natalie and Lottie sitting in a tree…”
“Mari, how old are we again?” Natalie mutters, her eyes going wide despite her attempt to prepare herself, meanwhile Lottie doesn’t even blink twice. Polar opposites.
Natalie is already up to her thirteenth reason for why she was going to kill Mari.
“What, you thought we were all blind and dumb?” Mari laughs, tightening her laces and pulling a piece of prewrap onto her hair. “I knew the moment you laid eyes on her.”
Lottie is already opening her mouth to reply, amused at the situation, so Natalie interjects a harmless “Oh fuck off Mari” before sharply elbowing her in attempt to squash things.
“No, no,” Lottie smirks. “Please. Say more.”
Mari doesn’t need anyone to enable her. In fact, she’s usually the person doing it.
“Scatorccio here doesn’t ever bother looking at anyone. She hates people.” Mari immediately snitches, unfazed, the betrayal making Natalie feign a grimace. “That is,” the offensive player takes a moment to pause for unnecessary emphasis, one of her favorite bits to do. “Unless she wants to jump their bones. And you? Shit, I’d jump your bones. I think we all would.”
Scratch that. Make that her fourteenth reason.
Natalie can barely register Mari’s jab and her unsolicited bicurious(?) confession (because wait, did she really say that? Jokingly or not…) before several other comments start piling in.
“It’s probably a good time for me to say I definitely saw your neck that one night dude,” Van chimes in, cackling from her stomach. “Didn’t realize Lottie was a fucking vampire.”
“Oh that’s not—” Natalie tries hesitantly before someone else cuts her off. She must have opened up Pandora’s box. The entire squad carrying on with their roasting, the laughter smushed together and high-pitched like they’re a pack of hyenas.
“I personally thought we were gonna have to call someone because Natalie was being physically abused that night,” Shauna chimes in, laughing equally as cruelly.
Geez. The feeling of shame burns down Natalie’s spine, embarrassed at how easily she was being read. She knew she wasn’t exactly being careful that night, and that her friends weren’t blind, and they certainly weren’t dumb either, but she wasn’t ready to be bombarded like this. Apparently, it was Let’s Jump Natalie Day, and everyone knew except for Natalie.
Even blunt, stoic Taissa had something to say as she rolled her eyes. “I owed Van money from losing a bet thinking you two would get together sooner. I was sure it would have been way before this,” she shakes her head in defeat.
“Easiest twenty bucks I’ve ever made,” Van validates, the smile on her face permanent. “Thanks for being a yearning gay and funding my dinner the other night.”
That one is new and slightly weird to hear. Natalie has never been the yearning type. The bet, however, is classic TaiVan. Natalie once made fifty bucks betting with them on how long it would take Jackie to realize Shayna was in love with her.
“Has Lottie fucked you in a locker room yet?” Mari jokes, and that one gets an even sharper jab to her gut.
"I don't think that's information we necessarily need Mar," Jackie declares firmly as she sets up practice cones along the field, enclosing a perimeter around them before pulling the miniature goals out. There’s the most minuscule twinkle in her eye when she says it, and suddenly the weight of her words feel different.
It’s out of love, Natalie has to remind herself. They’re being supportive. In a goofy way. You’d be the same.
Beside her, Lottie is chuckling, her ears tinged with pink, seemingly enjoying everything in her usual unbothered manner.
It’s different.
None of them ever liked Travis much even though they tried. Several times. Taissa wasn’t shy about not wanting to be around him after the first interaction, her being rubbed the wrong way over something small. A man’s best is a lesbians bare minimum, she had said. Jackie and Shauna made valiant attempts but typically ended up sneaking away to hook-up. Van tolerated him best, the two of them bonding over band and music. Travis tried too. Sometimes. Maybe. But as Mari would say, “the vibes were off.”
The Yellowjackets, on the contrary, loved Lottie. From the get go. Independently of Natalie. She enjoyed that, that they were still regarded as two different, individual people instead of a packaged deal. The last thing she wanted was to become one of those couples that only hung out with each other and forgot about everyone else around them. Ultimate ick.
“Okay all right I got it.” Natalie had enough of the tag team roasting and being doggy piled. “I think I have officially passed away from embarrassment, so feel free to start writing my obituary. You guys done now? Can we get to some soccer please?”
“For what it’s worth,” Akilah sweetly slides in, curbing the chaos as she usually does and keeping the peace. “I think you guys are cute.”
