93 | We Need To Talk

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"I can't believe our dumb asses thought Joanna would never find the group chat," Ray whispered, mortified. They could all feel the palpable energy of Joanna's glare through the airplane seats.

"We flew too close to the sun," Juliana sighed dramatically, a hand to her forehead. "Icarus, why can't we learn from your mistakes?"

"Icarus didn't have the internet, let alone Spencer to deal with," Ray hissed, propping her elbow on the armrest and her head in her hands.

"Were are mere mortals, destined to fail," Juliana moaned, throwing her hands up to grip the back of her seat. She slouched with a distressed groan. Brynn gave her a soft pat on the head, where Juliana had her hair tied up in a messy top knot.

Rosalie sighed as her phone buzzed in her lap. She glanced at it, and saw that Joanna was already messaging her.


JOANNA: A secret group chat, huh?

JOANNA: To talk about me

ROSALIE: It really isn't as bad as it looks

JOANNA: Uh huh, sure babe

ROSALIE: 😤

ROSALIE: Now is not the time for pet names

JOANNA: There is a time and a place for it, and that is always and everywhere

JOANNA: Babe 😉

ROSALIE: ugh

ROSALIE: and in regards to the group chat

ROSALIE: It was something that happened, like, TWO YEARS ago. And then it sort of resurrected after what happened in Delaware

ROSALIE: Its inception wasn't because of you, I promise

JOANNA: Fine

ROSALIE: Really?

ROSALIE: I expected you to be angrier

JOANNA: O I'm pissed

JOANNA: I just don't think it's productive to vent right now

ROSALIE: That's very rational of you

JOANNA: Storing up my energy

ROSALIE: Like a bear?

JOANNA: Precisely

ROSALIE: Vicious

JOANNA: I hope so


Rosalie twisted around in her seat, laughing, and managed to catch sight of Joanna snickering several rows behind her, across the aisle. Joanna looked up and, after catching Rosalie's eye, put her middle finger up to block Rosalie's view of her face.

"Gay," Ray teased under her breath, giggling when Rosalie punched her in the arm.

The plane descended just an hour from then, and they felt it in the gentle slope of the plane tipping as it curved around the airport, readying for descent. The clouds streamed over the windows before dissolving into the view of the city skyline encompassed around the curve in the Mississippi. Rosalie looked to where some of the sophomores were leaning over to peer out the window, barely restrained by their seatbelts.

The plane landed with a jostling bump. The overhead compartments clattered around, and Rosalie's teeth clanked together in her mouth. She turned a smile onto Ray, who grinned and bumped their elbows together. "You ready, Mason?" she teased.

"Gosh, I hope so," Rosalie sighed, and soon, she was unbuckling and rising from her seat to join the masses in the aisle of the plane.

Slowly but surely, they endured the snail crawl to the exit of the plane all whilst juggling duffle bags over their heads to avoid clocking old ladies in their seats. Rosalie waited at the curve in the terminal bridge, the humid, Minnesota heat clinging to her like a second skin beneath her sweats.

As she waited, Lennie emerged from the plane, hair mused on one side of his head where Rosalie suspected he had been sleeping on it. She pointed to the spot on her own head, and Lennie put a hand up to smooth his hair out.

"Not quite," she said, laughing.

Lennie sighed and said, "I don't have the energy for this. I don't know how women manage to look perfect all of the time."

"Sweet, unexpected compliment, but severely untrue," Rosalie said.

He scoffed and said, "Yes, well, I wasn't talking about you in that group."

Rosalie's jaw dropped as Lennie snickered and walked on ahead. He took a few steps before turning back with a grimace and saying, "You know that was a joke, right? Please tell me you got that—"

Rosalie cupped her hand over her mouth and shouted past her teammates, saying, "Your sense of humor needs to be rexamined, Lennie!"

She dropped her hands to the side, swaying on her sneakers as she turned back towards the plane's exit, where she caught sight of Joanna's pouting, pursed lips and tired amber eyes looking at her from over the shoulder of a passenger exiting the plane. Rosalie readjusted her bag on her shoulder, her hands clasped to the strap as she smiled at Joanna and said, "You sure do look like a bear right now."

"Oh, shut up," Joanna huffed, but Rosalie could hear the laugh in it yearning to break free.

