The Game Changer - ch. 2 (Patreon)

You asked, and I am feeling super into this story right now... so I answered!

Typically, there really will only be one update/month, but I figured that we've all waited a long time for a glimpse into Rose's mind, so...

Keep in mind - TGC is written and structured like a typical novel, so even though there is a lot we want to get into with Rose (her thoughts on the past, and what she's been up to since then!), it's going to take a little while to build into that :)

Anyway. Enjoy!

-------------The Game Changer ------------

Chapter Two

Everything inside of Rose felt like it was on high alert. Like her entire body was prickling with awareness in a way she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Which, in all honesty, was kind of irritating, as she really didn’t have the time for any distractions right now.

The school year was primed to start next week, and this year held the promise to be quite the uphill battle, with all of the plans she had in store.

Plans that she’d had pulled up on her computer screen for hours, but had gotten distracted from, oh, around two this afternoon.

Nathan – 3:34p.m.Thoughts/feelings/concerns/comments on barbecuing for dinner tonight

Pausing the drumming of her fingertips against her desk, she rolled her eyes even as she smirked and answered –  

Rose – 3:35p.m.My most prominent thought on the matter is the memory of you nearly starting a fire in the yard with the smoker last summer. But other than that minute issue, I feel fine about it

Immediately, his name flashed over her screen as he called her.

And because she could do with this distraction a lot easier than she could manage the other one, she answered.

“It was one time,” he defended, predictably. “And you have to admit – the food came out tasting pretty good, regardless.”

“What I’ll admit is that I appreciated the quick response from Mat,” she shot back, referencing the man that had lived next door to them, who’d happened to also be a firefighter and took notice of the alarming smoke in their yard.

“A good guy, Mat is,” Nathan mused. “But other than that, you’re good with dinner plans? I wanted to check before I start preparing anything.”

She hummed in quiet acquiescence, sliding her gaze over to the large window on the other side of her office. All she could see out of it from where she sat was a view of the bright, sunny sky.

But she knew what was going on out there, and it was buzzing through the back of her mind.

“You sound distracted. How’d the meeting with the minions from hell go earlier today? Is that still your preferred terminology?”

Breathing out a laugh, she reached up and roughly rubbed her fingers over her temples. “It was over pretty quickly,” she informed him, “Which was ideal. But we still need to fill the final faculty role, and unless I can get the right person to agree, I’m fairly certain they’re going to offer it to Timmons again for reappointment.”

And if that happened, Rose was also fairly certain that all of her goals and plans for Elliston would be dead in the water.

Nathan’s long, pained groan was a verbal reflection of how she silently felt inside – very typical of the two of them, she thought. “Mr. Timmons?! That piece of crap is, what, a million years old?”

She chuckled again, louder, as she leaned back in her chair. “He’s sixty-five.”

She would know; he’d been around her father’s age, and always been her father’s choice of faculty recommendation for the Board.

“Spiritually, he’s at least one-hundred-and-ten,” he argued.

Dropping her head back, she sighed. “I’m not disagreeing. But even if he was physically one-hundred-and-ten, if he wasn’t retired, he could still be a pick to sit on the Board.”

“Well, come on, then,” Nathan’s can-do spirit rang through the phone, his tone light and encouraging. “You have until the first day of school to make a recommendation. Let’s get a brainstorm going. Who’s it going to be?”

“If I knew that, Nathan, we wouldn’t need to have a brainstorm, now would we?” She asked, dryly.

Unperturbed by her tone – as always, which was really the only way they’d made it through all of this time together – he hummed, thoughtfully. “Right, right.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she muttered, “I’ve sent out multiple emails to the teachers that I’m confident in, throughout the summer. Only Mrs. Murphy responded with any actual interest, but she’s going to be on maternity leave this year, which makes her ineligible until the next appointment cycle.”

