21. Kelly

Kelly

T he crowd cheered as our team came out onto the floor, but it was nothing like the reception the French team got. Most of the stadium got to their feet as their home team waved like conquering heroes. We'd let them have their moment, then we planned to kick their asses.

Like us, the French girls were all consummate athletes. The only way they wanted to win was if they earned it. There was no question about it.

The first set went to the French, but we rallied for the second, then took the third. The fourth round would determine whether we won or if we were going to a fifth set. I really hoped there'd be no fifth set. Not just because I wanted the U.S. to win the gold medal, but also because after spending two solid days in a no-holds-barred sex fest with my roommate, I was freaking exhausted.

Other than reporting for our conditioning workout and grabbing food, we didn't leave our room for two solid days. We'd had so much sex in so many positions that every muscle in my body was sore.

It had never been like this for me. I'd never been able to lose myself in a person. I'd never finished having sex and immediately been planning the next round. But with Betsy, everything was different, probably because I'd fallen in love with her.

And that scared the shit out of me, because once these games were over, we only had a few days before we flew back to the States and returned to our real lives.

We were both carefully avoiding talking about that though. And why shouldn't we? We'd agreed to be friends with benefits while we were here, nothing more. What happened in Paris, stayed in Paris.

I groaned as Eve missed an easy shot, allowing France to pull ahead by one point. The coaches called a time out, and we all huddled.

"You need to focus," Coach Roberts told us firmly. "We are the underdogs here. No one thought we would beat Brazil, but we did. No one thinks we will beat France, but we will, if you focus, use your training, and work together. Now get out there and bring home the gold."

We rushed back to the court, fired up and ready to end this. We scored a point, tying the score at twenty-four all. After an extraordinarily long period with the ball in play, Betsy spiked the ball over the net, sending it sailing between one of the opponent's hands.

"Yeah!" I gave her a high five then leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "You've earned an orgasm for that one."

We rotated, and it was my friend Erika's turn to serve. If we scored on this play we would win. She executed a perfect top spin serve, sending the ball barreling over our heads and then dropping fast after it cleared the net. The players had moved back from the net, clearly expecting a different serve. Two people dove for the ball and the crowd held its breath, but it was too late. The ball hit the floor, and the buzzer sounded, signaling a victory for the U.S.

Our team erupted, jumping and screaming. Some girls were crying as we approached the French team to shake hands and offer congratulations. They were disappointed, but they knew they'd played a good game, and they would still get the silver medal for their country.

The celebration on the court lasted a few minutes, then continued in the locker room.

"I can't offer you champagne right now," one of the coaches announced. "But I will tonight. You're all invited to a celebration dinner. We'll have vans at the entrance at six o'clock. We hope you'll all be there."

Of course we'd all be there. Every single woman in the room had worked for years to get here, including the coaches. But first, I wanted to have a private celebration with my roommate. The instant we were released to go, we headed to our room and did just that.

"You two almost missed your ride," Coach said a few hours later.

We'd arrived at the gate to the athlete's village at a full run, having sprinted over from our building. Our private celebration had gone a little longer than we'd planned, and Betsy and I had to rush to clean up, put on clothes that were appropriate for a dinner in Paris, and make it to the vans.

"Sorry Coach, we were, uh, resting."

Betsy was a terrible liar.

"Uh huh," the coach smirked. "Get your asses in the van so we're not late for our reservations."

Someone had finagled us two large tables at a rooftop restaurant which had an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower and man of the other iconic landmarks of the City of Lights. We shared plate after plate of delicious French food while drinking delicious French wine.

"Are you staying in Paris for a few days Kelly?" Erika asked me across the table.

"Yeah, I don't head back until Sunday," I answered.

"Were you able to find a hotel?"

I shook my head. "I didn't even look. Since we can stay in athlete's housing until Sunday, I thought I'd take advantage of the free room."

"You're staying until Sunday?" Betsy confirmed.

"Yeah. When are you leaving?"

"My flight is tomorrow night, but I was thinking about rescheduling it," she said. "I thought we'd have more time to sightsee before now."

She hesitated. "I could…stay with you for a few more days."

I tried not to read too much into that. Or the slight hesitation, as if my answer meant a lot to her.

"You should totally do that," I agreed. "We can see the sights together."

Erika looked between us, her eyes narrowing. "You two seem cozy for two people who used to be sniping at each other all the time."

"Do we?" I shrugged. "I guess Betsy and I have become friends while we've been here."

"Let's drink to friends then," Erika said, holding up her wine glass. She was already pretty tipsy.

"To friends."