pinky promise - jamie tartt

‟ JUST... DIFFERENT „

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

"Are you sure you want to go back to that job?"

"Kinda late now, since training for the season started three weeks ago."

"That's not an answer and you know it."

Tatum Greene scrunched up her face in annoyance, wondering how much trouble she would be in if she simply hung up the phone on her brother. It wasn't as if he could just show up at her house and demand a real answer in person; she had ensured that when she moved to England just over a year previously, while he remained back in New York.

"Tate."

"Chase." She countered in his same, scolding tone, as if they were children once more and their mother had seen them grab dessert before dinner. Deep down, she didn't blame her brother for all his worrying. Hell, she had given him good reason to fuss over her during last year. "Your mother hen-ing is not appreciated."

"Says you, the mother hen-iest mother hen of all the mother—"

"Chase," Tatum groaned, hating the way her lips curved into a smile at her brother's taunts. Despite the fact that she was twenty-three and her brother was a full five years older than her, their bickering emulated that from when they were young children.

"You know I'm just worried about you." Despite the teasing mere seconds previously, Chase's voice was soft, almost pleading. It made her head hurt and her heart ache.

"I know." Tate relented, curling in tight on herself from her spot on the couch in her shitty, drafty apartment. "But things will be different this year. Not only is there a new head coach, but Rebecca Welton now owns the club."

"That doesn't mean it's going to be any different."

Tate bit her lip, a horrible habit she had kept up from childhood, and remained silent. A long enough time passed without talking that Chase finally sighed, far more exasperated than any twenty-eight year old had the right to be.

"Fine. But if it's not different, and it gets as bad as last year, then I'm telling Mom."

Irrational fear spiked through Tate's heart, but she hummed her agreement.

"And speaking of Mom—"

"No," Tate interrupted, her spine straightening. "You only get to talk about one thing I don't want to talk about per phone call, and you've hit your limit already."

"Fine, but just know that she keeps asking me about you. Wondering why you're barely answering her texts."

For good reason.

"I thought Tommie was the one who played peacemaker." The jab felt like poison on her tongue, and instantly she wished to take it back. Tommie, her sister, younger by only a year, wasn't the one deserving of her anger. And Chase, her favorite person in the world, sure as hell didn't either. "Fuck, I—"

"I get it, Tate." Chase sighed, and though she could hear the true and honest understanding in his voice, exhaustion shone through. "I just thought I'd try."

Tatum let the silence between them stretch further, if only to let herself suffer in the oily guilt flooding through her body. She had gone to England to get away, to leave behind all the shitty feelings she kept bottled up for so long until—

But even moving to England, accepting the job at AFC Richmond, hadn't saved her from the shit hand life dealt her. Hence the call from her brother that did little but set her nerves rising.

"I'm gonna go, Chase. I have an early morning." Though it was true, Tate mostly just wanted to hang up the phone before she made herself feel anymore worse.

"Alright," The tenseness in his voice made her wince, but she ignored the aching feeling in her stomach. She could hear Ashley, Chase's long-term girlfriend, talking in the background, asking if everything was alright with her. "Love you, and good luck tomorrow."

"Love you too."

And then she hung up.

But the universe only gave her three minutes to wallow in self-pity before her phone began to ring.

Incoming FaceTime from: Sam Obisanya

Grinning as if she hadn't argued with her brother just moments previously, Tate answered the call.

"Hi, Sammy." She greeted her best friend, following Chase. "Why are you still awake?"

"Tate! Have you looked up our new coach?" Sam asked, smiling brightly. And though smiling brightly was the default setting for her friend, Tate couldn't help but attempt to match his energy.

"Some. Though it still seems like an... odd choice. Everything I've found about him coaching has been for American football." Tate explained as she shuffled her spot on her couch, relaxing much easier than she had while on the phone with her brother. She didn't want to bash the new coach before she met him, and Rebecca Welton had let her keep her job when she took ownership of the club, but what she knew about Ted Lasso wasn't promising.

"He seems nicer than George." Sam offered, and Tate snorted at the thought.

"If Ted Lasso can have a conversation with me without staring at my chest, then he's nicer than fucking George." Tate grinned, though the jab at the previous coach was not at all unfounded. Sam's face screwed up in disgust at the honest truth about George's behavior; it was a conversation the two friends had gone over many, many times. She had cheered when she learned that Rebecca had fired the creepy coach. "Lasso certainly seems like less of a PR disaster."

"That'll make your job easier, then." Sam agreed, shuffling around in what looked like his kitchen as he spoke. Tate nodded; running social media accounts for a football club with a coach as vile as George had been rough. A fair share of the replies to any of her tweets from the team's account had been valid accusations about the coach's obvious misogyny.

"Have you heard from all the boys about tomorrow?" While Chase had taunted her about being a mother hen earlier, it held some truth. She just so happened to have somehow found herself an entire football team to look after. And with the new head and assistant coach arriving at the club the next day, Tate wanted all the boys ready and on their best behavior.

A monumental task.

"Most," Sam nodded, propping up his phone against something in his kitchen while he pulled out ingredients to make a late-night sandwich. "Got nothing from Jamie, though. Not surprised. He's such a—"

"An arrogant ass, I know." Tate grinned, well aware of how Sam felt about Richmond's star player. "Be glad that it's not in your job requirement that you need to interview him for player profiles. I had to listen to him talk about himself for an hour straight."

"I am so sorry." Sam winced. Tate nodded, grin etched onto her face. If she were being honest, if Jamie Tartt had a molecule of self-awareness, half of the stuff he said or did would have been amusing. "Maybe this American coach will change things."

"This season will definitely be different."

"Good or bad?" He grinned, calling her out for her non-comital, media-trained, response. Shrugging one shoulder, she tried and failed to fight back a yawn.

"Just... different."

「☺ ☺ ☺ 」