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Carson’s mind is all a jumble.
Between Greta (and Carson’s steadily increasing obsession with her) and meeting their new and shockingly incompetent coach, there’s no room to sort thoughts out or attempt to understand what’s happening to her. Everything in her life at the moment is a whirlwind of not knowing then being suddenly thrust into things full throttle. She’s got whiplash from being star struck yet immediately disappointed all at once. Carson used to have big stars in her eyes where Dove was concerned – now, she’s disenchanted and thoroughly convinced that the man is a class A asshole.
That greatness is topped off by a call from her sister. Carson has never gotten along with the elusive elder sibling but Meg’s judgement down the line is tangible, making Carson want to hit something. She’s finally happy, for the first time in her entire life. It’s naïve to think that anyone would be glad for her but she hoped, anyway. The plainness of the situation is a slap in the face that douses the fire in Carson even further. Throw in Greta’s incessant need to put ideas in her head, Carson is just as lost as when she climbed off the train. Though she’s exactly where she needs to be, it’s hard to navigate all the unexpected twists and turns.
She tries to focus on the whole reason she’s there, pushing Greta and their kiss and the heat in her core that Carson gets every time the other woman is so much as near her down and away and out of her mind. The catastrophe of the league’s expectations takes away some of the haze, so that works in her favor. She recognizes what being hidden behind a mask looks like and decides it’s silly. They’re women who play baseball. They’re meant to get dirty and give off the impression that work is being done. Baseball is a messy game – red lipstick and hairstyles the hats they wear are immediately going to ruin won’t change that. It doesn’t really register what the underlying reason is until Greta not so subtly lays it out for her. Carson is suddenly too struck to do anything other than gasp and step up for Jess when the axe looked like it may come down on her neck.
Regardless of the effort Carson puts in, though, Greta is still a solid presence that’s always there. The worst part of the matter is, Carson likes that. She’s glad to see dark auburn hair and lips that tug up into mischievous smirks and smiles. It’s a comfort to know that nothing gets the beauty down or if it does, she’s classy enough to take care of her own. That’s why the first game they play is so frustrating. The cat calls from the stands are hard to swallow and even harder to ignore. When Greta snaps, Carson is taken aback – both because the move is unexpected and because a surge of want rips right through her. The thought of being only friends is taken apart some more. It’s unraveling faster than Carson can keep up with.
Her heart hurts a little watching Greta’s face fall – after all is said and done, nothing any of them do will be right. They’ll always be too much because they’re women and that’s how the world sees them no matter what they’re doing. It’s further driven home when Carson watches Dove dish out an autograph to the asshole in the stands. The well in her stomach that’s been filled with scorching heat opens up and is empty for the first time since stepping foot in Rockford. She’s defeated when she finds Greta in the locker room. Though, Carson bucks up immediately when she notices how rundown the usual brick wall of a woman actually is. Her makeup is not pristine for the first time since Carson’s met her. It’s easy to see that the world won today and Greta is struggling to make amends with that harsh truth. Carson does her best to cheer her up but they’re both struggling. Simply being in Great’s presence is surprisingly enough, anyway. So is the way Greta brushes away a tear that Carson wasn’t even aware she was crying – but that’s not important.
What ends up being is how much of an idiot Carson actually is.
It doesn’t take her long to understand that truth as she mumbles her way through some lame excuse about being just friends with Greta. Greta who has lit her entire world on fire and changed the face of it. As if they could ever be just friends. Carson wants to snatch each word back out of the air once she’s said them, but that’s impossible. Greta’s face goes through a myriad of emotions that Carson has no earthly idea how to process, let alone read. She feels stupid looking at a person she already cares about so much, and aching – aching because Carson is too weak to cling to the otherness and see where it takes her. She’s cutting off a limb before even learning how to walk with it.
