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Assistant: Title: Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin
        Author: Anonymous undefined 
        Chapter: 17/28 
        Summary: When Caitlin Clark meets Kate Martin and her world simply stops. Adorable, deeply rooted, gay awakening love story. Basketball, on correct timeline to seasons/games etc. Long-term fic. Queer love and pride :)Currently 20+ chapters in and growing. Sm@t, plot, and fluff throughout.TW: Caitlin eating disorder, lesbian and gay trauma, etc.
        Contents: Chapter 17: Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin
    

    

        
          
          
            End of szn & B1G 10 Tournament Freshman Year
          
        

      
        
          Disclaimer: This is my first time writing a fic! Any feedback is welcome. Friends -> lovers, Caitlin's gay-awakening. I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.NSFW: Wlw, fxf etc, sm@t, all that good stuff.
      
  

  
  
    
    They didn’t make it to the bed.Somewhere between rounds two and three, they’d fallen asleep on the floor — half-covered by a blanket, tangled in each other, hearts still racing from everything they’d shared.Caitlin woke first. It was just past 2 a.m. The fairy lights had burned low. Her back ached from the hardwood, and her legs were curled tight beneath Kate’s sweatshirt, which she’d apparently stolen again sometime in the night.Kate was asleep beside her, one arm flung across Caitlin’s stomach, her face buried in the crook of Caitlin’s shoulder like it was the only place she trusted to land.Caitlin breathed.Then whispered, “Kate.”A murmur. A twitch. Then Kate blinked, dazed and puffy-eyed. “Mmm?”“We’re on the floor.”Kate grunted. “Floor’s not that bad.”“You’re gonna be sore.”“I’m already sore.”Caitlin smiled — small, tired, full of something she didn’t have a name for yet. “Come on,” she said softly. “Bed.”Kate hauled herself up with a groan and then, without warning, scooped Caitlin into her arms.“Jesus—Kate—”“Shut up, superstar.”Caitlin didn’t protest. She tucked her face into Kate’s neck and let herself be carried.They collapsed into bed like they’d never known another place. Kate curled around her again, tucking her in like a reflex. And for a while, it was silent.Then, softly:“I’ve been thinking,” Caitlin murmured.Kate stirred. “About?”“If we… if I told someone. Like Gabby. Or McKenna. What would that be like?”For a second, nothing.Then Kate’s breath hitched. She sat up a little, blinking fast.“You mean—like—tell them? About us?”Caitlin nodded. “Not now. Not tonight. Just… wondering.”Kate didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, softly, like it escaped her: “You thought about that?”Caitlin nodded. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”“No,” Kate said quickly. “No, it’s not.” Her voice had gone soft. Careful. Like she was afraid to look too directly at it.“I was just thinking,” Caitlin added, “if I told them… and they were cool about it… maybe we could stop pretending we’re just two idiots watching movies every night.”Kate laughed. But it cracked at the edges. “I mean, we are two idiots watching movies.”Caitlin grinned sleepily. “Sure. But what if we didn’t have to lie about being in love?”Kate didn’t answer right away. Her hand found Caitlin’s cheek and brushed a bit of hair from her forehead. Her thumb lingered there. Then: ““God, I’d love that.”Her voice cracked. Just a little. Enough. Caitlin turned toward her, brow furrowed. “Yeah?”Kate didn’t speak right away. Her fingers kept tracing light, lazy circles along Caitlin’s side. “They’d love you no matter what,” she said carefully.“That’s not what I asked.”Kate exhaled. “I think Gabby would scream and immediately try to set up a joint TikTok. McKenna would say ‘finally’ and then swear she always knew.”That earned a quiet laugh from Caitlin. “She probably does.”Kate kissed her shoulder. “I think they’d be happy for you.”