Practice runs smoothly. Touches are positive all around, the energy never lacking. They focus on small sided scrimmaging, pushing pace and upping intensity. The team chemistry hasn’t missed a beat, the right pass being played at the right times. In one semester, their teamwork had grown exponentially. They all knew which players wanted the ball strictly to feet, the ones who wanted the ball in space, those who could make do with either. They figured out which people should take penalties and which ones should stay far away from the situation. They felt prepared.
“So it was Lottie,” Jackie later mentions again as they’re in line for a shooting drill together, her voice lingering on curiosity. “When you called me freaking out about your little first date that one time.” Natalie hangs her head low, feeling ashamed like she’d gotten busted lying to her mom or something.
“Yeah.”
Jackie sounded disappointed, more so at the fact that Natalie didn’t tell her sooner. “I had a feeling. Gosh, that was so long ago,” their captain softly chuckles as they watch Mari sky a shot over the bar and immediately string together a sentence of absurd swears after. “What took you so long to get together? I could cut the tension with a knife when we first met her at pick-up.”
Not Jackie knowing from the start too.
“Uh,” Natalie pauses, an immediate burning coursing through her chest. “I didn’t want to rush is the short answer.”
“And the long?”
“I was dodging her, well, us, because I was scared,” the truth sounding downright silly as the words solidify aloud, “I mean I just didn’t think I was going to be ready to be in a relationship.” Natalie sighs. “I mean I still kind of don’t.”
She was fighting self-doubt hard. Every single day.
“Lottie seems good for you,” Jackie counters quickly as they inch closer and closer to being up next to shoot, stopping the negative spiraling. “You look happier.”
The reassurance feels cathartic.
I feel happier.
I am happier.
Not wasting time with pointless one night stands felt glorious. She would trade all the clubs, parties, late night shenanigans for an evening with Lottie where they’re sitting and doing absolutely nothing.
“Why didn’t any of you say anything?”
“Because you’re the type of person who needs to figure it out yourself,” Jackie clarifies as she calls for the ball from Akilah. The ball gets sent with the perfect amount of pace, allowing Jackie to take a precise touch forward to set herself up to shoot. She turns around and leaves Natalie with one final tidbit before shooting. “Would you have really listened to any of us if we told you to stop dicking around and just date already?”
“Probably not,” Natalie huffs out a low laugh. She knows herself. She definitely would have ignored every single one of them and muted the inevitable alternate group chat that would have been made, probably by Van, where all of them would take a stab at reasoning why her and Lottie should date. It would have made things weird.
Ultimately, Natalie decides to be thankful for her friends not doing too much, for letting her get there on her own terms.
Soccer practice goes for an hour longer than planned, partially because everyone is enjoying themselves, and mostly because nobody wants to go home as a loser. Natalie had been feeling it, slicing and dicing through a variety of different tackles and delivering balls on a platter for her teammates. They kept their scrimmages small, limited to only the Yellowjackets and shooing away all other random stragglers to get as much time together as possible prior to the championship.
“Okay seriously, golden goal for real!” Jackie decides as she checks her Apple watch after Shauna emphatically blasts in a goal.
The ball gets moved quickly, everyone suddenly motivated by a decisive way to end the night. Taissa commanding the possession and taking on before squaring it decisively to Lottie.
Lottie scores the last goal with conviction, dragging the ball with her left foot before ripping through it with her laces. The women on her team cheer and gloat as Lottie calls game despite Mari persisting and wanting one more play, throwing in bullshit excuses for why they got scored on and deserved one last chance. Akilah has to pull her away, giggling the entire time as she watches her best friend have an unnecessary meltdown from being a bit too competitive.
The lights at the field are starting to slowly dwindle, the usual announcement of closing within the next fifteen minutes blares over the intercom.
Post-celebration, there’s a different voice.
“Wow, so are you secretly a striker too?”
Natalie knows that tone. Cocky, too familiar. Too comfortable. There can never be a moment of peace can there?
The blonde is working to put the practice cones and pop-up goals away with Van before looking up and seeing a vague memory from the past.
Her body shudders, rapidly activating her fight-or-flight response.
It’s none other than the forward from the first intramural game of the semester, the one who scored two goals on them and proceeded to shamelessly hit on Lottie right after. The one she tackled the shit out of.
Dark brown hair, gleaming blue eyes, perfectly toned body. A sweaty threat deceivingly wrapped in sweetness.
“Callie,” Lottie half-smiles, shaking her head in surprise. “Hey.”