In her defense, the dream she’s still rabidly thinking about threw her for a loop. The fact that Charlie was there wasn’t nearly as distracting as Greta’s dominating presence. Her skin on fire from the sight and stimulus and experience is still a vivid feeling she so desperately wants to return to. She woke up that morning drenched in sweat and slick and disappointment in the fact that her eyes opened and the good time had to end. The rush of hormones and desire is something that Carson isn’t used to, so she’s behaving a little rash. It’s like being the sort of teenager her friends were. The understanding is starting to sink in and all that thoughtlessness makes so much more sense. Though she’s aware of the disconnect, Carson can’t stop herself from being stupid.
The shame that burns through her is in the driver’s seat, steering Carson’s way through a mistake that both women are aware that she’s making. Carson can’t help it, though. If Shirley wasn’t there to shake her awake, Carson’s afraid that whatever came next just might’ve killed her. Her cheeks are still stained red from the hasty way she slipped her hand between her thighs the second she got privacy. Carson recalls the delicious drag of her fingertips across her clit as her mind fixated on Greta’s red lips. She’s imagining them on her neck when an orgasm overtakes her out of nowhere. Carson barely manages to bite down on her tongue – she’s scared to admit that Great’s name would’ve fallen from her lips.
Carson is unsure if the shame is worse than the tension that suddenly bubbles up between them. It’s tangible in every aspect of the lives they share. On the field, in the house, in the dugout where Carson is surprised the team hasn’t told them to cut the shit. It’s heavy and makes the fact that Dove doesn’t coach them even harder to accept. She’s desperate and strung out, so Carson makes another rash decision. The pie is terrible and completely inedible, but it’s a bust, anyway. Dove is a dick that doesn’t give two shits about them. Carson is slowly coming to understand that her and her teammates are the only ones that truly care about what happens to the team. Luckily, Carson gets an idea from that thought. The girls are willing to do anything to get better. Spearheading an extra practice or two is the least Carson can do.
They thankfully improve. It’s a satisfying thing to watch the extra hours spent in some distant field actually start to work for them. The spirit within the team amps up and Carson feels the passion starting to collect between them. She’s never been a part of a team where the camaraderie is so real but she’s glad to be a small piece of the chain. Fun isn’t something she ever imagined her life being yet it’s happening and Carson has no idea what to do with it. Never mind the fact that being Greta’s friend means getting to know her more and that lights Carson’s entire body on fire. Every new thing she gathers, Carson likes. It completes a picture of a woman who is talented and beautiful on both the inside and outside. Carson hasn’t ever wanted to dive into someone else’s nooks and crannies but Greta makes her burn to ask questions and tell stories, to share and let someone get to know her back.
Carson’s resolve is crumbling so fast where the line of friendship is concerned. Every look, every word, every second orbiting around each other feels like a prelude to something more. It’s so important that it’s keeping Carson scared. That’s why she’s trying so hard to wring out the farce of propriety in order to protect her fickle heart. Now that’s it beating and drumming and thumping with life, Carson’s afraid to put it out on the line. Except it gets harder by the minute. Greta is like a magnet that Carson is drawn to. No matter what, they’re surrounded by each other. It's natural and seemingly impossible to push back against. The night they lay on the grass and look up to the stars, Carson knows she’s completely screwed. Though Jo’s timing is perfect, Carson can’t help but be disappointed. Despite setting down the gauntlet of friendship, she wants more so badly it hurts.
Their first win is like a piece of hot apple pie with ice cream on top. Dove looks dumbfounded and lost for a second before doing the man thing and taking credit for it all. It’s enough, however, for Carson to know that they did well – if the man is chomping at the bit to shoulder the blame for their good playing, it must’ve been halfway decent. Carson forgets for a second that she’s trying to be strong. She celebrates and drinks and lets Greta get close again. It’s mean to them both, yanking her dream woman near only to pull down the lever on a steel trap that’s doing more harm than good. Carson hates herself for making Greta’s shoulders slump. The hurt she feels radiating from her so-called friend is worse than anything else. The question as to why she keeps doing it is something Carson just can’t answer. She hasn’t found a way to let go and just be happy. Life’s never given her the opportunity to do so before.