Rosalie turned to clock Joanna in the arm with her duffle, doing a full three-sixty before swinging back into the line of people exiting the terminal. Joanna swayed from the hit, but bounced back swiftly.

They walked with the team down the row of a dozen terminals and empty airport seats. They walked quietly amongst their chaotic teammates, and Rosalie studied the art on the walls of the airport as they headed for the gate exit.

Before they could approach the ramp, though, Rosalie caught sight of Lennie stepping back from Ray, before they could pass security. Ray glanced back at Lennie, who swept back around to the gate, and the doorway where Rosalie paused, hesitant. Ray chased after him. For all the ways Lennie's expressions felt and looked muted, this was very clearly panic.

"Okay, remember that time I said we were dating?" Lennie said, quickly and under his breath.

Rosalie startled, opening her mouth to speak, with Joanna droned, "No, I don't, regale me."

Lennie glared at her and Ray stepped in front of Joanna and said, "Holy shit, we don't have time for this. Lennie said he saw Dodge. Here. Like, waiting outside of the gate."

Rosalie looked to Joanna immediately. To her surprise, Joanna didn't miss a beat. "Explain to me why Lennie knows what she looks like? I didn't quite catch that."

Ray's jaw dropped, only to snap back up as she looked to Rosalie, eyes wide. Rosalie stared back, and then at Lennie, who gestured vaguely to Rosalie and said, "She, uh, described what Arden looked like—"

"This isn't a fucking police sketch, alright?" Joanna snapped, her voice pitching. Rosalie put a hand out to stop Joanna from lunging at Lennie right then and there. It didn't stop her from running her mouth, though. "And you're a shit liar, Pittmen—"

"Okay! Okay, please just... take a second, all right?" Rosalie insisted, and Joanna stepped back with a heated scowl on her face. She glanced at Rosalie, still seething, and yanked at her sweatshirt to pull it down over her hips. She turned away with a huff as Rosalie looked to Lennie and said, "You sure it was her?"

"Positive," he said. "She honestly probably saw me—"

"How the fuck d—" Joanna started, shrill, and Ray shushed her. Joanna yanked angrily at her sweatshirt again, looking like she wanted to stomp her feet and throw a tantrum.

Instead, Joanna froze, her eyes zoning on on something, or rather someone, behind Ray and Lennie. Rosalie turned, ponytail swinging, and felt her heart swing with it, only to plummet into her stomach at the sight of a familiar, silver-haired woman waiting for them at the top of the ramp beside the security desk.

Arden Dodge was there, and she wasn't alone.

Her silver hair was half-tied back into a high ponytail, and her lacey, black-mesh shirt was tucked into the high waist of a pair of washed-out, grey jeans. The look was polished off with high black platform boots, a black bralet, and a choker. Bottom line: She looked like an Instagram model somehow found herself at the Minneapolis airport with her entourage that consisted of Saint Carter's lithe right wingman and their wideset defensive player, Natalie Young and Lily Owens.

"Fuck," Joanna whispered, and Rosalie could hear the quiver in her voice.

"I can tell her to go away," Rosalie said, as if that would do anything. They were still days away from competing against Arden Dodge, and there was the ultimate chance that Saint Carter was at the same hotel as them. There were already so many opportunities for Arden to interfere.

But Rosalie had hoped she wouldn't, at least not until the Lieutenant was there for damage control.

"Damn, she's pretty," Ray said, and Lennie gave her a dull look. "What! I'm straight. Am I not allowed to admire women?"

Lennie turned his narrow eyes onto Rosalie, who sighed. "She's... very noticeable, yes, I agree."

Ray put her hands on her hips. "That isn't the same as pretty," she said.

"Can we just—stop talking about it? We aren't blind," Joanna hissed, her back to the wall where she was just out of view of the exit.

They couldn't stick around long, though, not when a crowd of passengers were leaving the gate and inadvertently ushering them out. Rosalie felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest, but it was nothing compared to the cacophony in Joanna's brain that sent her tripping out into the open, staggering with the weight of her duffle under her arm, and the pull of her backpack on her tight shoulders.

Joanna's eyes met Arden's.

With the ramp between them, Joanna could still see the soft, plastic smile on Arden's pink lips. The triumph there was too much for Joanna to ignore, let alone walk away from. She could hear Rosalie's insistence at the back of her head, urging her to face her fears rather than cower at them.

