That day after study period, the team gathered down the senior wing past the Stud.Co. office door. Rosalie hadn't seen much of Whitney Vasquez since she effectively bitched Whitney out on Homecoming weekend. Stud.Co. meetings were few and far between for Rosalie during the soccer season, anyway.

    Arthur Hendricks was in the office, though, so Rosalie leant in to wave to him. Art looked away from the photos on screen long enough to say, "Hey Rosalie! Mrs. Maguire already picked up the keys."

    "Thanks, Art!" she said, ducking out of the room and into the oncoming traffic of soccer girls.

    She fell in line with Jade Dalby and held the conference room door open for her. "How's your head?" she asked.

    Jade put a hand to her braid and sighed. "It's okay. Better than the last two weeks, definitely."

    "You'll be able to play again by winter break, right?" Rosalie asked.

    Jade nodded. The minor concussion would be healed in the next few weeks, but those few weeks were crucial. Jade wouldn't be able to participate in Regionals unless something happened to Joanna and they needed to fall back on Jade. It would be beyond difficult, and Rosalie knew that their resolve to win would disintegrate if that happened. Jade would only be back in practice for a week and a half before Regionals. It wasn't enough time for her to warm up for Regional Semifinals, let alone Championships.

    The conference room was where Stud.Co. held their weekly meetings. Rosalie attended enough to know the layout. As a freshmen, it reminded her of King Arthur tales and the Knights of the Round Table. The tall windows facing the boulevard outside of Bradshaw's parking lot were criss-crossed with square frames that cast a patchwork of shadows over the circular table. The center was cut out, and at Stud.Co. meetings, Whitney would take her position there. Now it was empty.

    Coach Maguire was pulling down the projector screen when Jade and Rosalie arrived. They hesitated on the outskirts of the table, watching as the screen flickered on. Once again, Kayla Maguire was in attendance, perched on the edge of the nearby windowsill. A cold shiver went up Rosalie's spine at the sight of the little she-devil, who seemed disinterested in the state of affairs. Coach turned around and searched the crowd before landing on Rosalie. She nodded for Rosalie to bring up her presentation.

    Rosalie left Jade to bring up her screen. She set her backpack off to the side along with her coat before rolling up her sleeves with a sigh. Meanwhile, Coach took a seat next to Kayla and gestured for Rosalie to begin.

    "Okay. Well, for starters, I had the pleasure of researching Lake Erie Prep. It's a private school in northwest Pennsylvania," she said, and on screen, their logo came up. It was a profile of a horse in black and blue colors above their mascot title: Trojans. "In their first non-conference game, their leading scorer tore her ACL. Since she's out of the running, they have Camry Hovis, centerfielder. Camry's known for making assists, usually to their leading striker, but they switched positions when she tore her ACL. Camry's usual position is at the rightwing.

    "They barely made it out of State alive. They sustained two other minor injuries, but for the most part, their leading lineup is scrambled for Regionals. They'll be coming in with a new rightwing forward and defender."

    They went down the line from there, moving on to Ray, who studied the Groton Memorial Tigers in Vermont. From there, they covered the region, recording names, numbers, positions, and schools on the board.

    Rosalie sat with Joanna on one of the carpeted steps on the side of the room, just below the windowpane. She could feel the cold draft of the wind through the glass as she wrote in fine ink, "Sophie Mitchell — #27 — STRK — Van Buren, ME" on her paper. Jordan was talking, describing in vivid detail the winning score at the Maine State Championship when Mitchell body slammed a defender during her assist to her teammate.

    "—And Mitchell barrel rolled. She got to her feet—the coach is screaming on the sidelines—the defender she took out is still on the ground when #35 heads the ball into the net. It was amazing! The crowd goes wild!" Jordan said, waving her arms in the air.

    Brynn hollered at the other end of the room, and the girls giggled as Coach Maguire rolled her eyes. Coach rubbed her fingers over the bridge of her nose and sighed. Jordan bowed to the crowd, and Rosalie put down her pen to clap with the others.

    Joanna pushed to her feet then as Jordan stepped back from the computer for the next presentation. Joanna skipped down from the carpeted outskirts of the conference room and approached the stand. She rubbed her hand under her nose and picked at one of her ear piercings as Jordan took her seat. Coach was staring at her for the long span of silence in which nothing happened.