Which makes the date she’s forced to go on with Greta absolutely miserable. Carson knows the red head is being mean and hurtful with a purpose. Her eyes don’t leave Carson very often. If the man sitting across from her was smart, he’d open his gaze and see what’s before him. Too bad Greta is extremely good at blinding a person. Her looks and charming personality are enough to break any strong individual. Carson feels that to her core as she gets up and flees from the table. Greta’s “I’ve never met anyone like you line” felt so special and now it’s ruined. Her skin crawls at the thought that some animal doctor thinks he’s special enough to deserve attention from a woman so far out of his league. Carson’s anger makes the confrontation with Greta into an unintentional spillage of feelings she’s not ready to deal with yet. The yo-yo is killing them both but Carson doesn’t know what else to do.
It all gets a little worse when Lupe stabs her in the back and rats her out to Dove. Not only are their secret practices over but Carson’s on the bench and their pitcher is making a fool out of herself. Carson can’t help the cringe of jaw as Dove finally does the team a mercy and pulls Lupe. He doesn’t even look at her as she comes crying off the field and though Carson isn’t her biggest fan, she’s not going to stand for bull shit like that. She can’t take control of the personal part of her life right now but she’s going to make Dove see. Throwing a baseball at his head isn’t Carson’s finest hour, she knows that. Still, she hopes the dent in his car and the words she spat at him are enough to make the pigheaded man realize the girls he should be there for are in it whether he is or not.
There’s something about a call from Charlie and the exhilaration of coming to a life-changing decision. Carson revels in it all the way up the stairs into Greta’s room until she realizes that Jess is there, looking at her expectantly. She can’t come up with a good enough excuse so she mumbles something and looks desperately at Greta because it’s urgent and thought controlling and too hard to think past. Luckily, Jess doesn’t give a shit and Greta is charming enough to get out of the room and out of the house into Carson’s waiting arms. Carson is dragging her along without hesitation or worry that Greta’s going to follow. It’s presumptuous after being such a dick about giving into their desires but Greta doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge. At least she’s quick on her feet and more than able to follow Carson out to the garage where there’s a shred of privacy and a hard wall to back the tall woman up into.
Greta looks shocked all of two seconds before her eyes close and their kissing each other. It’s desperate, Carson doesn’t even have to guess that because it’s how she feels. Her skin tingles and pebbles with goosebumps as Greta’s hands grip the sides of her head and deepen the kiss. Carson’s hands naturally drop to Greta’s waist. She squeezes there because she’s so happy to finally be near to Greta like this again that the touch is grounding. The surreal nature of perfume that makes her salivate and that recognizable lipstick brings all the thoughts and feelings she’s been trying to push away roaring back to the surface. Fuck all of the things holding her back. The season is short and time goes by so fast that hesitating and pretending and pushing against something that’s inevitable just doesn’t make any sense. Not when Greta’s little moan of enjoyment as their tongues tangle together becomes a soundtrack Carson is never going to turn off.
It's too easy to get lost in Greta. After spending mornings trying not to let her mind or hand stray, Carson finally feels free. Her limbs and joints are loose now that they don’t have to lock up to stop from reaching out to touch. Being so near to Greta without putting a hand on her arm or touching the softness of her hair is a torture that Carson doesn’t need to partake in, not when she’s already blowing her life to bits to make her dream come true. And though Carson didn’t know it at the time, she’s slowly starting to believe that Greta and the relationship they’re going to develop were part of that aching desire all along. Now that her eyes are open, Carson can’t force them closed again. It’s now obvious that she doesn’t want to, either.
