An End To The Distance Read online

  “You are.”

  Jasmine turned around to grab her box of tea out of the cabinet when Tegan quickly grabbed the box out of Jasmine’s hand. Tegan stepped backwards as Jasmine began reaching for the box of tea.

  Jasmine laughed, running a hand through her hair.

  “Oh my god, Teegs just give me my tea!”

  Tegan held hope’s spice up to her face and grinned.

  “No. We are making hot cocoa. You’re gonna love it. Allow your taste buds to take a break from those infused leaves.”

  Jasmine paused and smirked, rolling her eyes at the fact that she even considered thinking about it.

  “Fine! Fine. You have to clean up the kitchen, though.”

  “Deal."

  Tegan grinned before grabbing the milk out of the refrigerator and a pouring it into the bowl. Jasmine stood behind her, watching.

  “We have to add about a half a cup of water so the milk doesn’t scorch."

  Jasmine nodded in agreement, and watched in amazement how comfortable Tegan was in the kitchen.

  “Most people skip salt because they think it’s like disgusting but really, the salt is what makes it tastes sweeter and makes the chocolate taste richer. So I’m just gonna add about 1/8 of—Jasmine are you listening? You need to know this stuff.”

  Jasmine nodded and hummed quietly in response. Tegan noticed that she only had Jasmine’s divided attention but she continues.

  “Damn, I’m guessing you don’t have any espresso in here. You know your tea is becoming a bad habit. I think it’s about time you convert to coffee."

  Tegan was in the middle of pouring the cocoa in the pan when she felt her shoulders being cupped and her neck being kissed. She jumped, spilling the cocoa, feeling Jasmine’s pelvis press firmly against her rear and her breast touching her back.

  “I’m gonna try this again,”

  Tegan’s breath hitched as she felt Jasmine’s hot breath in her ear. Jasmine slowly turned Tegan around, facing her. For a second, Tegan is entirely speechless; all the moisture in her mouth relocating somewhere else. The hunger in Jasmine’s eyes was so intense, it captivated Tegan making her not want to blink.

  “Don’t run this time."

  TWENTY FIVE

  “FUCK!”

  Kat gave a piercing cry into the ground. She rolled onto her back, automatically taking pressure off of her ankle. She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip in attempt to hush her scream. Hot tears spilled from her eyes and trembling fingers reached down to her ankle to alleviate the throbbing ache in her left foot.

  “You’re okay, look at me.”

  Kat immediately opened her eyes to Peyton’s soothing voice before shutting them again, wincing in pain.

  “Peyt?…Peyton it hurts!”

  Peyton knelt down in front of Kat’s head and stroked her forehead.

  “I know, just hang in there.”

  Kat closed her eyes shut again as she heard more footsteps approach. Peyton whispered Kat to breathe, again and again until her breaths were calm and her crying ceased. Peyton was soon circled around the entire Finnish team as well as two guards who weren’t as appreciative of her presence as Kat was.

  They started shouting frantically at her and using wild gestures. Peyton rose to her feet with furrowed brows trying to decipher what Finnish they were speaking.

  A tall woman from Kat’s team stepped in, and the guards backed away, letting the trainers through the ring enclosed around Kat. Peyton looked to the woman who had probably just saved her from getting arrested, but before she could question who she was, Kat’s Finnish cry stopped her. The trainers immediately picked her up and carried her off into the locker room. There was a slow clap for Kat that echoed throughout the stadium. Peyton dusted the pebbles of turf off of her hands before shoving them in her coat pockets and making her way off of the court.

  “Peyton, right?”

  Peyton turned around and was faced with the taller woman who had saved her ass before.

  “Uh, yeah. Do I—how do you know me?”

  “Kat is my best friend. Your name is practically holy around here.”

  Francesca looked at the clock and saw that the game had ten minutes remaining.

  “You should probably get off of the court. We already have a sub for Kat.”

  Francesca gave Peyton a warm smile just in case her tone reflected something a little bit colder. Peyton smiled thinly, looking back at all the cameras that were pointed at her.

  “Right. Well thanks.”

  Peyton shoved her hands back in her pocket and walked back to the stairs where her family was sitting.

  “Is she okay? How did you manage to get on the court?”

  Peyton’s family asked all at once. She immediately locked eyes with Rhian and her sister’s last words suddenly registered in Peyton’s head.