“Oh!” She could hear how Nathan snapped his fingers. “What about the new soccer coach? Because she’s also the athletic director?” His golden-retriever excitement was palpable. “Well – a woman in sports… feels like that could be a solid choice? The athletic director counts as a full-time faculty member, right?”

Again, her gaze zipped right back to the window, her stomach clenching tightly at the same time her jaw did. “Hmm,” she sighed, worrying at her bottom lip as she debated telling Nathan.

She hadn’t discussed it with him in the last week – since she’d had that meeting with Abbie – because of the very hard boundary she’d drawn in her mind, long ago. Nathan was on one side of it, and Abbie was on the other. It had been that way since her junior year of high school, and in the past, it had been an importance to the highest order that those lines not cross.

She’d frequently counted her lucky stars back in high school that Abbie and Nathan never became close of their own accord. They were two of the nicest, friendliest people in their entire grade, they both played sports, and their social circles overlapped in several areas. Enough that high-school-Rose experienced anticipatory anxiety about the possibility of a friendship forming.

But not telling Nathan about it now felt… odd. There was no reason to hide it, technically. And in all likelihood, he would eventually find out, anyway. After all, Abbie worked here. She was hired. She’d started. It was a done deal. And so, when he did eventually find out, he’d find it incredibly strange that she didn’t tell him.

In Nathan’s mind, especially as of late, there was very little she hadn’t shared with him. And if they were excluding her sexuality and only taking into account the time they’d been married, he would be right.

“About that,” she grit out, before clearing her throat. “The new coach is – well, it’s actually Abbie. Funny thing.”

Even hearing Abbie’s name fall from her lips like that – so… casual – felt so incredibly strange. Even if she’d had a week to perseverate on Abbie’s surprising reappearance in her life, it still felt surreal.

Nathan was quiet for a few seconds, and she could feel him trying to connect the dots even before he asked, “Abbie…? Wait, Abbie Dalton? Like, from high school? Like, professional player Abbie Dalton?”

With every word he spoke, his enthusiasm grew.

“Mhmm.” She kept her tone as light as she could, even as her thoughts snagged hard on the name. No, not Dalton. Parker.

“No shit!” Nathan exclaimed. “How’s she doing? Wait – what is she doing there? She just played in the freaking Olympics.” The bafflement in his voice reflected precisely what Rose had felt during her meeting with Abbie.

In fact, that confusion hadn’t quite dissipated since. There was still an element that didn’t make any sense to her, and Rose really did not appreciate things that didn’t make sense to her.

Nathan’s confusion did, however, fill her with vindication. Even if Abbie had seemed so combative and evasive about answering the question, it was fucking weird.

“I have no idea why she’s here,” she answered, honestly.

Maybe her wife lives here, a nasty voice in the back of her mind taunted – sounding very familiar to the inner-voice that had frequently made itself known in her adolescence, actually.

Maybe her wife wanted to settle in, here. It would be incredibly unsupportive, of course, making your spouse retire in a career they were thriving in, but – it wasn’t really any of her business. Technically.

She tightly set her jaw at the thought.

“Either way, it’s fucking awesome.”

Oh yeah. So AWESOME, that snarky inner-voice commented again. Just when Rose’s life was potentially starting to settle, enter Abbie Dalton – Parker.

“Not just for the team, but you wanted to pick someone that you could count on to vote more liberally during board meetings! Abbie’s a lesbian!” He was so thrilled, she could hear it in his voice. “Looks like we’ve found the person. Bare minimum you have to ask her.”

She bit intently her cheek, hard enough that it stung.

Unperturbed by her lack of response – again, as usual – Nathan continued, “I can’t believe you didn’t already ask her? It seems like an obvious choice.”

Again, she continued to bite her cheek, until she was sure she was about to draw blood.

Abbie had been taking up residence in her mind all afternoon, due to the very same idea that Nathan had. Those thoughts had only grown more and more insistent an hour ago, when Abbie’s soccer practice had commenced. When Rose knew she was just beyond the brick walls.

Granted, fine, Abbie had circulated through her mind every day since their meeting, to varying degrees of intensity.