She’s never been much of a fan of kissing but Carson quickly amends that statement – she’s not into kissing anyone but Greta. Her lips are soft and full and talented. Charlie always pecked at her like a chicken. Not Greta, though – Greta uses her lips to cast spells and make magic. They seem to know exactly where to push and press to systematically pull Carson to her knees. Greta nibbles on her bottom lip and soothes it with her tongue before bringing Carson back in for a long kiss that makes the abused skin numb and deliciously tingly. Carson’s never been so into a kiss that she forgets herself the way she is now. The fact that they’re in a garage in the middle of the night doesn’t register. There’s only Greta and body heat and kisses that feel like sips and gulps where Carson greedily gets to take in every drop the other woman has to offer.
It’s like coming home after so many years of not really knowing what that word actually meant. Carson knows it’s too much to put on one person, that’s why she tried so hard to create some distance between them. The truth of the matter is, Carson feels so much like herself when Greta is near. She’s not sure if it’s because Greta is a one way ticket to her mind and body’s real desire or if it’s because Greta is just that great of a person. In a lot of ways, Carson thinks it’s both, like it can’t really be one without the other. It’s hard to know, anyway – the attraction that Carson feels has been alive and well since their eyes first met.
Carson’s well aware of the fact that making out isn’t enough to solve the problem of communication that already exists between them but it’s a damn good time all the same. She doesn’t let Greta break away for air all the much – now that Carson is allowing herself to truly take it all in, she wants to gorge herself. It’s important to remember the brush and drag of Greta’s tongue along her own. Greta’s breath hitches when Carson is bold and takes control of the kiss. There’s a realization through the haze that Greta’s hands are antsy and always moving, up Carson’s back, into her hair, along her sides, even across her chest. Greta likes Carson’s boobs, too. They’re groped and cupped with fondness. It makes Carson happy for her femininity for the first time in her life. She loves that Greta is a woman through and through. Soft skin and fresh hair and curves for days – Carson decides then and there that womanhood isn’t always the curse she’s believed it was. How could it be when Greta wields it with such flawlessness?
Eventually, the need to break apart arrives. It’s dark all around them and Carson’s sure curfew has long come and past. It’s already too much that Jess got to see Carson make an absolute fool of herself. Dragging Greta in behind her too late into the night is a big flashing light above their heads. No matter how much Carson wants to cling and kiss and keep Greta with her, she knows following the rules is important. Though she doesn’t know safety is the reason for that yet, Carson understands the sentiment nonetheless. She is reluctant to pull away, even steals a couple more kisses before extracting herself from Greta completely.
The sight before her is almost enough to drag Carson back in, restrictions and consequences be damned. Greta’s eyes are wide and she looks shaken up. It’s a pleasant grin that quirks her red lips. Blissed out and happy is exactly the way Carson would describe her. Without needing to see her reflection, Carson knows her face looks the same. Exhilaration and hormones are a heady cocktail that make it hard to be anything other than happy. Carson has the added bonus of embracing more of herself with each passing second. Her skin doesn’t feel foreign now. It fits and Carson looks better in it than ever.
Days following that night are a wild mix of playing good baseball and stealing moments alone with Greta. Much like the need to play above the usual standard, spending time with Greta becomes an obsession. Carson can’t keep her hands off the woman who lights her up. It feels as if there’s something in her body that’s now online after being dormant for so many years. Fire and raw passion creep out and take ahold of her. Carson can see it coming out of her on the field just as much as in her pursuit to always being touching Greta’s amazing body. Sharing time on the field both during practice and throughout the game is the ultimate tease. Despite the stupidity of the outfits, Carson is unable to say that Greta doesn’t look good in their uniform. Her long legs are made longer by the socks and short skirt. She’s lucky the catcher’s mask obstructs her view during the pitch or else Carson would be in a lot of trouble.