  “Um, yeah—I mean, I don’t know. It was her ankle.”

  “Yeah we saw. Number twelve. What a bitch.”

  Peyton slowly sat down next to Rhian and glued her eyes to the game, praying her sister would save their conversation for a later date. Rhian eased back into her seat after glaring at Peyton, deciding she should discuss her new discovered information about her sister in private.

  “SON of a bitch!”

  Kat huffed, slamming her hand against her locker. Her team had won the game, and were back in the locker room with Kat. Some of them couldn’t understand what she was saying but they could tell by her rage that she was livid.

  “Hey, it’s a sprain.”

  Francesca said as she stood next to Kat at her locker, removing her jersey. Kat clenched her jaw and looked up at the taller woman in disgust.

  “That’s not what I’m upset about.”

  Francesca removed the rest of her clothes and wrapped herself in a towel, preparing to head for the showers.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Nevermind.”

  Kat grabbed her crutches and hopped out of the locker room, heading to the bus early, deciding to skip the immediate press conference. The staff and trainers carried her belongings and quietly followed behind Kat, careful not to upset the young forward anymore. Kat watched as all of the fans exited the stadium and pressed her forehead against the window in search for Peyton through the large span of people. When her teammates finally loaded on the bus, Kat gave up her search. Francesca stepped on the bus after a few of her teammates and contemplated giving Kat her space when she saw her lips in the form of a pout and her forehead pressed against the frigid window. They were bus mates. They always sat together. Francesca quickly scanned the bus for open seats but everyone had their seats, even the newbies. She decided she would tread with caution. She stopped at her and Kat’s seat and stood on the tips of her toes to place her gym bag above the seat before plopping down in her chair followed by a heavy sigh.

  “Terrible win. Fucking hate UST.”

  Kat slightly nodded in agreement refusing to make eye contact with the older forward. Francesca watched as Kat remained silent as the bus took off. She twiddled her fingers, thinking of a way she could soothe the younger forward.

  “She’s gorgeous.”

  Kat turned to face Francesca with a puzzled look.

  “Peyton?”

  “You two make a striking couple.”

  Kat broke contact with her teammate and smiled to herself before whispering,

  “You think?”

  “Of course. She clearly cares for you. I saw that today.”

  “I care for a lot of people who I don’t love. It was probably her Christian duty or something.”

  Kat scoffed.

  “Hey, don’t be like that.”

  Kat settled back in her seat pressing her back against the cold leather as the bus took off and allowed the silence to apologize for her derisive outburst. Her gaze found outside of the window again. This time, she wasn’t looking for Peyton, but rather a sensible reason as to why she would bother to show up if she held so much apathy towards her.


  “PEYTON, we need to talk!”

  Rhian yelled just as the elevator doors closed on her. She rolled her eyes at her younger sister’s infantile tactics to avoid any conversation with her. First, she ditched her at the mall, took the tram instead and now this; speed walking through the hotel just to prevent the close proximity. Rhian sighed and made way for the stairs. She ran up six flights before getting winded and began to think things over. There was no way in hell she was running up thirty-two flights of stairs. She had already been chasing her sister halfway around town. With a sweep of the forehead and the yell of an expletive, Rhian walked her way to the sixth floor’s elevator and took a breather as the machine rode upwards. When the doors parted, she slowly walked towards Peyton’s room, gathering her thoughts. Not in a million years would she ever thought she would have to discuss such a matter with her baby sister, but the time had come and Rhian just prayed that God would give her the right words to say. With the click of the locks being pulled back, Peyton opened her door and glanced at her sister. The perspiration on the sides of her cheek and in the crevices of her breast told Peyton that she must’ve taken a great deal of effort to find her.

  “Sorry you took the stairs.”

  “Oh I didn’t,”

  Rhian breathed in heavily as she walked past Peyton inside the hotel room and took a seat on her bed.

  “Only six….six too many but—that’s neither here or there.”

  Rhian paused.

  “Peyt, I want to talk to you about Kat…you and Kat in particular.”

  Rhian rubbed her thumbs across her palms.

  “Just what exactly is going on?”