But it had been abundantly clear – Abbie had made it abundantly clear – during the end of their meeting that she had no desire to see, talk to, or spend time with Rose, despite their newfound proximity.

And still, it didn’t change the fact that every fiber of Rose was so… aware. Aware that Abbie Dalton – Parker – was here.

She was at Elliston, at the same time Rose was. She was – right this very second – on the same campus.

Nothing about this gave Rose any sense of equilibrium.

If Rose stood up and walked to her window that overlooked the field outside, she’d be able to see Abbie and her team practicing outside.

She’d resolutely refused to do so today, but she’d been buzzing with the knowledge that she could. Well, she’d refused to do so today; she’d watched the soccer practices Abbie had immediately pulled together the literal day her employment had officially started, at least for a few minutes every day in the last week.

“Rose? Rosie Posey? You still there?”

That brought her right back to the moment, and she scowled, deeply. “You know how much I hate that,” she muttered.

“I also knew that it would drag you out of any possible introspection,” he countered, victoriously. “So? What about Abbie?”

She couldn’t exactly tell him about how displeased Abbie had been to see her, could she? Not without opening a can of worms she was not going to crack.

And the reality was – he wasn’t wrong. It was why she’d had the same thought, herself.

“Yeah. I should see if she’s interested.” She couldn’t help herself from standing up and striding over to the window, looking down.

The perch had recently become very familiar to her, and she settled against the wall, that buzzing awareness inside of her only growing stronger. From this distance, she couldn’t see definitive facial features or anything like that.

But she could obviously tell which one was Abbie. Even if the team hadn’t been wearing their practice uniforms, she’d be able to zero in on Abbie, like some kind of superpower she’d always had. A superpower she’d felt fucking cursed by throughout all of the time she’d known Abbie, back in the day.

“She’s here, now,” she mused, quietly. Unintentionally aloud.

“Then what the hell are we still talking for? I can’t wait for the full report over dinner.” Nathan hung up the phone, fairly abruptly.

He’d always done that, since they were kids. It was as though he’d never taken the etiquette classes they’d both been forced to attend as kids.

Granted, Rose breathed out a mirthless laugh, a lot of her own behaviors didn’t reflect the lessons from Miss Doucette, either. But hers were a lot more intentional, whereas Nathan was oblivious to whenever he was being uncouth.

Tapping her phone against her palm, she found that the decision had already been made, somewhere inside of her.

Maybe that had, subconsciously, been what she was waiting for – someone else to grant her the permission to go and seek Abbie out. Nathan, unaware of the extent of what he’d done un urging her to go talk to Abbie, had just granted it.

Turning on her heel, she left her office, heading down to the soccer field.

She’d held herself back from doing so every other day that she’d known Abbie was here.

It had been an internal battle – feeling that buzzing awareness of knowing that Abbie was here, and wanting to confirm that all over again with her own eyes, up-close. Versus… everything else.

First and foremost, Abbie being so obviously unhappy to see her. She’d been so direct and intent in telling Rose that they would stay out of one another’s way and, frankly, Rose had still been reeling from the fact that she was seeing and talking to Abbie so unexpectedly in the first place, that she hadn’t been able to fully process it all. But she’d very deliberately not verbally agreed to Abbie’s request/demand on that end.

Beyond that, though, was the fact that Rose felt unsure of how they should interact, now, anyway. She hadn’t seen Abbie in a long time. In many ways, Rose wasn’t the same person she’d once been, and she had no idea if Abbie was, either.

Besides, she was busy, and she did have a lot of work to do.

After all, her father had died five months ago, and Rose had been somewhat thrown into this role. At the end of the last school year, she’d felt like she was keeping her head above water, but that this job wasn’t fully hers.

This year, she was determined for things to be different. This year, she was the one and only Headmaster Elliston, and she had plans to make that known.

And with those plans came a lot of hard work, featuring a fair amount of behind the scenes manipulation.