    "Spencer," Coach said.

    "Yes, Coach," Joanna said, feigning innocence. A few of the girls snickered.

    Coach gestured theatrically for Joanna to begin.

    "Oh, right," Joanna said, startled. She tapped a button on the computer that opened up her powerpoint. The girls were already giggling, and the laughter went tenfold when a screenshot showed up on the projector. It was a still from the footage of her assigned team, and in the shot, one of the girls was making a face of intense concentration, her ponytail sticking straight in the air. Rosalie covered her mouth to keep her amusement in check, because it was clear that Coach Maguire was not amused.

    Joanna clicked ahead.

    A circle went around the girl's face.

    "This bitch is Breana Verdecchia," Joanna said.

    "Language, Spencer," Coach said, halfway to covering Kayla's ears. Kayla swatted her mother away.

    "Verdecchia," Joanna said with more vigor. She pronounced each syllable with gusto, punctuated by the motion of her hand like a true Italian chef. She changed the picture on screen, and it was some photo dug up from the bowels of Facebook from Homecoming weekend. It was taken in the thick of the mosh pit in the middle of what looked like the school's gym.

    Joanna clasped her hands onto the edge of the podium and said, "I'm friends with her on Facebook now."

    "You've got to be kidding me," Coach sighed. "What does this have to do with anything?"

    The room was in chaos. Ray had her head on the table, pounding her fist against it, and Juliana eyes were wide with horror. Brynn was on the ground laughing.

    "Honestly I think Virginia just has a bad track record because these hooligans scored ten-to-zero at State championships," Joanna said. "I've never seen a cleaner sweep than that, you know what I'm saying? I mean, unless we're talking Kaiserslautern International, in which case—"

    "Your point, Spencer," Coach insisted.

    "My point, Coach, is that either Chesapeake Charter's the greatest team in the Region, or the collective state of Virginia is about as swampy as the Great Dismal Swamp National Park, and Chesapeake's completely average. Which, by the way, is a short twenty-minute drive from Chesapeake Charter," Joanna said. She changed the slide and went on. "So I went in search of answers and I've concluded that Chesapeake Charter is completely average. They've consistently won State for over a decade now, but they've never won a single match at Regionals, so there's the tea, folks. Case closed."

    "Did you even do any research on their actual stats?" Coach said.

    "I would argue that stats don't matter when the entire team's trash, so..." Joanna said, raising her arms in an exaggerated shrug. "Am I done now?"

    "Yes. Now who else researched Chesapeake Charter? Elgin?" Coach said.

    As Joanna descended from her perch at the computer, Mia Elgin, a sophomore JV transfer like Jordan, pushed up from the table and stepped up to the podium. Rosalie still had her hand over her mouth as Joanna returned to her and dropped down beside her. Rosalie turned to stare at Joanna, who leant her elbows back on the stair behind them.

    "What?" Joanna whispered.

    Rosalie shook her head and went back to focusing on the actual Chesapeake Charter presentation.

    As Mia talked, Rosalie wondered about Coach's lineup for scrimmages that Thursday. They'd have a night to practice with the new lineup before meeting again on Saturday with the team Coach enlisted for help. Jordan was certainly in the lineup, as was Lu, if Jordan was put in as a defender, that is. Juliana would be taking centerfield, and Erin McAlister would keep her position as a leftwing striker. It left one open spot.

    Rosalie had the field mapped out in her mind, rearranging her teammates like pieces on a chessboard. As she visualized the landscape within the indoor arena, leant forward over her knees, Joanna sat beside her, her head tipped back against the windowsill. Joanna had her knees pulled up, her wrists resting on them, and her head turned as if looking at the screen. Thankfully, though, Rosalie was between her and the screen, so Joanna let her eyes linger on the back of Rosalie's head during the course of the presentations.

    When the presentations concluded, Rosalie remained blissfully unaware of the fact that Joanna had stared at her for the entirity of it. Rosalie perked up as the Coach reminded them of practice that Thursday, and was then distracted by Ray getting up from the table nearby. Rosalie pushed to her feet, about to call after her, but Ray was already escaping from the room.