She's only human, Joanna wanted to say, but humans were capable of too much anguish, and Joanna had already gotten a taste of it.

Joanna's eyes settled on the scar on Arden's jaw before her gaze flitted down to the carpet, to the walls, and gradually, towards Lennie and Rosalie. The muscles in her arms threatened to spasm as she clutched at her duffle.

"I need to talk to her," Joanna said.

"No, you don't," Rosalie insisted, but Joanna couldn't help the stage fright gripping her heart so tightly. Stage fright was temporary—if she could convince herself that her fear of Arden Dodge was temporary, then she could face the immediate danger head on.

Joanna spent a year engaging in a dangerous cycle of torment that only spiraled her image of Arden. In it, she forgot that Arden was human—until that moment she stood at the bottom of the ramp, staring up at the enemy.

Joanna tore her gaze away and pinned Rosalie with a glare. "You promised. Let me deal with this," she said, and with that, shouldered her duffle and started ahead of the group.

The instant she had momentum, Joanna couldn't stop. Arden's pale eyes tracked her, her smile widening and showing the dimples in her cheeks, and the sharp edge of her canines that Joanna used to adore. That had all been ruined a year ago, even more than that.

Joanna set her jaw tight and strolled to the top of the ramp. She swayed nonchalantly at the top, tucking her hands into the front of her hoodie, and watching Arden as the girl took a deep, relaxed breath and let it out with a hint of dreaminess to it.

Joanna was rendered speechless by the sheer difference in Arden's features from the last she had seen Arden. Her hair was styled differently, her brows were treated differently, she was tanner. Joanna wondered if Arden gave up her feud with the sun and figured she had, given the soft, bronze glow on her otherwise white, angelic skin. She felt... taller as well, or perhaps that could be attributed to the platform boots.

Joanna wouldn't have recognized her, not as quickly as she expected to after thinking about Arden all this time. But thinking was far different from seeing. Joanna's mental image of Arden had frayed, decayed, and transformed into something that Arden simply wasn't. It made looking Arden in the eyes a bit easier.

Arden's expression relaxed as she put her hands out in a broad gesture and said, "Hey, Spencer. Been a while."

Shit, Joanna thought, because one thing didn't change: Arden's chipper voice. It sent a shudder up her spine that she couldn't repress, and it sent her hackles raising in discomfort.

"It has," Joanna said, curtly.

Arden ducked her head with a soft laugh, and Joanna took the break in eye-contact to recognize the two pricks with Arden. She had seen their faces on Rosalie's computer screen, when the two of them would study together for finals. Rosalie had a god awful habit of researching their competitors, and unfortunately, that included Saint Carter's lineup.

One of the girls put a hand out to Joanna. "Natalie," she said, "and this is Owens."

Joanna didn't even think to return the handshake. Instead, she turned to Arden and said, "You tell them about me?"

Arden clasped her hands together, inadvertently cracking her knuckles as she smiled, tipped her head, and said, "Of course. Isn't that what girls do at slumber parties?"

Joanna scoffed. She ran her tongue along her teeth as she looked away and watched Rosalie's eyes trail over to them as she passed. Joanna's eyes dropped to where that rat bastard Pittmen had his hand clasped to Rosalie's. Ray was farther ahead, completely off of Joanna's radar until then.

"Your friends are pretty cute," Arden commented, and it made Joanna feel like she was at a suburban barbeque making small talk with a woman named Susan. "I'm surprised you haven't slept with them."

"I'm not a slut, now am I?" Joanna hissed, her lips twitching uncomfortably. She couldn't tell if it was because she wanted to cry or scream. Her eyes shot back to where Arden gave her a sweet, pitying look, lips pursed and eyes wide and doll-like. "And you really fucked that up for me, didn't you?"

"Watch it," the defender said, voice husky in comparison to Arden's charm.

Arden raised a manicured finger to silence Owens. The girl sneered at Joanna, but backed off.

When Arden lowered her hand, she said, "You always were a giver, though, weren't you?"

"I'm not talking about my sex life with you," Joanna huffed.

"Who said I was talking about your sex life?" she said, and Joanna glowered at the snickers on the faces of Arden's teammates.

Joanna gestured to them and said, "So is this you trying to replicate Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb?"