Yet, she couldn’t deny the anticipation that streaked through her as she walked out of the building and toward the field.

As she approached, she slowed her pace to take it all in.

And by it all, her gaze immediately fell to Abbie. Whose back was to her, which Rose appreciated.

After all, in their first meeting, she’d felt ill-prepared. Completely flummoxed. And Rose categorically did not appreciate feeling that way.

This time, though, it was on her terms. Everything felt better when she got to decide the circumstances.

She slowed to a stop several feet away from Abbie, not wanting her to be aware of Rose’s presence just yet. Mostly because she needed a minute to take it all in.

Yes, she’d been shocked when she’d seen Abbie in her office last week. But seeing her here, on the soccer field they’d spent so much of their time on in their youth… that was really throwing Rose for a loop.

Abbie’s hair fell just below her shoulders, the pale blonde of it absolutely radiant in the sunlight. From here, especially as Abbie had it pulled up into a ponytail, it blended as one shade, but Rose knew… she knew that up-close, there were so many soft shades. Ranging from ash to honey, depending on the strand and the lighting.

She had on a pair of black athletic shorts that cut off just a few inches down on her thighs. And they shouldn’t have highlighted just how toned Abbie’s ass was, but they really, really did.

She didn’t know what feeling was stronger at that fact – appreciation or frustration.

Abbie wasn’t wearing anything particularly special on her feet, either, just a pair of sneakers that looked well worn-in. Yet her legs looked absolutely, sinfully amazing. All smooth, tanned skin and definition, and…

Which, of course, they did. Abbie was mere weeks out from being a retired professional athlete. Of course she was perfectly fit. Obviously. Nothing surprising of note.

And yet, Rose couldn’t help herself from slowly running her eyes back up, over Abbie’s back, the way her shirt snugly fit over her shoulders. How her arms were bare and tan and lithely muscled.

Even in college, Abbie had effortlessly hauled Rose up against her, lifting her off the ground, as they’d kissed. She imagined that strength was still present, and…

Rose rolled her lips, feeling her body heat from the inside out, forcing herself to not go down that avenue. She’d done well keeping that night from her mind for as much as possible, and just because Abbie had resurfaced didn’t mean she should revisit it.

Bare minimum, certainly not right now, while dozens of students were also only feet away.

Abbie wasn’t even wearing anything particularly attractive – one of the dark red shirts she’d already received as an official coach for one of Elliston’s teams. In her hands she held a clipboard, making notes every so often as she watched the team run drills. But historically, when it came to Abbie, whatever she was wearing didn’t really detract from Rose’s attraction to her, and apparently that didn’t change with time.

Especially right now. While she stood here on this field with Abbie, and so many memories swam through her mind, making her feel dizzy with them. The days when they’d been the players out on the field felt both like forever ago and only yesterday, somehow.

Abbie blew her whistle, jarring Rose back into the moment, as she gestured for everyone to gather back around her.

“Grab some water, most importantly,” she called out, using her clipboard to shield her eyes from the sun that blazed down on them, the August heat of the day feeling humid and cloying. “Then we’ll go over some notes before you head out.”

As soon as the girls started making their way over, Rose was spotted.

One of the girls – a junior… Rachel Something? Rose was still doing her best to get more acquainted with the students – paused, tilting her head to the side. “Headmaster Elliston?”

Rose nodded in acknowledgment as her presence was identified, the comment making most of the other girls turn and look at her, curiously, too. “Hello, girls. Good practice.”

She internally braced herself as Abbie spun around to face her.

Those sky blue eyes widened in surprise as they locked onto Rose’s, immediately followed by a deep frown. “What are you doing here?”

There was a tightness to Abbie’s voice, a disapproval, that rubbed at Rose uncomfortably. Reminding her that Abbie hadn’t just been surprised by their reunion, but that she’d been clearly unhappy about it. Far more than Rose possibly could be.

