Breaking the Grid

Wrapped around my finger

I wasn't sure when Blair became so... clingy.

Okay, no. That wasn't fair. She wasn't clingy, she was just—
completely, hopelessly obsessed with me.

And fine, maybe I loved that. Maybe I even leaned into it a little too much.

But right now, standing outside Katie's house with the soft press of Blair's lips brushing across my jaw for the third time in under two minutes, it was starting to feel a bit ridiculous.

"Blair," I murmured with a half-laugh, ducking my face into her hoodie as she kissed the top of my cheek again. "You've already said goodbye."

She didn't budge. Her arm was still wrapped tightly around my waist, her other hand gently toying with the hem of my jacket. "That was then. This is now. What if I never see you again?"

I pulled back to look at her. "You're literally going to see me in like, four hours. At the game."

Blair's eyes went wide with mock horror. "Four hours is a lifetime in lesbian time. You could meet someone else. Fall in love. Forget I exist. Move to Norway."

"Norway?" I deadpanned.

She shrugged. "It happens."

I tried to hold in my laugh but failed, biting down on my lower lip as she leaned in for yet another kiss—this one slow, like she was trying to prove some dramatic point.

"You're unbelievable," I murmured, my voice muffled against her lips.

"I know," she whispered back, brushing her nose against mine before kissing it. "But you love it."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her hand, gently pushing it off my waist. "Okay, come on. I have to go inside or Katie's going to think I got kidnapped again."

Blair glanced toward the house and then, very casually, said, "I'm coming in."

I blinked. "You're what?"

"I'm walking you in. Can't have my girlfriend fending for herself in a house full of aggressive footballers."

"Blair."

"Kyra."

"I know them."

"I don't care."

Before I could argue again, she was already at the door, holding it open like it was a royal entrance and I was some sort of duchess. Which, with her, honestly didn't feel that far off sometimes.

I sighed and stepped inside, fully expecting a snide comment or at least a laugh, but instead—

"Oi!"

Katie's voice echoed from the living room. "Kyra! Blair's still attached to you, huh? Do we need to get her surgically removed or what?"

From the couch, Caitlin leaned sideways, her face half-buried in a throw pillow.

Blair waved at her casually. "Morning to you too, Katie."

Blair draped herself over the back of the couch as I sat down, her hand instinctively finding my shoulder. "You're all just bitter no one's writing poetry for your pre-game hangouts."

"You wrote her poetry?" Caitlin blinked.

"I could. I thought about it."

Katie threw her head back. "God help us."

Steph, who had been quietly scrolling through her phone in the corner, finally looked up. "You two are worse than the Netflix dramas."

"Can I at least be the morally gray lead?" Blair asked, deadpan.