Finding success in both things that Carson craves is intoxicating. It feeds a hunger inside of her that Carson kept under wraps in her attempt to fit in. She’s never given herself over to the easy thought of just letting go and shooting her shot. The exhilarating feeling is something she already knows she’s not going to want to give up. Carson can’t quite remember what she wrote in that letter with Greta their first night in Rockford, but she hopes it’s enough to convince Charlie of her unhappiness. There’s no turning back now, Carson can’t ignore the truth of that. Not when her reality is a tall redhead that wants her just as much as Carson so desperately does.
The only thing she doesn’t account for is the frustration. Though they’re always pawing at each other, Greta has a low startle point and there’s only so many excuses they can make to disappear with each other. Each place they settle into seems to be dangerous in some way. Carson is so pent up with want that she’s grumpy and obvious about the lust that’s consuming her. It’s made better by the way Greta says “I like to watch you” like that won’t be the star of Carson’s masturbation fantasies the minute she gets a second. Though it’s not quite what she’s looking for, Carson can’t deny that the picture of Greta saying that from the vee of her legs is more than enough to make her heart race and thighs clench.
Carson’s reckless in the fact that the entirety of the house isn’t quiet as she sits in the small confines of the stall and gets a hand down her pants. The experience of exploring herself in relief when their make out sessions get interrupted or Greta’s more unthinkably sexy than she is by default has been eye opening. Carson’s sure that being with Greta is going to be the greatest thing in the world.
It's with that thought that Carson closes her eyes and lets her mind go. Her fingers immediately drift to her clit, slipping up through wetness that makes the motion of her fingertips easy and delicious. The entirety of her body throbs as pleasure already starts to spike. It’s hard to ignore the want that’s been building up for days. Carson’s felt Greta’s lips on her skin enough to imagine the sensation perfectly. Her free hand fists in her own hair to mock the way Greta grabbed a hold and used the grip to tilt and shift Carson’s head the exact way she wanted it. Eager fingers tighten at the thought. After a second of remembering the way Greta’s fingers fondly trace down her face, Carson has no problems replacing the reality of her own fingers against her clit with the ghost of Greta’s. All of her aches to feel the real thing but for now, the imago of it will do.
She makes quick work of finding a rhythm that’s just right and puts effort into not moaning with every glorious press of her fingertips. Carson has stopped feeling shame for giving into her body’s desires. She’s far from a virgin and the thought of something so silly has made it easier to swallow the wave of lust that seems to always be following her. With Greta Gill always around, Carson is lucky to be functioning without being in Greta’s lap at all times. The redhead is a cool drink of water, want and desire personified on creamy white legs. Carson sucks her bottom lip into her mouth to stifle the groan that comes with that thought. She’s been dreaming about the moment where her lips travel up those legs. The desire to trace every scar, freckle, and mark grows stronger by the day.
Impatience and the rush of getting caught make Carson pick up the pace. The perpetual tease has her on edge and it seems like a silly thing to continue the trend. Her mind drifts to a couple of days ago when they fumbled and pushed each other up against things in the crowded garage space. Greta’s giggles were a new flavor in their kisses and Carson loved the way they sounded in her ears. When she’s not with the other woman, Carson brings up that sound and lets it play in the back of her mind. She’s so fond of Greta its indescribable. It’s the affectionate feeling of Great’s breath against her lips that sends Carson over the edge.
Tossing her head back, Carson lets out a couple of huffed breaths as her orgasm rushes from her core outwards. Her limbs get heavy and numb in the best of ways. There’s sweat on her forehead that’s so unlady like that the league would have a fit if they saw her huffing and puffing the way she was. It’s lucky then that she’s stuck in a bathroom stall instead of in Greta’s arms somewhere. She steels her resolve then to find a way to finally be with Greta. The looming road trip seems like something filled to the brim with possibilities. Maybe then she’ll know what it’s like to lie down and feel Greta’s body against hers from head to toe. Intimacy is what she’s craving and Carson is smart enough to make it work.
Let operation get Greta Gill alone commence.