She arched her a look right back. “Checking out my new Olympic-winning coach in action.” She felt her cheeks heat from the way the comment sounded but straightened her spine and held firm with it.

Some of the girls tittered with giggles, an echo working through them in the din of background conversation at the reminder of Abbie’s very recent illustrious career.

Abbie, however, pursed her lips tightly, her eyes narrowing at Rose, and she didn’t respond to her.

Instead, she turned on her heel and fixed on a smile as she looked at the team, who were all staring at Abbie, eyes wide and waiting for her to speak.

“You’ve all done really well in the last few days of practice. More than that, though, you’ve all been very, very responsive in taking feedback. I told you all during our first day together that it’s not all about skill level; it’s about being willing to listen, and being willing to try. With that being said,” Abbie paused, taping her pen against her clipboard. “I’m going to be letting you all know where you stand in terms of varsity, JV, and position on your team, soon. And I’m going to remind you now, before that happens, about what I said before – I’m not picking individuals to slot into positions; I’m building a team.”

One of the girls raised her hand, a sour look on her face. Izzie Minton, Rose knew, because her father was on the Board. She also knew because Izzie had been a starting striker on the varsity team last year. “Coach, I just really think it’s a little unfair that our past performance on the team doesn’t mean anything.”

Rose lifted an eyebrow at the tone in her voice, turning to look at Abbie. Frankly, she wondered how she’d handle it.

Yes, Abbie knew this sport inside and out, but managing teenage girls was a different matter entirely.

Abbie leveled a look back at Izzie, surprisingly firm. Interesting. “As I said before, Izzie, I wasn’t here to see past performances, and I think it’s incredibly unfair to judge anyone based on something I haven’t seen with my own eyes. That’s why we’ve done nearly a week of drills and scrimmages, first. And if something needs to be switched up during the season, then we’ll switch it up as we go.”

Her tone was kind – also unsurprising – but didn’t left room for an argument.

Rose nodded in appreciation.

A blonde with hazel eyes, who was sitting on the ground – Anya Beckett, Rose knew, because her very outspoken model – literally – mother was the PTA president – rolled her eyes up at Izzie. “Why do you want it based on past performance, anyway? We sucked last year, both varsity and JV.”

A resounding agreement echoed through most of the other girls, and Rose had to bite back a grin at the call-out.

“Enough,” Abbie cut in, even though Rose would bet her life she was also holding back a smile. “There’s no room for the past in this conversation, regardless of how well the teams did last year. These are new teams. New coach, some new faces here. There are no expectations of anyone performing better or worse than last year – we’re starting from scratch, together.”

She arched both of her eyebrows as she looked around at the team, expectantly.

“Yes, Coach,” they chorused back, with varying levels of enthusiasm. Well, most seemed very excited, barring Izzie and only a couple others.

“Great.” Abbie beamed at them, now, all of her Serious Coach demeanor slipping away. “I’m super excited about this, and I think we’re going to kill it this season. I’ll see you all tomorrow, unless anyone wants to chat about anything – then, I’ll be in my office for a little while.”

With the dismissal, the girls started packing up their things, splitting off into small groups and conversations.

After a few moments, Abbie turned around and though she aimed a narrow-eyed look in Rose’s direction as she walked toward her. However, she didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.

In fact, she blew right by Rose, as if Rose would possibly be at this practice for any reason other than to talk to Abbie.

Surprised, a little amused, and a little exasperated, she turned and followed Abbie. Perhaps it would be better for them to talk in Abbie’s office, anyway; fewer witnesses in the form of teenage girls was always better, especially if any of their past interactions were brought up.

Which Rose, admittedly, hoped they wouldn’t be.

She hadn’t even come close to figuring out what her footing with Abbie Dalton – Parker – was now, as adults. With where she was in her life. Where Abbie was in hers, wherever that may be.

Even though Rose, against her better judgment, very much wanted to know where that was.

As she followed Abbie inside and toward her office off of the adjoining locker room, she couldn’t help but feel even more amused at the way Abbie was so clearly – pointedly – ignoring her.