  Peyton stood in the center of her room and focused her sight on the ornamental plaster ceiling. Strong, hot of tears threatened to pour out of her eyes at any moment, so her eyes rolled upwards as far as they could in hopes that the tears would stay put. Peyton never answered and a long silence began to grow with each second passing. Rhian sat patiently with her hands resting in her lap and a encouraging smile on her lips. Peyton adjusted her hat, stuck her hands in her jean pockets, and popped back and forth on her heels before finally making contact with her older sister. Her eyes were glazed and of a dark hue. Warm tears spilled and rolled down her cheeks, Peyton angrily swiping them away before they could reach her chin.

  “If you already know then why do I have to say it?”

  “Because!”

  Rhian stood up.

  “You have bottled this secret inside of you your entire life and look what it has done! You have so much anger in you.”

  Peyton’s shoulders shook as she cupped her face to hide herself from crying. Rhian immediately hugged her sister and walked with her back to her bed. They sat down together and Peyton buried her head into her sister’s lap, stating her jeans with wet tears. Rhian kissed the top of her sister’s head and rubbed circles into her back as she listened to her constant sniffling and soft moans. They stayed like that for a while before getting into a comfortable position of laying horizontally with Peyton resting on Rhian’s chest. Rhian played with Peyton’s hair and waited for her sharp sniffs to stop.

  “You know our Lord and Savior makes no mistakes.”

  Peyton wiped her damp eyes and looked up at her sister.

  “Then what am I?”

  “You aren’t a mistake.”

  TWENTY SIX

  JASMINE slept like she did everything else, neatly and precise. She was on her side. Her hands were clasped in a prayer position, tucked underneath her pillow. Tegan refrained from touching her smooth skin. She loved the way it lacked all her scorn that typified her demeanor and contorted her features into a mask of derision and anger. Tegan wondered if she knew how beautiful she was when the world wasn’t weighed on her shoulders and she wasn’t fighting every emotion that consumed her. With closed eyes, Tegan rested her head on Jasmine’s chest, listening to her rhythmic heartbeat. She knew just how beautiful she was, but she wasn’t sure Jasmine did.

  THE sun was harsh to Jasmine’s soft blue eyes. She shunned her face away and buried herself back into her pillow. It was the first time she had seen the sun in days. It had been murky skies and quietude before, but now the rays crystallized the snow and outside had awaken. Tegan, however, had not. Her hands were clasped in a prayer position, pressed softly against her lips. Her breathing patterned the ceiling fan that twirled lightly above her. Her eyebrows would furrow whenever she exhaled and Jasmine watched quietly, wondering what dream caused such expression. When the sun scanned her freckled face, Tegan licked her bruised and chapped lips before flexing her muscles underneath Jasmine's hold. She conformed into Jasmine's chest as Jasmine pressed her soft lips against the blade of her back. The slightest touch caused the younger woman to moan before opening her eyes. Certain parts of her body tingled, reliving Jasmine's touch.

  “YOUR breathing is rapid. Do we need to stop?”

  “Jasmine…”

  Tegan’s breath hitches as Jasmine bites the waistline of her underwear with her teeth and drags her poor excuse of panties down to her ankles. Her eyes roll up to meet Tegan’s. They were closed. Squinted. Her knuckles turn white as she clenches the marble counter for support. The bowl of cocoa had been knocked over, there were crushed tea bags sprinkled everywhere and Jasmine was pretty sure some form of glass, (her guess was the milk) had fell and cracked when she abruptly pushed Tegan onto the countertop. The thoughtful pause in Jasmine’s oral torture made Tegan whine something that almost sounded like Jasmine’s name, harsh in a low, raspy voice. Jasmine grinned and continued. Tegan finally opened her eyes to look down at Jasmine who flashed a sloe-eyed look up at her. Jasmine replaced her mouth with her left hand before standing up to lock eyes with Tegan. Tegan bites her lip and presses her thighs together to stop her legs from quivering. She cries in pure ecstasy and Jasmine can’t turn away.

  “Good morning.”

  Tegan smirked into Jasmine’s forearm.

  “Morning.”

  “Hungry?”

  Tegan could barely open her eyes, so she slightly brushed her forehead up against Jasmine’s arm to show she was nodding. Jasmine smiled before pulling herself from Tegan’s grip and carefully walking to the kitchen. She rubbed her eyes and traced the kitchen floor for shards of glass. The milk had partially dried while some was still wet, soaked with the cocoa. Jasmine tied her hair into a bun before kneeling down with her dustpan and sweeping. The kitchen was a mess but somehow it only caused Jasmine’s smile to expand. Her eyes traced the kitchen back and forth remembering what she did to Tegan to cause each and every shatter of glass. Tegan soon interrupted her salacious thoughts when she entered into the kitchen. Jasmine’s sweatpants hung loosely off of her hips covering her bare feet and a purple Husky sweatshirt that ran past her fingertips.