“For us,” Caitlin corrected, quietly.Kate froze. Just for a beat.Then: “For us,” she agreed, softer.Caitlin felt it — that half-second of tension. Not panic. Not fear. Just… something bracing.Kate added, quieter, “I think I’d be really happy.”Caitlin tilted her head. “Yeah?”Kate nodded. “Yeah. I mean—obviously, it’s your call. Your timeline. I’ll never ask for more than you can give.” She paused. “But I’d be lying if I said I don’t think about it.”Caitlin stayed quiet.Kate kept going. “Cait. I know what this costs you. I’d stay in the dark forever if that’s what you needed.” Caitlin’s heart thudded. Kate looked away. “You don’t have to be ready. I’m not trying to guilt you. It’s just—” She exhaled. “You bringing it up? Even just the idea? It means a lot.”“I saw the way you lit up,” Caitlin said, voice thin. “Like you couldn’t help it.”Kate froze. “I’m sorry.”“No,” Caitlin said quickly. “Don’t be. It was… good. I want to know what it means to you. Why it matters.”Kate laid back down, slower this time. Curled her hand around Caitlin’s. “It means I get to stop pretending that you’re just my teammate. That I’m just your friend. It means I get to be the girl who loves you. Not in secret. Not only in the quiet. But where other people can see.”Caitlin squeezed her hand. Then, softly: “I’m not ready.”Kate nodded immediately. “You don’t have to be.”“I mean—I want to be. I think I could be. Someday.”“I know.” Kate kissed her forehead. “You don’t owe anyone a timeline.”Caitlin’s fingers curled into the fabric of Kate’s t-shirt. “I don’t want to be ashamed.”“You don’t have to be.” Kate pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Not with me. Not with them. When you’re ready, you get to come out the way you want to. And if that includes telling Gabby and McKenna? Then we’ll do it together. If it doesn’t yet? I’ll still be right here.”Caitlin swallowed. Then nodded.Kate tucked her back against her chest, cheek pressed to her hair. “You don’t have to carry this alone. Being in love with you isn’t something I want to hide forever. But I will—for as long as you need me to.”Caitlin didn’t answer. She just breathed, long and slow, safe and still.And in the dark quiet of the room, with the blanket sliding off the edge of the bed and the faint hum of the old projector still running in the background, she whispered:“I love you Kate.”“I love you too, Caitlin Clark.”——Morning came gray and slow, a sliver of pale light slipping through the blinds. Caitlin stirred first. Her muscles ached in that good way, the way that said last night had been real, had been heavy enough to leave marks. Kate’s arm still wrapped tight around her waist, her breath warm at the back of Caitlin’s neck.For a moment, she didn’t move. Just floated there, half-awake, feeling the weight of it — of Kate, of love, of the secret they carried like a second skin.Eventually, Kate shifted. A sleepy groan left her throat as she tightened her hold. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled against Caitlin’s shoulder.“We have weights,” Caitlin whispered back. But she didn’t try to leave. She didn’t want to.Kate pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck. “We’ll be late together.”At practice later, Caitlin felt the pull.The team circled up for warmups, laughter spilling easy between Gabby and McKenna. Kate jogged in late, hair still damp from her rushed shower, and shot Caitlin a grin so small nobody else noticed. But Caitlin felt it. It landed somewhere low in her chest and stayed there, thrumming quietly.They moved through drills, passing, shooting, rebounding. Coach barked orders. Sneakers squeaked. B@lls hit the floor in rhythmic thuds.But Caitlin’s mind drifted. She found herself stealing glances — tiny ones — when Kate wasn’t looking. Watching the way Kate’s mouth pulled into that lopsided grin when she nailed a three. Watching how Gabby smacked her shoulder in celebration. Watching McKenna ruffle her hair like a little brother.Nobody knew.Nobody saw. Only Caitlin felt the weight of what if. What if they could just be?—----The next time Kate checked her phone, it buzzed against her thigh.A text from Lexie. U alive?? Queer night tonight. Come be hot & irresponsible. 