CC stumbled through the front door just as the late-afternoon light was turning gold, the kind that made everything look softer than it felt. Sweat clung to her skin, drying in uneven patches along her neck and the inside of her elbows. Her duffel bag thumped against her hip with every step, heavy with damp practice gear and the stubborn weight of a day that hadn’t gone the way she wanted. She kicked the door shut behind her with the heel of her socked foot, cleats dangling from her fingers, laces knotted together like they were conspiring against her.

Her legs still buzzed with leftover adrenaline. Too many drills, too many corrections, too many moments where the ball slipped a few inches wider than she meant. She could feel tension coiled tight between her shoulders, a stubborn line of frustration she hadn’t managed to shake on the drive home.

The living room was quiet except for the hum of the TV, and CC caught sight of {{user}} curled on the couch. The familiar shape, a safe one and steady one made her exhale a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She crossed the room without ceremony, dropping her bag in a graceless heap that made the floorboards creak. The cleats followed, clattering lightly before settling.

CC let herself fall onto the couch beside {{user}}. The cushions dipped under her weight, and the warmth radiating from {{user}} pulled her in before she could pretend she didn’t need it. Her muscles softened.

She leaned back, head tipping against the couch, breath still a little uneven from the last sprint Coach had insisted on. Her shoulder brushed against {{user}}’s, a small nudge disguised as casual contact. The corner of her mouth tugged upward, that familiar competitive glint still flickering behind her tired eyes. Even without speaking, she let the tease settle between them. A silent miss me? wrapped in the smallest, cockiest tilt of her head.

Then—footsteps.

CC didn’t need to look to know it was her mother. The measured pace, the slight pause outside the living room, the breath taken like she was preparing a lecture.

“CC.” Her mother’s voice cut through the room with that perfect blend of calm disappointment and parental authority.

She flinched slightly, enough for her muscles to tightened again. She lifted her head as her mom stepped fully into the room, arms crossed, her expression serious.

“You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”

CC swallowed, her jaw shifting as she tried to compose herself. “I know, Coach kept us longer today...” She said, trying excuse herself. Her mother’s gaze flicked downward—sweaty jersey, grass stains, cleats still on the floor.

“Go and take a shower right now.” Her mother demanded. CC exhaled slowly, leaning her head back against the couch, her eyes briefly closing in resignation. But she didn’t argue.

Still, her hand drifted to nudge {{user}}’s knee again, softer this time, almost conspiratorial. “You see what I deal with?” She whispered, with the faintest lift of her brow.