    Rosalie took a halfhearted step down from the windows. She huffed, staring after her friend as Juliana stepped up beside her, her short hair tied back into a ponytail. The loose tendrils at the nape of her neck curled near her ears as she sighed beside Rosalie, shaking her head.

    "I tried to talk to her about Pittmen on the way over here," Juliana confessed.

    "What did she say?" Rosalie asked, turning to face her. Juliana puffed out her freckled cheeks and shrugged. Rosalie frowned. "Well, that isn't helpful."

    "She answered my question with more questions, what can I say?" Juliana said.

    Joanna was on her feet now, and when she slipped between them with her arms out, Juliana shrieked in shock. She ducked out of the way to avoid being caught under Joanna's arm, but Rosalie stayed put and merely rolled her eyes when Joanna shook her by the shoulders.

    "Don't sneak up on me like that," Juliana whined, shoulders tensed up to her ears.

    Joanna reached out to punch her in the arm, but Juliana shrieked again and jumped out of the way. She stuck her tongue out at Joanna and ran off, nabbing her coat along the way. Joanna laughed and leant over to watch as Juliana made her escape, thoroughly frazzled.

    "I think I freaked her out in Delaware," Joanna commented.

    "She was already freaked out," Rosalie confessed. Joanna raised an eyebrow at her, and Rosalie sighed. "Long story."

    "Remind me to ask about it later," Joanna said. She leant away to pick up her jacket. As she slipped her arms into the sleeves, she asked, "Do you need a ride? I've got the Lieutenant's car."

    Rosalie was momentarily distracted by the fact that when Joanna slipped the jacket on, she leant forward, and Rosalie was reminded of why the dress code demanded all shirts be buttoned up to the collar. She looked away, astounded that she was swept into thinking about how the lull in practices correlated to Joanna wearing less sports bras and more actual bras.

    As shots fired in her head, her eyes focused on Coach Maguire, who was heading in their direction. She distracted herself with saying, "Coach! What's up?"

    Her enthusiasm had Coach Maguire stuttering, hesitating several paces away before pointing a finger at Joanna and saying, "I'm gonna need you to get your piercings removed for Regionals. You barely skimmed by at State."

    Joanna slumped with a groan. Before she could argue, Coach went on, "I'm serious, Spencer. I want those anchors out. Last thing I want is you getting disqualified before the match even starts."

    Joanna glowered at Coach. She forcefully zipped her jacket up to her chin and flicked her hair off to the side. As she turned to leave, Coach snapped her fingers at Rosalie, who jumped at the action. She met Coach's stern, furious gaze. "Make sure she actually gets it done. She's got three weeks—best to get it done sooner than later."

    "Right," Rosalie agreed with a tense nod.

    She gathered her things as Coach left them. Joanna was already at the door, and when Rosalie caught up, her mind was made up. Joanna waited expectantly, that sinister smile on her lips as Rosalie slowed beside her, slipping past the conference room threshold.

    Rosalie stepped out onto the hallway tiles. She took a deep breath, a smile on her lips as she clasped her hands to the straps of her backpack. When she nodded to Joanna, her hair bounced with it, and Joanna's grin only stretched wider. "Alright. I guess I could use a ride," Rosalie said.

***
a/n: The rest of the chapter is about Lennie x Ray and potentially mature topics about sexuality (or lack thereof hehe) and depending on how you look at it, dysphoria and gender.

    Jamie-Lee Berry was Lennie's first concern of the afternoon. Without practice to occupy Jamie's minuscule attention span, and with the Lions still in their continual routine, Jamie was eager for distractions.

    Lennie was always Jamie's first target.

    Lennie already had a plan.

    As they dropped into their designated seats in Lennie's car, Lennie said, "Let's sit in on Adams' practice."

    Jamie clapped his hands and rubbed them together in faux malevolence. "You read my fucking mind," Jamie said.

    Little did Jamie-Lee Berry know that Lennie would be bailing after the first hour with a smooth excuse that he had plans with his mother. It would be a simple lie and one Lennie could manage, especially given the circumstances—AKA, Blake Miles. Lennie never thought Blake would be his saving grace until now.

    Miss Pittmen wouldn't be home until eight, and when Lennie left the Lions' training field, it was barely five. It was just late enough into the practice, though, that Jamie was thrilled to stay the rest of the time with the promise of getting a ride from Blake later.

