Page 22 of Couple Goals

Kira has the sense to look tactfully away, to the back corner of the changing room.

‘It’s okay, you know, losing your head in the heat of a game,’ Kira says, her back still turned to her. ‘Even in a match. Getting a card isn’t always a bad thing. I’ve racked up so many I could start my own gift shop.’

Maeve barks with laughter, completely caught off guard by this joke.

Maeve quickly pulls on her pants, her sports bra, her t-shirt, and then, feeling safer now, her trousers.

‘Serena respected it, today,’ Kira carries on. ‘She liked seeing you have the ability to be aggressive. And it was just unfortunate. It wasn’t in your control that we fell like… that.’

Maeve is pulling her hoodie on, lost in her own thoughts but shethinksshe hears Kira say, ‘Not that I was complaining.’ But she must be wrong. She takes a deep breath, and faces Kira’s back – her firm shoulders and the sharply cut short hairs at the nape of her neck. Maeve wonders what it would feel like to the touch, and her fingers tingle as she imagines running her fingers through that bristle.

‘You can– You can turn around now,’ Maeve mumbles awkwardly, feeling like a woman showing her prom dress to her date. She feels aware of her hair still loosely round her shoulders, making her hood a little damp round her neck.

Kira looks back, smiles ever so slightly. Then she seems to remember something.

‘Ah,’ she says, and picks up the first aid kit. She comes towards her, gesturing at her arm. Maeve’s wound from earlier is already bleeding through again, slightly staining.

‘Oh,’ says Maeve. Since Kira’s appearance, she had not been aware of the pain at all. She rolls up her sleeve to see that her graze has actually started bleeding, and has in fact stained her hoodie. As she looks at the blood, it starts stinging like hell. It’s a surface-level wound, but one of those broad grazes which bleeds like a bitch. The side of her forearm has been scraped away, whether by the ground or Kira’s boot.

‘Ouch,’ whistles Kira, in the knowing tone of someone used to getting their own cuts and grazes. And indeed, as Maeve looks now at Kira’s knees and legs, bare under her shorts, she can see hers are covered in a patchwork of new and old cuts, scars, and bruises; the proof of someone unafraid to throw herself around for the good of the game.

Kira reaches towards Maeve’s arm, and, in order to study the wound, unexpectedly lays her hand around Maeve’s hand.

A jolt races up all through her. Maeve’s cheeks flare. She twitches her arm away and reaches towards the first aid kit.

‘Oh, I can– I can do it myself.’

‘I know you can,’ says Kira, her warm hand reaching gently again for Maeve’s arm. ‘But I think it’ll be easier if I help you. Please can I?’

Maeve feels disarmed. She’s so unused to someone trying to help her. Normally they take her independence at face value and if anything she’s the one helping others as club captain. It’s only usually Adriana who insists on helping her even when Maeve pretends she’s fine.

Maeve feels incredibly vulnerable. But it’s not a bad kind of vulnerable. In fact, it feels kind of… nice?

Quietly, Kira carefully applies disinfectant to her arm. Maeve tries to hide her flinches, and Kira keeps on, unwrapping the bandage from its packet, wrapping it smoothly round.

‘Coach isn’t going to hold it against you,’ Kira reassures her. ‘That’s not the kind of thing she holds records about.’

‘ButI’llknow. It’s on my own record,’ says Maeve quietly.

‘Then maybe your own record-keeping is too strict,’ says Kira. ‘Maybe it’s a good thing to surprise yourself every now and again anyway. That’s where some of the best break-throughs happen. From breaking your own rules.’

Maeve doesn’t reply to that. She just watches as Kira presses ice onto her wrist.

‘Thank you,’ says Maeve, so quietly she’s not sure if Kira will hear, but then Kira looks up at her, with a warm, genuine smile. She finds herself longing for the cocky, arrogant Kira from the pitch – at least Maeve knew how to fight back with that. This one’s tactics are far harder to defend against.

They stand together for a moment. Kira clears her throat.

‘Murphy, there’s something I need to tell you.’

Maeve’s heart races. Why is she wishing Kira is going to tell her something personal? That she’s gay? That she’s single?

‘Serena really was impressed with your playing earlier,’ says Kira. ‘Well, and with– withourplaying, specifically. She said we bring out something in each other, on the pitch.’

Kira rubs the back of her neck. Maeve can’t tell if she’s smug trying to hide it with modesty, or is actually feeling bashful.

‘She says she wants the two of us to spend more time training together,’ Kira explains. ‘With me as striker and you as centre-back, she wants us to raise our game to improve the team’s play at both ends of the pitch. She thinks one-on-one training could help us push each other to be better.’

Maeve flushes. Kira holds her hands up.

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