💀🏳️‍🌈Kate smiled, small and cracked. She typed out a response.Busy tonight. Sorry <3She deleted it.Typed again.Rain check?Deleted that too.Finally she locked the phone and flipped it facedown on the nightstand, next to Caitlin’s tangled hoodie and an empty bottle of Gatorade.She wasn’t going.She didn’t have to say it out loud to know it.Kate tucked her face into Caitlin’s hair and told herself it didn’t matter.Told herself it was still enough to be wanted here, even if the rest of the world forgot she existed.—---The Maryland game felt like drowning. They were down by fifteen at half. By twenty early in the third.Caitlin kept fighting — launching threes, diving for loose b@lls, barking at refs with her mouth tight and voice thinner than usual.But she wasn’t there. Not really.Kate could feel it from the bench, from across the court, from the way Caitlin’s shoulders stayed locked no matter how loud the gym got. Like she was playing through glass.When the final buzzer sounded — 93 to 1111 — Caitlin didn’t even look toward the bench.She jogged straight into the tunnel, head down.Kate found her later, kneeling in front of a vending machine, forehead pressed to the scratched-up Plexiglas."Cait?" she said, careful.No answer. Just a slow breath, shaking through her back.Kate crouched down beside her. Close enough to touch, but didn’t."You played your heart out.""We lost," Caitlin said, voice shredded thin."You don’t have to do it alone."Caitlin didn’t move.Didn’t speak.Didn’t reach for her.Kate waited. Because that’s what you do when you love someone who doesn’t know how to be caught.—-----Grayson didn’t ask about Maryland directly. She didn’t ask about points or rebounds or turnovers.She just said, "You seem tired."Caitlin laughed under her breath — a sound with no humor in it. "That's because I am."They sat in the quiet for a while. Long enough for Caitlin to almost forget she was supposed to say something.Finally: "I think I’m afraid to be happy."Grayson nodded like she’d been expecting it. "Because if you’re happy," she said, "you have something you can lose."Caitlin looked down. Picked at the hem of her sleeve."I didn’t think this would be so hard," she muttered. "Loving her. Being loved back."Grayson didn’t push. She just waited, folding herself into the silence like she had all the time in the world.Caitlin kept picking at the hem of her sleeve.Tiny threads frayed under her thumb."I told her," she said finally. Voice barely there. "I told her I told you about her. And I told her I was thinking about… maybe telling people. About us." Grayson nodded, patient."And?"Caitlin blew out a shaky breath. Her fingers twisted harder into the fabric. "She lit up." Grayson tilted her head, encouraging. Not rushing. Not assuming.Caitlin swallowed. "Like — not just happy. Like… hope. Like I handed her something she'd been holding her breath for and didn’t know if she'd ever get." Her throat tightened. She dug her nails into her palm until it stung. "I didn’t expect it," she whispered. "I didn’t expect her to want it that much.""And that scared you?" Grayson asked.Caitlin nodded, quick and sharp. "Yeah. It scared the sh@t out of me."Grayson’s voice stayed low. Calm. "Because?""Because I’m not ready," Caitlin rasped. "Because I —" She stopped. Pressed her fist against her mouth for a second like she could shove the words back down. Grayson gave her the space to find it. "Because she deserves someone who can… do that," Caitlin said eventually. "Someone who can hold her hand in public and not flinch. Someone who doesn't freeze up the second someone looks too long."She looked up then. Eyes wide, scared. Honest. “I want to want it,” she said finally. “I want to be brave. But there are rules. Expectations. Things that aren’t supposed to happen.”“Whose rules?” Grayson asked.“I don’t know,” Caitlin said. “Everyone’s. The world’s. Mine.” She dug her thumbnail into her palm. “It’s not just about coming out. It’s… it’s not just about me.”Grayson nodded. “So you’re protecting something.”Caitlin blinked. And blinked again.“The structure,” she said quietly. “The trust. The rhythm. What we’re supposed to be.”“We?” Grayson asked. Voice careful.Caitlin hesitated. Just long enough for the answer to live between them.Then: “It’s not something I can talk about yet.”Grayson didn’t press. “Okay.”