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It was dangerously easy to be attracted to Lindsey Horan.
Emily learned this quickly, tripping over the realization one day during a national team camp. It had started like any other camp, everyone laughing and shoving, everything teeming with an intoxicating undercurrent of We’re here. This was what they all lived for, what they had devoted themselves to, what made their hearts race and their blood pound. Top of the sport. A little voice whispered to all of them. Best in the world. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once, and every moment she played or watched Emily felt a burning feeling in her stomach that was at the same time dread of failure and pure joy at the very experience.
Soccer had always been in Emily’s life. It was what she did in her free time, what she thought about doing when she was otherwise occupied. Being on a soccer field had always been like coming home.
Getting the call up to the national team had felt like a fever dream while it was happening. After, it felt like she could run forever without breaking a sweat, like nothing in the world could touch her. It had been euphoric, one of the best moments in her life.
Arriving at camp brought with it a host of conflicting feelings. Chief among them was anticipation, a burning desire to prove herself, to play better, her best. Determination wasn’t far behind, something that had settled into her bones the days before she stepped onto the pitch, inspired by bitter fear. This was the National Women's Soccer Team, an elite squad populated by women Emily had watched, wide eyed, through all of high school and college, Megan Rapinoe, Carly Lloyd, Tobin Heath, Kelley O’Hara.
Emily giggled nervously at the thought. Her inner brain provided endless useful comments, “No fucking around now kid,” “Welcome to the big leauges.” Cliches, all of them, and nothing that made her feel better.
Meeting the team had been nothing short of terrifying, something she covered by laughing loudly and acting like she was anything but shaking in her cleats. Stepping onto the field calmed her somewhat, it was familiar. She had always loved soccer because the rules were clear, the objective simple. It gave her a kind of clarity she was hard pressed to find in normal life.
Unfortunately, this clarity allowed the reality of her situation to set in, and the panic was almost choking. It stayed with her through most of the warm ups, and only abated as practice kicked into gear. It had almost faded entirely by the time she slide tackled Lindsey Horan.
It was the scrimmage that really soothed the last of the anxiety from her frame and quieted the fearful voice in the back of her mind. This was muscle memory, something she did almost every day of her life. In a way her brain turned itself off when she played, the more primal, objective focused part of herself taking over. Nothing to fear here.
And so when the opportunity presented itself, Emily didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t her best tackle, but it was clean, and sent Lindsey Horan spinning to the left in a last second attempt to evade. The ball swept the other way, carried away by one of Emily’s teammates, and she was back on her feet in a second, sliding back into position. Some part of herself was freaking out as this all happened, you’re tackling Lindsey Horan you’re tackling Lindsey Horan YOU'RE TACKLING LINDSEY HORAN. But this part had been pushed mostly to the side, and didn’t really bother her until they broke for dinner.
Lindsey approached her later, laughing and congratulating her on the tackle. Kelley piped in, “You took down The Great Horan, rookie!” and they all laughed. It was a good moment, a great one, and Emily felt nothing short of elated.
From there, her career progressed. She wasn’t starting, of course, but she hadn’t expected to. She was still green, a rookie, she had to earn her stripes. But she kept getting invited to national camps, kept playing with Tobin and Kelley and Lindsey, and gradually felt herself integrating smoothly into the team. It was amazing, it was everything she wanted. She found friends in Lindsey, in Rose, in Mal and Sam and even Kelley.
The day she learned to look at Lindsey in a new way mirrored that first day in a way that she felt was deeply ironic. More scrimmiging, slide into the hindbrain, play because that’s what your body is meant to do. She saw the opportunity, she took the tackle.
Tackling Lindsey Horan was not easy. She was big, she was fast, she was agile. Eight out of ten times, she saw the tackle coming and could dodge or pass out of danger. That first day of camp had been an anomaly, which was part of why it had felt so good. Since then Emily had learned that catching Lindsey with a slide tackle was more than hard, and was a thing to be celebrated.
This time, the slide connected, the ball spun away, and Lindsey didn’t manage to keep her footing. She managed to spin in the air somehow and didn’t come down on top of Emily, but it was a close thing. They were both on their feet quickly, getting sucked back into the game so quickly Emily forgot about it almost immediately. Then she looked over and fell again.