  “Careful!”

  Jasmine yelled. Tegan’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, I’m up. Thanks.”

  “Sorry,”

  Jasmine spoke, her tone a little less alarming.

  “there’s glass on the floor.”

  “Oh.”

  Tegan walked to the living room and sat with her legs folded. She closed her eyes and her mind immediately thought of last night. Tegan smirked to herself before turning around to look at Jasmine. She could see faint scratches on her neck and she was positive there were some on her back as well. Tegan blushed and reminded herself to ask Jasmine for nail clippers later. For now she would take in the sight of her lover. The way her bun sat messily on the top of her head with most of the hair falling out. How her jaws were set even harder than normal because she knew Tegan was watching and Tegan loved every second of it. Jasmine finally rose to her feet and dumped the pieces of glass in the trash can.

  “Is it safe to enter, my Lord?”

  Jasmine brushed a strand of hair out of her face and smirked.

  “Yes.”

  Jasmine dusted her hands of any remains before turning to the kitchen sink and washing her hands. Tegan sat on one of the bar st
ools and spun herself around.

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “I’m thinking French Toast. And some hot cocoa…if there’s, you know, some left.”

  Jasmine flashed a white grin down at Tegan before closing the small gap between them. Tegan's breath hitched once again at the close proximity.

  “French toast? Seriously.”

  “Are you not hungry?"

  Tegan stuttered, forcing herself to look Jasmine in the eyes.

  Jasmine looked up at Tegan, batting her eyelashes as she intertwined her hands with Tegan’s.

  “I am. Just not for food.”

  TWENTY SEVEN

  PEYTON took an early flight back out a few days shy of winter break ending. Her red wrangler sat in the almost vacant parking lot of the campus apartment. She swung her keys around her left index finger as she walked up to the third floor to grab her belongings. The apartment looked untouched, almost exactly the way she left it before she flew to Jersey for the holidays. There was no sign of Tegan---or Jasmine for that matter, so Peyton figured they were still rustling through the sheets in Canada. She stuffed some overly sized shirts, shorts, and sweats in her backpack, some food for the drive and her auxiliary cord before heading down I-580 towards San Clemente. The roughly seven-hour drive consisted of the sounds of electronic chillwave music playing softly in and out of the windows and the occasional flap of her doughnut tire that her mom told her to replace last summer. Using her left hand to steer, Peyton had her right thumb in her mouth, tearing off the nail as she sorted her thoughts. Her family didn’t freak about the news that Rhian ever so awkwardly forced Peyton to tell. They were accepting of it which freaked her out. She expected at least a few expletives and bibles thrown at her before them ushering her out of their lives. Instead she got tearful smiles and lengthy exhales. She had already had her flight booked back to school, but departed from her family without the usual goodbye. Now she was headed to the most hated place on the left coast to clear her head. Arriving a little after noon Peyton strapped her backpack on both of her shoulders and carried her surfboard over her head as she walked down the steps of T-Street beach. It was a long walk and while her surfboard was light, her arms began to burn with the distance. She preferred the south of the beach because everyone was too lazy to walk it, so it was always really mellow there. It was fifty degrees, but the waves and lack of sun made it feel closer to forty. Peyton rested her stomach on her board and dipped her head underneath the nippy waves, as if the salt water would cleanse her thoughts rather than her wounds. She had lost the energy to surf, not that she initially planned to. The waves were shit and she was a little bit jet lagged anyway. She came here because the ocean was the only place that made her sane again. The water filled her ears each time the tide brought her a little underway and Peyton closed her eyes to enjoy the sound. In these moments, she forgot who she was and had adopted the life of some species that rested in the bottom of the sea. She was mildly aware that a shark could mistake her for a turtle at any given moment, or a large wave would sneak up on her and press her underwater for longer than she could hold her breath, but despite those deathly and very likely scenarios, she felt at peace. There were no thoughts of school, handball, Kat, sexuality, life. It was just her and the vast Pacific.