“I just… I can’t be the reason it all falls apart.”Grayson didn’t say anything. Didn’t argue. Just stayed. Caitlin closed her eyes and kept going because if she stopped now, she'd never say it."When I saw her smile like that," she said, voice cracking, "I realized I could break her.""And you’re afraid of that?" Grayson asked."I’m f@ck@ng terrified." The words came out raw. Ripped from somewhere deeper than she meant to reach."I love her so much," Caitlin said. "But what if loving her isn’t enough? What if I love her and still make her feel small? Still make her feel invisible? Still…" She trailed off, pressing the heel of her palm into her eye. "Still hurt her."Grayson leaned forward a little. Enough to be closer without closing the distance Caitlin needed. "You’re trying to control something you can’t," she said. "You're trying to love perfectly."Caitlin’s laugh broke out brittle and short. "Yeah. Well. I’ve spent my whole life being perfect.""And how’s that working for you?"Caitlin flinched. But she smiled too — a crooked, wrecked thing. "It’s lonely," she admitted.Grayson nodded. "It’s supposed to be. Perfection isn’t connection. It’s a wall."Caitlin looked down again. Picked harder at her sleeve. She could feel the heat rising behind her eyes but she didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not when she'd finally managed to say it."I want to be brave," she whispered… "But every time I get close to it, I just —"  She shook her head. Couldn’t find the word."Freeze," Grayson offered. Caitlin nodded."And sometimes," Grayson added, voice steady, "you punish yourself for wanting more. For wanting her."Caitlin swallowed against the knot in her throat. "Yeah."Grayson sat back, let it breathe."You’re not broken, Caitlin," she said. "You’re scared. And it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be unfinished.""But what if I hurt her?" Caitlin asked again. This time it came out smaller. Younger."You will," Grayson said simply. Caitlin’s head jerked up, startled."You will hurt her. You will lose." Grayson repeated, gentle but unflinching. "Not because you want to. Not because you’re cruel. But because love isn’t perfect. It’s real. And real things crack sometimes."Caitlin blinked fast. "I don’t want to be another person who hides her. Or makes her feel like she’s too much.""Then don't," Grayson said. "Own the love you're giving. Own the fear. Let her see it. Let her see you."Caitlin scrubbed a hand over her face. "It’s not that simple.""I know," Grayson said. "But it's that real."The clock ticked somewhere behind them. Caitlin breathed."This isn't a pass/fail," Grayson said. "This is learning how to stay when it gets uncomfortable. Learning how to love when it’s messy. Learning how to let yourself be loved when you’re not perfect."Caitlin dropped her head into her hands."I hate that I want it so bad," she said, voice muffled.Grayson’s voice softened even further. "It’s not a weakness to want to be seen."Silence."You’re already learning," Grayson said. "You're already closer than you think."Another long pause.Then Caitlin said — voice breaking, real: "I don’t want to lose her.""You won’t," Grayson said.  "And even if someday you do — it’s not because you weren't enough."Caitlin breathed. Deep. Shaky.Like maybe — just maybe — she could believe it for a second.Grayson smiled — small, sure. "Love her. Be scared. Let it be messy. That’s still love."Caitlin wiped at her face and nodded. Not strong. Not certain. But present.For now, that was enough.—----At Michigan, the world felt lighter — at least for a little while.Eighty-nine to sixty-seven.A blowout.Easy smiles.Caitlin played like her body finally remembered joy — loose, fluid, relentless.She swung passes without looking, chased rebounds she had no business grabbing, talked sh@t under her breath just loud enough for the bench to hear.Kate hit a corner three in the third and Caitlin smacked her ass so hard McKenna doubled over laughing.They were ridiculous.And for the first time in weeks, they didn’t care.Later, back in the apartment, Caitlin padded into the living room wearing one of Kate’s sweatshirts and nothing else.Kate was already curled on the couch, hair wet from the shower, one leg tucked beneath her.Caitlin didn’t ask.She just climbed into her lap like she belonged there, arms draped around her neck, breath warm against her cheek.