pinky promise - jamie tartt

‟ PUPPIES „

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"Alright, I'll go easy on you, babe, 'cause I don't want you to get hurt."

"How thoughtful," Tate grinned, her voice a tad teasing as she rolled the football slightly underneath the toe of her cleat. "What do I get if I score?"

"Winner picks dinner tonight," He remaindered her of the deal they had made. She wasn't sure exactly how the conversation started, but she was certain it involved Roy telling Jamie that Tate could definitely score a goal on him in a two-man game, which devolved into a childish argument until both men were in her office declaring that they go to the pitch and solve it once and for all.

Tate had groaned at the request and told them they were lucky she had her cleats and gym bag with her, just as excited as the rest of the team for Richmond's current winning streak.

"And I get to say I told you so." Roy called out from where he stood on the side of where they had set up to start. They had gathered an audience, naturally, and the rest of the team, coaches, Will, Higgins, and even Rebecca sat on the side of the pitch to watch the matchup between Tate and Jamie.

"Let's just get this over with," She grinned, rolling the ball back to the designated starting point. Jamie matched her grin, though he quickly scowled at his teammates when all of them started chanting her name.

"Whistle!" Roy shouted, and Tate shoved her amusement at his sensitivity to impure metals down as she started to dribble towards Jamie. His approach towards her was slow, calculated, and Tate drew in a steadying breath because even though the stakes weren't all that high, for her at least, she still wanted to be able to say she beat a Premier League striker in his own game.

Once Jamie was close, she let muscle memory take over as she moved through a step-over she'd spent hours perfecting when she played in college during a particularly rough time with her mother—when everything she did had been compared to Tommie, down to the way she dressed and how much she ate.

Her dedication paid off, apparently, because she was able to beat Jamie, leaving nothing between her and an open goal. The shouting from the sideline was nearly deafening, and Tate couldn't help but grin as she kicked the ball, sinking it in the top left corner to seal Jamie's fate.

"How the fuck are you that good?" Jamie asked as he jogged to where she stood. "Like, I knew you were good, but that was like, mad, innit?"

"You know I still play in my advanced rec league," She reminded him of her standing appointment with a co-ed team made up of players that probably could have gone pro but chose a simpler life. It was something she always made time in her schedule for, unless Richmond had a match or some other work-event she couldn't miss. "And I join you boys for trainings every now and then. I've kept myself good."

"And thank Christ you have, Tate," Roy called out, his version of praise. "Tartt, I told you so."

"Thanks for going easy on me, baby." Tate grinned, sticking her tongue out at Jamie in his trademarked furiously annoying way. His overly-expressive face dropped in disbelief, and Tate was pretty sure she heard Roy laughing at Jamie's reaction.

Then Zoreaux was racing onto pitch demanding she try a penalty kick on him, which went in just as easily as it did when Jamie was attacking. Then, without any discussion, the boys set up a corner kick for her, which she made on the second attempt. It spiraled into Roy and Beard setting up plays for her to run through, if only to keep her on the pitch to watch her play.

And the general consensus was that Tate Greene was really fucking good at football.

"Can we come to your next rec match, Tate?"