Because the thing was, Abbie was not someone that did subtle annoyance. It was all very obvious. It always had been.

Finally, as Abbie came to a stop in front of her office door, she spun around and glared at Rose. “Okay, so?”

Rose came to a stop as well, confusion sweeping through her. “So…?”

Those clear blue eyes absolutely glittered at her as they narrowed even more. “Well, don’t you have some sort of comment about the way I was handling the team or something? I could feel you taking in every moment.”

Yes, Rose had been taking in the moment, but in a very different way than Abbie had apparently believed. She held her hands up, defensively. “I have no feedback, if that’s what you’re asking. I think you handled Izzie’s comment well.”

It was very clear that Rose’s positive response took Abbie by surprise. In fact, she very much appreciated the way Abbie’s full lips opened on a breath, but didn’t have anything yet to say. The way her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t have anything to immediately respond with.

God, she had always loved how very transparent Abbie was in so many ways.

She loved that Abbie remained that way, even amidst the truly larger-than-life experiences she’d had over the last eight years.

Rose held eye contact with her, lifting an eyebrow in challenge as she knew she’d surprised her.

But Abbie rebounded quickly, setting her jaw as she demanded, “Why were you at my practice, then? Because I thought we’d agreed that we wouldn’t have to cross paths. Are you coming here to antagonize me over something else? Because we aren’t kids, anymore, and I’m not going to deal with that kind of thing, now.”

Taken entirely aback, all semblance of her satisfaction dissipated as she stared at Abbie, her own eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

Rose had said exactly, what, two sentences to Abbie this entire afternoon – what in the world was with that attitude?

“Are you going to play dumb right now? Really? Like you didn’t revel in constantly antagonizing me, in the past?” Abbie cut her a sharp look, a harder edge to those blue eyes than Rose had ever seen.

Even back when she’d... fine, antagonized Abbie. Which had been over a decade ago!

But – how could she possibly begin to tell Abbie that she’d only antagonized her, because Rose had felt antagonized by Abbie – granted, unintentionally – every single second of every single day, back then?

And would Abbie even be open to hearing it, even if Rose could figure out how to tell her the truth?

Because she sure as hell didn’t seem to be, as she unlocked her office and walked in, keeping her back turned to Rose.

Clearing her throat, Rose braced herself again as she gamely followed Abbie into her office. The reality was, she had bigger fish to fry today than trying to figure out how to tackle the past, and she was on a deadline.

“The past is the past, and we’re both adults now. I’d like to think that we can act civil toward one another after not having seen each other for almost a decade.”

After all, Rose no longer felt personally victimized by merely standing in the same room as Abbie, and that felt like such a big weight off of her chest. It felt so – so freeing. So wildly, insanely liberating to look at Abbie Dalton – Parker – and not feel swamped and overwhelmed and anxious and frustrated by the physiological reaction Abbie caused in her body.

They were both adults, and with that adulthood, Rose had finally been able to learn how to breathe. Rose, the woman, was very different, emotionally, than the girl Abbie had known. And she liked to think that Abbie – at least, the Abbie she’d known – wouldn’t absolutely detest the her she was, now.

Abbie, apparently, didn’t share the same sentiment, as she pursed her lips and hummed. “Sure, Rose. I mean, I’ve always been civil to you,” she reminded, darkly, “So, sure.”

She dropped her gaze, reaching out and placing the clipboard onto her desk, before she started organizing everything else that she’d clearly brought in over the last few days. Pointedly ignoring Rose’s very presence.

And Rose couldn’t help herself from darting her eyes down to Abbie’s hand, looking for any sign of a ring. Parker.

But there wasn’t one. Which just didn’t make any damn sense.

The blatant reminder that Abbie wouldn’t tell her anything – about her relationship, about why she’d suddenly retired – grated on her.

Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and pushed past that. Pushed beyond everything other than why she was here, right now. It was the wisest thing to focus on, for multiple reasons.

