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It’s nearly ten o’clock when Shirley falls asleep. Carson waits a few minutes more before she moves, long enough to be certain that Shirley is really out, that the sound of footsteps won’t wake her. When she’s sure, Carson sneaks out of their room, into the hallway, and slowly pulls the door closed behind her. She steps over the creaky part of the floorboard, raps her knuckles softly against Greta’s door two times, and takes a step back to wait for an answer. She prays that Jess will already be asleep too—or, even better, out somewhere for the night.
“Yeah?” Jess’ voice calls from inside.
Carson sighs.
For one night, she wishes there was space to be alone with Greta that didn’t involve dust and cobwebs. No bark poking into her skin or cramped car interiors. She wishes they had a space to exist in together, just for a second, without half the team shoving themselves into the middle of their moment.
Carson opens the door to find Greta reclined on her bed, wearing a low cut, silk sleep shirt that skids Carson’s heart to a halt. Greta lowers the book in her hands and smiles pleasantly, as if she can’t see Carson imploding where she stands.
Jess sits on her own bed in boxers and an undershirt, a guitar perched in her lap. She stops tuning the strings as Carson enters the room, draping her left hand over the neck and looking from Carson to Greta and back.
“What can we do for you, Shaw?” Greta asks.
“Uh…” Carson starts, but it’s so easy to forget how to speak when Greta’s smirking at her like that. Like she knows exactly what Carson wants, and is going to make her squirm for it anyway.
“If that rash came back, it’s probably contagious,” Jess says.
Greta’s smile broadens. Carson can’t look at either of them.
“No, I, um…” She stares at her hands instead, interlaces her fingers and exhales a shaky breath. “I was just wondering if—you know, since we’ve got that travel game coming up—if, Greta…”
She chances a glance back up. Greta raises an eyebrow at her, no help at all.
“Could we maybe go over some notes?” Carson asks. “You know, just… specific ones to you. First base.”
Greta nods slowly and lays her book on the night stand. “Sure. Anything to be prepared for the big game, right?”
“Right. Yeah.” Carson hates how breathless she is. How flustered, just from sharing space with Greta. Just from thinking about getting to kiss her again. Just like always.
“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs. Five minutes?”
Carson’s nodding, backing out of the room, her stomach already filling up with butterflies when Jess stands.
“You know what? Shit. I’m outta smokes,” Jess says. She props her guitar against the wall and bends down, patting her pants where they lay crumpled on the floor to confirm the pockets are empty. “Gotta run to the store. You two need anything?” She pulls on her pants and looks between the two of them once again.
Greta shakes her head. “I don’t. Carson?”
It takes Carson a moment to comprehend what’s happening. To process that she and Greta are about to have a bedroom to themselves, even if it’s only for the ten minutes or so it’ll take Jess to walk to the nearest store and back. Even if the house is still full of people who rarely knock before inviting themselves in. Even if this is far from the level of privacy she wishes she could have with Greta.
“No. No, I’m fine. Thanks,” she says.
Jess buttons up her shirt, pulls a cap onto her head, and salutes the room at large. “Alright, kids. See you later then.” And then she’s gone, leaving Carson and Greta alone.
Finally.
Carson can’t stop the smile that spreads across her lips the moment the door clicks closed. She can’t stop the butterflies in her stomach taking flight when Greta smiles back and pats the mattress beside herself.
“We can go over those notes here if you want,” Greta says.
Carson nods and moves slowly to Greta’s bed. “Sure. I just want to make sure we’re ready for the game.”
“Oh, of course.”
“I know how dedicated you are to winning.” Carson settles down beside Greta, their knees brushing together.
Greta cups her hand over Carson’s cheek, rubs her thumb over Carson’s cheekbone. Carson’s heart skips several beats.
“I hope the rest of the team doesn’t get jealous,” Greta says. “I’ve been getting so much one on one time with the coach.”
“Well, I’ve got a lot of thoughts about your performance on the field.“
Greta raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”
Carson nods, settling her hand on Greta’s knee. “Yeah, you know… How your arms look when you swing the bat. Or throw the ball.”
“How my ass looks when I run the bases?” Greta adds with a smirk.
Carson grins and feels a blush rise into her cheeks, but she doesn’t deny it. “Yeah, it’s all really important stuff.”
“Mhm.” Greta smiles, watching Carson as the blush fades from her cheeks. After a moment, she leans in, so closely that Carson’s breath hitches in her throat, and she whispers, “Are you gonna kiss me or not, Shaw?”
Carson doesn’t need to be asked twice.