Objectively, Emily kows Lindsey was hot. She worked with some of the top athletes in the United States, the world even, some of the most attractive women anyone would ever meet. She had seen Lindsey in various states of undress in the locker rooms, sat almost naked in tubs of ice with her, watched her lift weights with her hips. She was never quite sure why she was hit with the full force of her attraction in this one moment, but later she thinks it might have something to do with the sun.
Lindsey was backpedaling in this singular moment, watching Tobin carry the ball up the right side of the field. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, her exposed skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat, her eyes so green it knocks the wind right out of Emily’s chest.
She thinks, oh, promptly manages to fall backwards over nothing. And then Lindsey is there, helping her up, and she thinks oh shit. Because it’s a clear, sunny day and Lindsey’s hair looks like spun gold. Because her eyes are bright, and Emily can see brown and gold flecks in her irises. Because Lindsey’s breathing hard, and her skin is practically glowing and she's got this intense look on her face as she pulls Emily to her feet, one she feels hot and low in her stomach.
And then Lindsey is back in the game, running after the ball, and Emily thinks oh shit.
From then on things are different. For Emily, at least. She and Lindsey had become friends over the years, best friends, and now things were very, very different. Because Lindsey had always smiled at her, but before it had just been a smile. Now it was an expression that wrinkled her nose and showed those perfect teeth and made her eyes dance. Lindsey had always played with her hair, but now, when her fingers ran across Emily’s scalp, she had to stop herself from moaning out loud. Because they had always been physically close, both of them enjoying the contact, but now it made Emily feel hot and wanting and that made every movie night or brush of the hands both torturous and wonderful.
Lindsey has a boyfriend. Emily knows this. They’re best friends, she’s heard all about Russel, even met him a few times. He’s a nice guy. This doesn’t alleviate the burning jealousy that consumes her every time she sees them hold hands, or when he drops a casual kiss on Lindsey’s cheek. Emily just averts her eyes and tries to think about something else.
Then, one day, the breakup happens. Lindsey doesn’t tell Emily what caused it, and she doesn’t ask. She just orders thai food, and lets Lindsey cry into her shoulder while Netflix plays on the TV. Lindsey stays the night, and when Emily wakes up with Lindsey on top of her, still sound asleep with tear tracks dried on her cheeks, she tries not to think how good Lindsey’s weight feels on top of her.
For a while things are normal. They play, they eat, they sleep. The Thorns are doing well, Emily is friends with Tobin and Lindsey and Ellie, things are great. They play hard and go to restaurants together, get drunk on rare occasions. Emily loves it, and she loves being around Lindsey.
Things change between them slowly, subtly. Emily has been aware of her attraction to Lindsey for a while now, but she never imagined anything would ever come of it. But as weeks and months pass and they become better and better friends, and all of a sudden their touches feel different. Lindsey comes to Emily’s apartment almost every night, sleeps over more often than not, and when they fall asleep together there’s always some feeling while they lay there in the dark. Emily is always the little spoon, and she loves how big Lindsey is, how she surrounds her.
And then they’re having breakfast together, holding hands constantly, brushing arms and thighs whenever they can. They’re bus buddies, always, and switch rooms so that they’re always sleeping in the same room. Everyone acknowledges, slowly, that they’re a unit. It becomes “Sonnett and Lindsey,” a pair instead of individuals. If given the chance, Emily would admit that she loves this, but no one ever bothers to ask.
She loves spending time with Lindsey. Loves holding her hand, and feeling the heat of her body. She loves laughing and joking and even just sitting in silence. They fit together effortlessly, and Emily has never felt more comfortable with someone. Emily can’t mistake the looks Lindsey gives her sometimes when their touches linger, or the way Lindsey always gets as close to her as possible, or the gentle, fond way Lindsey smiles at her sometimes.
Everything comes to a head in France. It’s tense, the air is electric, everyone is wired and excited and practically vibrating with contained energy. They move through the rounds with precision and enthusiasm, and when the final whistle of the Netherlands game blows they all erupt.
The celebration that follows is epic. There’s champagne, and confetti, and everyone is yelling and singing and Emily feels incredible, amazing, like she’s walking on air. People drift away from the locker room in groups, mostly, but Emily sees Tobin and Christen slip away, and feels a hand on her arm. When she turns Lindsey is looking at her in a way that makes her blood thrill, intense and focused. Lindsey’s eyes are boring into Emily’s, and she’s moving closer, and closer, and all of a sudden they’re chest to chest, nose to nose, so close Emily can feel Lindsey’s breath on her lips.