“I’m not here to antagonize you, Abbie,” she murmured, softly, a promise in her tone. A promise she truly meant, that entangled with a bit of remorse.

Admittedly, she’d never realized how much the attitude she’d exhibited toward Abbie apparently had bothered her during high school. Abbie had never been some wilting wallflower; she’d responded right back to Rose with fire every time. So, yes, this heated response from Abbie now was a little unexpected. But that wasn’t the point, right now.

“I understand why you might feel otherwise,” she acknowledged, hedging over the past. “But I swear to you, that’s the last thing on my agenda.”

She stared at Abbie intently, hoping that she’d be able to look at Rose and see that she was being honest.

Abbie’s movements stilled. She looked up and held Rose’s eyes with her own, searching and direct and dubious.

Rose felt her heart pound a little harder in her chest, but she squared her shoulders and didn’t look away. Abbie could study her all she liked, because if she was looking for a sign that Rose was being disingenuous, she wouldn’t find it.

After several long, heart-pounding moments – for Rose, at least – Abbie cautiously agreed, “All right. So, what is it, then?”

Even as she invited Rose’s response, those blue eyes – eyes Rose still felt startingly familiar with, even though they weren’t familiar, anymore – were so… cold.

In a way that Rose hadn’t ever known Abbie to be capable of. Even back when Rose would antagonize her, Abbie had never looked at her like that. It sat heavily, uncomfortably, bafflingly, inside of her.

“I have a proposition for you,” she stated, and as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt a heated thrum work through her body.

Vividly, she flashed back to the last time she’d seen Abbie, before this. To the last proposition she’d approached her with.

That night was still vividly clear in her mind, even if it was clouded with a history of desperation and yearning and overwhelming hopelessness.

Forcing herself to inhale deeply and remain grounded right here and now, she could see that she wasn’t the only one that had gone back to that memory.

“It’s about the Board of Trustees,” she explained, very much needing them not to get caught on that past, especially not right here. Not while the adjoining locker room was starting to fill with the girls coming in from practice.

Abbie’s cheeks had flushed and her lips had pursed tightly, her gaze shuttering. But as soon as Rose mentioned the Board, confusion flickered over her expression. “Um… okay. What about it?” She cautiously asked, tilting her head in question.

She’d always done that, Rose absently thought. That little head tilt when she was confused about something.

Shaking her head softly, she cleared her throat and explained, “The board, the one you’d done your interviews with? There are seventeen seated members on the board at any given time. The headmaster is guaranteed one,” she gestured at herself. “And there are two faculty positions to be appointed, as well. Right now, Ms. Belanger has one of the faculty spots – the one that gets put to a vote when students get to nominate their most impactful teachers. Mr. Timmons has had the other seat, consistently being reappointed for the last eight years. But his reappointment was over at the end of the last school year, and has remained unfilled as of now.”

Abbie’s confusion was still blatant, even as she grimaced at the mention of Mr. Timmons. “How did he get reappointed? There’s no way he won any sort of student support.”

Rose breathed out a laugh at Abbie’s accurate recollection, then grimacing because… yeah, she was so correct. “The second faculty position is appointed by the headmaster. Rather, invited by the headmaster, I should say. If the headmaster’s appointment doesn’t work out, then the board will have the final say.”

“Why am I not shocked that your father and Mr. Timmons were best-buds?” Abbie asked, dryly.

Rose’s grimace only deepened. “Hmm,” she hummed in confirmation and agreement.

Abbie slid her gaze over Rose’s face, closely, her eyes narrowing even more in thought. “I’m still not following you, though. What does this have to do with me?”

Dear god, why did Abbie refuse to connect any dots when it came to Rose? Abbie was far from stupid, and she’d never had any problems using critical thinking and analysis when it came to anyone else that Rose had ever seen.

But historically, she’d always made Rose explain herself to death, even when she felt she was being very obvious. Like in this moment, she believed the intimation she’d given was clear.