She closes the distance between them, smiles pressed together at first and then open mouths, and she thinks that she will never, ever get tired of the way kissing Greta feels. There’s an urgency, a passion that she’s never felt for anyone. Their bodies click into place as Carson moves onto Greta’s lap, and Greta holds her close but not close enough. It’s never close enough.
There’s never enough skin-to-skin contact between them. Never enough freedom to fully explore one another the way Carson yearns to. Not when there’s the ever present risk of Beverly or a teammate walking in on them. Not when they each have to keep one ear trained for the sound of footsteps, the sound of voices growing closer, the sound of a myriad of possible dangers approaching.
Carson’s fingers hover over the top button on Greta’s sleep shirt. She knows they can’t do anything more—not here, not now—but she runs her thumb over the clasp anyway, wishing she could undo it. Wishing she could see parts of Greta she’s only been able to dream about. Wishing she could feel how wonderful it must be to lie down beside her, no fabric in the way between them. Maybe it would finally allow them to get close enough. Maybe it would finally be enough contact to make Carson full.
Greta rests her hand over Carson’s, stilling her, and breaks the kiss.
“I know,” Carson whispers, leaning her forehead against Greta’s. “I know we can’t.”
Greta lifts Carson’s chin with her other hand, smoothing the hair away from Carson’s face. She smiles gently and Carson melts, putty in Greta’s lap.
“We’ll have time,” Greta says.
Carson nods and intertwines their fingers, pulling their hands into her own lap. “Yeah. We’ve still got time.”
They sit in silence for a moment, listening to each other’s breathing, taking turns running their fingers along each other’s palms. It’s easy to get lost in the pull of Greta. For the world to fade away into the periphery and all that’s left is the warmth of Greta’s body. Greta’s hands, soft and steady. Greta’s deep, brown eyes looking into Carson’s like she’s lost in this moment too. All that’s left is a calmness, a stillness, a radiant joy that Carson didn’t know she’d been missing.
Greta’s mouth tips up into an apologetic smile and, quietly, she says, “You’re putting my legs to sleep.”
The bubble pops, the world rushes back in, and Carson moves quickly to get off Greta’s lap. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I can—“
But Greta keeps her hold on Carson’s hands and shakes her head, pulling Carson down with her as she leans back in the bed. “Come here.”
“Isn’t this against a rule?” Carson asks as she follows Greta’s movement, tucking herself into Greta’s side. It’s easy and comfortable and right, and she wants to stay curled up here, just like this, forever.
Greta hums, wrapping her arms around Carson, holding her close. She runs her fingers through Carson’s hair a few times, brushing it back, and the gentleness of her touch sends goosebumps racing across Carson’s skin.
Finally, after a long silence, Greta says, “I’m happy.”
Carson tilts her head up and finds Greta smiling down at her, warm and soft. Her makeup is gone—no red lipstick or colored eye shadow or perfectly even foundation; Greta looks back at her with a hesitation, a hope that Carson has never seen in her before, and it makes her stomach do flips.
Carson cups Greta’s face in her hand and pulls her down into a kiss, tries to memorize every single detail about this moment. The curve of Greta’s mouth. The heat of her body. The security of her touch. She wants to commit all of it to memory, lock it away somewhere she can revisit it again and again and again, even once all of this is over.
The baseball season is barreling on, and Carson knows each sunset carries her further toward the inevitable end of this time with Greta. She’s known it couldn’t last, known it was never possible for them to really be together, known that one day, she’d have to leave this world behind and return to reality. But she wishes, more than she’s ever wished for anything, that she and Greta could stay wrapped up in each other for one night. Even if she can’t have many nights, she thinks they deserve just this one.
She pulls back from Greta, hand still cupped over her cheek, and this feeling? Lying next to the most electrifying person she’s ever met? It’s more intoxicating, more euphoric than winning every game put together.
“I’m really happy too,” Carson whispers.
The world is still, and Greta smiles at Carson like she’s the only person in it, and she presses a lingering kiss to the top of Carson’s head.
“Good,” Greta whispers back.
And maybe, just for a few more minutes, just until they hear Jess’ shoes stomping up the stairs, they can keep living in their own little world. Maybe, just for a moment, they are allowed to let nothing matter but each other—but themselves.
Carson rests her head on Greta’s chest, as close to her heart as she can get it, and she listens to the rhythm of Greta’s heartbeat, strong and steady. As the minutes pass, Greta’s body relaxes beneath her. Their lungs pull air in and push it back out in tandem, ebbing and flowing like a tide, and Carson allows her eyes to slip closed, just for a minute. Just for a second. To stay tangled up in Greta, just like this, for as long as she possibly can.