“Do, ah,” Lindsey’s voice is soft and breathy, her eyes darting from Emily’s eyes to her mouth. “Do you want to get out of here?” Emily can’t remember exactly what she says, but she knows it’s overwhelmingly yes, and then they’re scrambling into an uber, Emily practically in Lindsey’s lap because she can feel how the air has shifted around them and she wants this, god she wants this so bad.
The ride up to the room is silent, but they lock eyes, the look Lindsey gives her is intense and wanting, and it sends a shock down Emily’s spine.
Then they’re in the room and the door is shutting behind them, and Emily’s been pinned to the wall and Lindsey’s lips are on her. Emily has kissed people before, kissed people and been attracted to them and it’s felt good, but the press of Lindsey’s lips is an entirely new feeling. It makes her entire body shudder, and Lindsey’s is pushing her harder against the wall and it feels incredible. They’re kissing deeply, desperately, and then Lindsey pulls back and Emily whines, leans forward to chase her, but then Lindsey whips her shirt off and every thought is blown out of her head.
Emily has seen Lindsey without her shirt on. She’s seen her in nothing but her panties and bra, seen her soaking wet in spandex shorts. But now, in this hotel room that looks just like every hotel room they’ve ever been in, the sight of Lindsey’s bare abs is almost overwhelming. Lindsey gives her a dark, sultry look, and then they’re kissing again, only now Emily can feel Lindsey’s naked torso pressed against her. She manages to push them off the wall and towards the bed, and somewhere along the way loses both her shirt and bra. The cool air makes her gasp into Lindsey’s mouth, and then Lindsey is reaching up pinching her nipples, tugging and pulling and she has to pull away and groan.
Lindsey pulls back and grins, wriggles out of her bra, and Emily has half a second to admire this new view before Lindsey is leaning down and a hot, wet mouth is on her breast. Before she knows it Lindsey lifts up her hips and pulls her shorts and panties off in one swift motion, and she’s fully exposed. Emily lifts herself onto her elbows and watches, chest heaving, as Lindsey smirks at her and drops to her knees at the edge of the bed.
Lindsey leans forward, and the first touch of her mouth against Emily has Emily throwing her head back and moaning so loudly she feels a burst of embarrassment. That embarrassment is blown swiftly away as Lindsey runs her tongue through Emily’s folds, flicking her clit and then sucking it into her mouth and sucking. Emily’s mouth falls open and she scratches at the sheets, looking for a handhold. She feels Lindsey smirk around her clit, and she brings her hand up and slides a single finger up and in. She started pumping gently and Emily moans loudly, threading her fingers through Lindsey’s hair. Lindsey adds one more finger and then sucks firmly, and it sends Emily crashing over the edge.
As she comes down from her orgasm Lindsey licks through her folds gently, then rises back up her body and kisses her again. Emily smiles against Lindsey’s lips, rolls her over. It feels good to be on top of Lindsey, to look at her flushed face, her lips still wet from Emily’s orgasm, nipples puckered and waiting. They take a moment and Emily rests her hands on Lindsey’s collarbones, taking a breath as she devours the sight before her. Lindsey gives a breathy laugh and raises an eyebrow.
“What are you waiting for, Stud? A written invitation?” Emily grins and lowers her mouth, savoring the gasp and string of curses that comes from Lindsey’s mouth.
They come back from France and things have changed. They had always been close, emotionally and physically, but now they’re practically on top of each other. Lindsey still spends every night at Emily’s house, but now they spend much of that time in bed, kissing and worshipping. They go to breakfast together and blush and laugh at the teasing from their teammates, and hold hands under the table. They kiss frequently, out of the sight of others, and interact with a casual intimacy that sends a thrill through Emily whenever she thinks about it.
It was easy to be attracted to Lindsey Horan. Easy to notice how beautiful she was, how toned and kind and all around amazing. The relationship isn’t always as easy, but they always end up curled together on the couch, wrapped tightly together, falling asleep there more often than not.
It was easy to be attracted to Lindsey Horan. It was incredible to love her, and to be loved by her.