Rolling her eyes, she laid it out, “I’m obviously asking if you’ll agree to join the Board of Trustees, as my appointment.”

“See, why do you have to say it like that?” Abbie asked, clearly feeling just as put-upon as Rose did in this moment. “I was just asking for clarification.”

“Why do you always need me to clarify everything I say to you down to the punctuation mark?” She shot back, exasperatedly.

And, god, she couldn’t believe it, honestly. Somehow, some way, Abbie Dalton – Parker – still managed to get to her in ways no one else had in years. Just like she had at the first meeting, until Rose had re-regulated herself with the reminder that she – and life circumstances – were so very different, now, than when she’d known Abbie before.

Abbie held her hands up, as if proclaiming innocence. “Because I’ve never known where you’re coming from or what’s on your mind. If you recall the whole history of antagonization topic from only minutes ago.”

And as she stared at Abbie, feeling this same – strangely exhilarating – rush, she found herself… smiling. At Abbie. At the way things between them, insanely, could still feel so similar to the past, even while they’d both gone their own ways and experienced a whole lot of life in the last eight years.

There was something about that, that Rose found utterly enjoyable.

Her smile seemed to lessen Abbie’s ire, to replace it with suspicious confusion.

Rose heard her phone chirp, reminding her about her four o’clock meeting. With it, she sobered slightly, getting back to the matter at hand.

Clearing her throat, Rose still felt the hint of the grin on her lips. “Let me lay the cards very clearly down on the table, then – I have fewer than seven days to find a faculty member to commit to being on the Board this year. I’m asking if you are willing to do it.”

Abbie’s eyebrows furrowed deeply together, absurdly adorable and clearly perplexed. “Why, though? I’m not even a teacher. I’ve barely started here.” She gestured around at her small office that was still in disarray. “I have so much on my plate, in terms of getting not only coaching, but figuring out whatever the hell has been going on with the athletic program in the last few years. Why are you asking me, if it’s not meant to be some sort of pointed way to get to me?”

“Because,” Rose took a deep breath, before she plainly stated, “You’re a lesbian, and super liberal.”

Even though there was no need for her to feel another buzz from that statement on Abbie’s sexuality – something Rose had known almost since the day she’d known Abbie – she still felt something, right through her veins.

Abbie shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “I’m sorry. What?”

Before Rose could explain herself further, there was a light knock on Abbie’s open office door behind her. She stilled, turning around as Abbie looked over her shoulder.

Anya stood there, her eyebrows arched in question as she looked between them. “Sorry to interrupt, Coach Dalton. And Headmaster Elliston,” she added on, nodding at Rose, before swinging her gaze back to Abbie. “I just – you said we could come and talk to you if we had any questions?”

Abbie nodded, giving Anya a small smile. “Yeah, absolutely. Just give me a minute?”

Anya nodded, before she moved to sit in one of the chairs on the other side of the exterior wall of Abbie’s office.

Rose slowly turned back to face Abbie, holding her gaze and hoping – for the first time in the history of their interactions – that Abbie could truly see her, and that she meant what she was saying. “I need an answer by the end of this week. But I really hope you’ll take the me factor out of the equation and think about it.”

Abbie gave her that stare, the one like she was trying to map out all of Rose’s thoughts. For the first time in her life, it didn’t terrify her, and she merely stood there, letting Abbie take her fill.

“I’ll think about it,” she softly, contemplatively agreed. “I can’t make any promises.”

“I wouldn’t ask for them.” For a beat, Rose remained there, in Abbie’s office, holding that intense eye contact. Feeling her blood thrum through her veins. And even though their conversation had taken a few detours, she felt satisfied with it. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I guess so,” Abbie muttered in response as Rose dragged her eyes over Abbie one more time and turned to leave.

She really wasn’t sure if she should be more amazed or alarmed by how easy it was to slip back into a rapport with Abbie Dalton – Parker.

Fine. That was going to take some more getting used to.

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