Arden sighed. "You know it's not nice to call Gucci and Darling that."

"What? But it's fucking true," Joanna said.

"And I know that you adore Darling as much as I do—"

"Oh, we have two very different ways of showing that," she scoffed. Joanna couldn't stop herself from jittering, or even talking at that point. She shifted her stance, hands on her hips, fingers digging in to the bone. "Why the fuck are you here, Arden?"

Arden's expression fell, and with it, so did Joanna's nerve. She found herself glancing back where she had last seen Rosalie and Lennie walk. When she turned back, Arden was a step closer, and Joanna realized then that her smile before wasn't at all plastic—this was, though, and Joanna remembered it from Kaiserslautern.

Arden's eyes dipped down to Joanna's lips before scanning their way back up to Joanna's hair, and then around to her eyes. "Because I got you here, didn't I?" Arden said, quietly, full of pride in herself and the strings she pulled.

Joanna thought back to the email Coach had sent her, but she didn't have time to examine it now.

"Two birds with one stone, as they say," Arden said with a cheeky laugh. She bit her lip and glanced away. "Seeing you again was long overdue and... I needed to prove to someone that I could, in fact, get you here."

Joanna swallowed hard. "Don't act like this is all on you," she said.

"Oh, but it is," Arden sighed, breathless, like they were in a bedroom instead of at the gate. She looked down at Joanna with light eyes.

Joanna managed a weak scoff. "Yeah, right, and I can also see you taking credit for me getting back into soccer."

"No, definitely not. That was all on you. You could even say that we both made this reunion happen—"

Coach's whistle interrupted the inevitable spiral of Joanna's thoughts. She knew it was stupid of her to even get back into soccer, but she just couldn't fucking help herself, now could so? Arden would probably say that she asked for this to happen.

Their small group turned to look in the direction of Coach Maguire waving her clipboard in the air near a row of chairs at the center of the atrium. Rosalie was with her, looking directly in Joanna's direction, and Joanna let out a breath of relief. Thank God for Coach's innate ability to interrupt a fight.

"Well, on that note," Joanna said, stepping away from Arden. She inclined her head and said, "Shitty doing business with you, but I'm out."

Arden started after her, brow furrowed and perfect hair flowing over her shoulder. "What do you mean by that? You're here now, and you're going to Seattle—"

"I mean that I'm not on the roster," Joanna said, turning to look back at Arden. Arden watched after her, her pace slower, more meticulous than Joanna's desperation to be back with the team. Joanna glanced around them, at the shops inside the airport, and the fact that Arden had picked such a place for their "reunion."

There wasn't much Arden could do in a place as heavily secured as an American airport.

Fuck it.

"And also that you aren't my girlfriend anymore. We aren't even friends, Arden, and I'm not sorry about that because you fucked up."

Arden bristled, her fists clenched at her sides as they strayed to the outskirts of the Montgomery circle. Arden pinned Joanna with her sharp nail before pointing it to her cheek, where the scar scraped down to her jaw and said, "You did this to me! And I forgive you, and I didn't give you permission to—"

"Whoa, hey, ladies, ladies," Coach called out, slapping her hand to her clipboard. Joanna startled at the sound, and couldn't bring herself to look when Arden looked like she was a second away from grabbing Joanna to keep her from running like she desperately wanted to do.

Coach slipped through the crowd and came to stand alongside Joanna, who she looked down at and said, "We've barely landed in Minnesota and you're already picking fights with the locals. I don't know why I'm not surprised."

Joanna couldn't speak. Her tongue had shriveled up into a crisp in her mouth. Coach bopped her on the top of the head with her clipboard and kept it there. It was all that was keeping Joanna from rocketing off into space to succumb to the earth's orbit.

Arden tossed her hair back, took a deep breath, and recollected herself with the grace of a diplomat. "Miss Maguire—Arden Dodge, captain of the Saint Carter Conquerors."

Arden stuck her hand out, and Coach stared at her for a moment in shock before nearly dropping her clipboard off of Joanna's head. She shook Arden's hand and said, "Lovely to meet you. I'd like to apologize for anything Spencer has said—It in no way reflects—"

"Oh, no worries. Joey's a... dear friend of mine," Arden said.

"We aren't friends," Joanna blurted out, before she could stop

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