“Hey stranger. You out here hustling?” Callie jokes, grinning a little too hard as she steps in closer and lets her hair down, perfect and flowing, not a strand out of place somehow despite her obviously coming from a different pick up game. Prissy bitch. “Been a while,” the statement cracking a door open and inviting Lottie in.
Natalie starts to briefly wonder about their history, what they texted about in the past. If they texted.
Lottie hums either in contemplation or agreement, prolonging the small talk for a moment. “I guess it has, hasn’t it?”
The thing about dating a selfless, kind-hearted person, is sometimes they don’t know they’re being hit on. Lottie, to her credit, felt like she usually knew and had a firm grasp on most situations which she did, but despite the knowledge, she still stayed courteous, extending things because she didn’t want the other person (or people, because let’s be real, Lottie got hit on a lot) to feel bad. People took it the wrong way most of the time, thinking it was an opportunity for advancement. Free drinks, an extra appetizer on the house, another refill of something. All gifts from desperate people showering Lottie in an attempt to woo her.
Callie is no different and definitely more daring.
Quick to the chase, Callie wastes no time revealing her intentions. “Look,” She takes Lottie’s hand and slowly guides it down her leg, making her graze her thigh before stopping over a faded scar. “Can’t get you off of me I guess,” she winks, and boy Natalie is sick from afar. Deja vu haunts her all over again, her fist already clenching.
“Not that that’s a problem,” Callie adds, flirtatious and daring as she bites softly on her own lip.
This time though, things are different.
Natalie is able to ground herself. She knows she has full reign over this situation. Instead of fuming, she simply jogs over as something in Lottie visibly shifts, the brunette retracting her hand almost immediately.
It’s not that she doesn’t trust Lottie, because she truly does. It’s other people Natalie worries about.
Without even giving it a second thought, Natalie full sends it. “Hey babe,” she interrupts, the words easily spewing out of her mouth, her arm reaching to grip Lottie’s waist, subtly tightening as she intentionally pays the striker no mind. The pet name catches Lottie off guard, the defender practically melting into her upon initial contact. Natalie feels it, the way Lottie’s body relaxes against her touch. She ponders asking something like who’s your friend but quite frankly, she doesn’t care. Doesn’t want or need an answer.
Instead, Natalie settles for something simpler, punctuating it with a hard squeeze of her covetous fingers. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Lottie exhales shakily, her eyes fixating on Natalie’s mouth and refusing to look elsewhere. It’s one of the few rare times Natalie has seen Lottie anything but cool, and god does that feel good. She almost wants to extend the conversation to revel in it, overtly prideful she’s the cause. “Later Callie.”
Callie, still standing there unapologetically, raises an eyebrow and surveys the situation, like she’s trying to decide if the battle is worth fighting. “Hm,” is the only sound she gets out before decidedly walking away without much fuss, rejoining another group of soccer players.
The two of them trek back to Lottie’s car in comfortable silence, fingers interlocked again. Natalie is proud of herself.
“Guess I should make you jealous more often,” Lottie finally teases as she sits in the driver’s seat. “Didn’t think it would take this long, let alone an awkward interaction for you to call me something other than my name.” The words aren’t meant to hurt, though they come out prickly to Natalie anyway.
“Please don’t,” a frown quickly escaping and settling on Natalie’s face as she practically pouts while she gets into the car.
“No?" Lottie pushes, failing miserably at hiding a curling smirk. Shaky, timid Lottie, the girl from less than two minutes ago, flustered and nervous from being called "babe" had quickly morphed back into her element. "I’m sure Callie would love to call me baby, pretty sure she’s actually tried to before through text.”
“Lottie,” Natalie grumbles, the annoying flare of bitterness making its way back to her, an ill-tempered comeback already working its way onto her tongue, a reactive protest with a million variations loaded. It’s short-lived because Lottie’s lips find the shell of her earlobe. The past few hours were ridiculously emotionally charged, everything surmounting into unwanted jealousy.
“Babe, huh?” she whispers, aching as she closes the space between them, noses nearly touching. “It sounds good when you say it.” Lottie reaches over to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the corner of Natalie’s mouth. The blonde can barely control her body, already trembling maybe from the tenderness of the situation or maybe from pure jealousy.
Lottie reads the situation, reads Natalie, perfectly. “You don't need to be jealous,” the words a blanketed reminder, a promise, a pledge to her.
It’s unmistakable now, heard clear as day when Lottie’s lips hover against Natalie’s.
“I’ve always been yours.”