(rivals to lovers, small town, sports) (Season 2 ongoing) After a devastating Olympic loss puts her career in a downward spiral, an aging skier returns to her laid-back mountain hometown to rediscover her love of her sport and instead finds herself...
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Eddie could not stop thinking about Holly.
It was a problem. She hadn't come to Lovers Gap looking for a rebound. She hadn't even started to imagine, yet, trying to be with someone new.
Even in that kinda goofy golf shirt, though, it had been impossible not to notice that Holly was drop-dead gorgeous. Impossible not to be charmed by their sincerity.
It was a long shot. Eddie knew what she was working with these days, and after the accident, Holly had rushed away too soon for her to get a good sense of the vibe between them. But she'd decided a long time ago that it was better to regret doing something than to regret notdoing it. So here she was in the little café Holly had suggested, ten minutes early, playing with the stone charm on her necklace while she waited.
Not hoping. Just open to the possibilities.
No ratty work clothes today. She'd worn her favourite dusty-green cotton pants, hems rolled, and a crisp white t-shirt, her denim jacket slung over the chair under her bicycle helmet. She'd long since lost the tight little ass and effortless abs she'd always had when she was training for competition, but the shirt made her boobs look great. Not that she knew if Holly was into boobs, but it was the one part of her body she liked better now. It couldn't hurt to show them off.
Danica would have said she looked desperate, but Danica had ripped out her heart and ground it to dust under her skate blade, so her opinions weren't supposed to matter anymore.
Eddie cradled her chin in her palm, more subdued now.
The café, tucked away on a back street overlooking the river, was cute. Witchy vibes, with candles and crystals and a shocking number of analogue clocks on the dozens of small shelves all over the walls. Pots full of green, growing things filled the front window.
Did it say something about Holly, that they chose this café in particular? Was it the cozy atmosphere? Did they like that it was a local business, less commercial than the coffee shops on Main Street where the tourists must flock in the high season? Or maybe it was just that small Progress Pride flag in the window. That was something Eddie noticed a lot more, now that she presented so visibly queer that spaces that used to feel safe sometimes didn't anymore.
Movement outside. She jerked upright as the bell over the door chimed and Holly's killer black boots thudded against the wooden ramp.
Holly had ditched the golf shirt and Eddie was stunned all over again by the sight of them. They were all lean limbs in cropped black pants and a sleeveless, high-collared white silk shirt that bared a light sprinkle of freckles on their toned biceps and a flash of tattoo on the inside of their right arm. Only half their hair was slicked back today, bright gold curls tumbling against the right side of their face.
There was that weird feeling again, like I know this person, even though she didn't. There was no way she'd ever have forgotten meeting Holly.
She caught their eye with a wave, rising halfway to her feet with some intention of, like, gallantly pulling out their chair, but Holly was faster. They perched on the edge of their seat and Eddie sank back into her own chair, feeling a little silly.