    Lennie took his keys from his pocket as he jogged down the sidewalk and crossed over the curb. He narrowly missed an oncoming car as he cut through the parking lot and slipped between rows of parked vehicles. The trees around the Adam High campus were bare now, leaving behind bright golden leaves on the asphalt where the late fall frost dampened them under Lennie's sneakers.

    He grazed his fingers across the hood of his car as he wound around to the driver's side. The air was cool enough to turn his fingertips red as he unlocked the door, pulled out his phone, and dropped into the driver's seat with the words "Leaving now" on the tip of his fingers.

    Just as he started up the engine, his phone buzzed in the cupholder. He lifted it and read off of his notifications, "Leaving Hell." He laughed despite himself and covered his mouth with the back of his hand, as if he had anyone to hide it from.

    It took far too long for him to make it to his neighborhood. It seemed every hour was rush hour in Montgomery, but it gave Ray Hartley just enough time to beat Lennie to his own house. When he pulled into the driveway, Ray was swinging her car door shut and twirling out into the open. She landed in a lunge, inches away from the hood of his car.

    As he got out, he said, "You know you aren't supposed to stand in front of a moving vehicle, right?"

    "I live dangerously," she said, springing back up.

    Lennie locked his car as Ray approached him. He still had his arm out when she leant into him. He dipped into the kiss, his mouth opening against hers. He felt her fingers against the small of his back, pressing their hips together, and spreading warmth up from his toes and along the shiver up his spine. Without thinking, he brought his extended hand to her hair, pushing it back and grazing his thumb along her jaw as the kiss lulled and they parted. His tongue tingled in the aftermath, and he could feel the path her own tongue had taken along the inside of his cheek.

    Ray closed her mouth over his lips for one last kiss that ended with her teeth hooked on his bottom lip. When she pulled away, Lennie leant after her, eyes opening to capture the grin tugging at her smile lines.

    She twisted away and started for the front door. Neither of them spoke as Lennie unlocked the door. Three days after Delaware and they already had a rhythm that didn't require words, and judging by Ray's hurried jog through the foyer, Lennie figured he wasn't the only one perfectly okay with that.

    Ray kicked off her shoes the instant she swung into Lennie's room. The Halloween party certainly wasn't long enough for her to explore and find it—besides, it was locked that night—but the past three afternoons had been spent in this exact location.

    Immediately inside his room came a short few steps that Ray vaulted over. Attached to the ceiling was a pull-up bar that, with her momentum, vaulted her several yards into the room. She landed smoothly, only to twist off balance as she flopped side-ways onto Lennie's bed. She watched as Lennie ditched his backpack on his desk chair, shrugging off his jacket as he crossed the room.

    When he leant over the bed, his hand fell to the comforter beside Ray's hip. His knee slid up between her legs as her fingers curled into his hair, the pressure dragging him forward. Ray's lips tasted like spearmint, sweet around the edges so that when Lennie pulled back, he licked at the corner of his mouth and hummed at the taste.

    "What brand of mint is—?" he started to ask, but his words cut off by another kiss.

    Ray pulled him forward, her hands on his cheeks. Each kiss was harsher than the last, the intensity bruising in its pace. He fell into it, his heart thrumming in his ears and beating heavy against his chest. He wondered if Ray could feel it when she pressed her chest close to his at every harsh breath.

     He felt her hand brush against his stomach as she reached down between them. A moment later, the zipper on her uniform slacks came undone, and Lennie followed the motion with his hand over her own, his fingers grazing her stomach as she untucked her button up, her knees falling to the side. His heart pounded harder, faster. The pads of his fingers brushed over goosebumps.

    Ray's skin was smooth and taunt over her toned abdomen. He relished in it, laying open-mouthed kisses over every love bite he left behind the day before. Her muscles tightened, her thighs squeezing against his shoulders as he laved his tongue along the line of her underwear.

    "Fuck," Ray moaned, unable to keep herself up. She dropped back into the comforter, her hair splayed out.

    Lennie looked up at her as he pushed away to tug her slacks off. He pulled hard as soon as the hem passed her knees, and she laughed as he balled them up and chucked them across the room. She tucked her chin against her shoulder, watching him with an alluring