Page 30 of Couple Goals

Kevin seems taken in by Kira’s utter confidence, and perhaps he’s influenced by the way Kira seems an extension of Coach. He heads off, already calling someone on his phone.

Maeve wishes she had a Matilda-like power to shoot lasers with her eyes and explode Kira’s smug face. Kira is up in her personal space now, post-goal elation making her even cockier.

Maeve grabs up their training equipment and throws them into the store herself, and heads off to shower in the privacy of her secondfloor locker room. But Kira just follows her, still goading.

‘Go on, say what you’re thinking,’ Kira tests her.

‘What I’m really thinking?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, what I’m really thinking is that I wish your smug face would explode. Now fuckoffand stop following me.’

‘Ha! But the thing is, Murphy, I can’t fuck off, can I? We’re in a team together, we train together, we’re going for the same goal, together…’

Maeve’s so riled up that it’s only when the door closes behind her and Kira leans confidently back on it, that Maeve realises Kira’s followed her to what she still thinks of as her private shower room.

They study each other in a moment of silence, the only sound a light dripping of the shower and the whirring of an extractor fan.

Kira drops her training bag from her shoulder, and takes a slow, confident step towards Maeve.

‘I also trust my instincts,’ she says slowly. ‘And my gut tells me that you really don’t hate me as much as you’re trying to pretend so hard you do.’

Maeve turns sharply away, trying to open her locker, but she can’t undo her padlock because her hands are shaking. Just like she’s been dreading, Kira has seen through her.

Maeve turns when she hears Kira’s step behind her. Maeve’s breathing is shallow and fast. Kira’s so close now, and Maeve automatically steps back to maintain their distance – but her back lands against the hard and cold lockers. She can’t move away.

Kira leans a hand over Maeve’s head, and Maeve feels dizzy.

‘If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,’ Kira says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Maeve swallows.

‘But I don’t think you want me to stop, do you, Murphy?’

In all Maeve’s conflicted feelings about Kira, about their rivalry, about her jealousy and admiration, lust and frustration, she hadn’t ever contemplated what she would actually do if Kira wanted her too. Maeve feels the same charged tension between them as when they’re on the pitch competing against each other, electricity in the air.

Their faces are very close now. She should know that Kira won’t back down from a dare.

‘You talk a big talk, don’t you,’ Maeve tries to sound confident. ‘But you’re all bark, no bite.’

‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ says Kira, her voice low. ‘I can bite.’

Kira’s staring at Maeve’s mouth. She instinctively wets her lip.

And then Maeve leans in and kisses her.

Kira responds instantly, pressing her body into Maeve’s pulling her face in closer to hers. Her mouth is warm and hungry, her lips soft but intense, their movements immediately matching each others’ wanting.

All the thoughts that have been racing around Maeve’s mind suddenly still. It’s like when she’s in full flow on the pitch, her focus completely honed to the game, moving in synchrony with her teammates, testing the limits of what her muscles can do. All she is aware of is Kira’s body, so close, but not close enough.

Kira’s as good a kisser as she is a football player. It would almost be annoying if Maeve weren’t enjoying it so much.

Their bodies press into each other’s, a tangle of limbs. Maeve’s hands pull Kira closer into her, one hand clutching at Kira’s back, the other stroking the back of her shaved head.

Kira’s good on her word. Kira bites down on Maeve’s lower lip. Maeve gasps in pleasure and faux indignance.

‘Hey!’ she says. Kira pulls back, eyebrow raised.

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