“You were a menace tonight,” she murmured.Kate hummed. Smiled into the space just below Caitlin’s jaw.“So were you, superstar.”Caitlin tilted her head back. Let her eyes close. Let herself feel the weight of winning, of stillness, of hands that knew how to hold her without asking her to be anything else.“I missed this,” she said. “You. This. Us.”Kate kissed the corner of her mouth. Then again, slower. “We’re right here.”Caitlin tipped her head up — slow, deliberate. Let their mouths hover, a breath apart. She smiled, wicked and soft.“Come to bed with me,” she whispered.Kate’s thumb grazed the inside of her thigh — featherlight. “You sure you can handle it, superstar?”Kate backed them in slow, her hands cradling Caitlin’s face like she was something precious, not just wanted.They made it to the bedroom, but just barely.Caitlin kissed her like she didn’t need to prove anything — like she already knew she was allowed to take.Kate kissed her back like she was grateful to be taken.There was no edge to it tonight. No rush. No unraveling.They didn’t bother with the lights.The dark made it easier to be greedy.Caitlin pinned Kate to the mattress like she was trying to carve the memory of her into her body.Hands everywhere. Mouth everywhere.The sweatshirt came off halfway across the bed. Kate’s shirt rode up to her ribs and Caitlin chased it with her mouth.Kate laughed — breathless and aching — when Caitlin mouthed at her stomach, her hip, the soft inside of her thigh.“F@ck,” Kate whispered when Caitlin’s teeth grazed skin. “C’mere.”There was teasing, but it wasn’t a game.It was an offering.Just Caitlin pressing Kate into the mattress and laughing softly when their knees bumped.Just Kate whispering, “Slower. Stay with me,” and Caitlin answering, “I’m not going anywhere.”Caitlin dragged her mouth down the line of Kate’s stomach, soft and reverent, like she was mapping something holy.Kate buried her hands in Caitlin’s hair and breathed out her name like a prayer she hadn’t meant to say out loud.Caitlin dragged her body up — slow and sure — fitting every inch of herself against Kate like she was staking a claim.Their kiss turned messier — teeth and tongue and gasping — hands sliding into the heat between them like they didn’t care who got there first.Kate’s hands shoved up Caitlin’s sweatshirt again. This time Caitlin helped her.Skin met skin.Flesh met need.Caitlin’s fingers tangled in Kate’s hair, yanking just enough to make her groan.Kate answered by sliding her thigh between Caitlin’s legs and grinding up, slow and mean.The sound Caitlin made — sharp, broken — would’ve embarrassed her anywhere else.But here, under Kate’s hands, under Kate’s mouth, it just made her wetter.They kissed like they were still trying to win something.They touched like they already had.It wasn’t careful.It wasn’t slow.Kate learned the sound Caitlin made when she was close — that soft, desperate exhale that always came with her name.It was want — pure and heavy and sweet — and it built in their bellies like something they could only outrun if they fell together.Caitlin came first — gasping into Kate’s mouth, thighs clenching hard around her hip.Kate came next, grinding up against the slick heat of Caitlin’s body until she broke apart with a sound that would’ve gotten them kicked out of the dorms if they still lived there.After, Caitlin collapsed on top of her, sweaty and panting and so stupidly in love it almost hurt.No one rushed.No one flipped the switch to take control.They stayed there — in each other.In the press and slide and gasp and give.When it was over, they didn’t pull apart.They stayed tangled. Damp skin, warm breath, fingers still linked.Caitlin lay on her stomach, cheek pressed to Kate’s shoulder.Kate’s hand traced lazy lines down her spine.Neither of them spoke for a long time.Then, finally:“That felt like coming home,” Caitlin whispered.Kate kissed her temple.“You are.”—----At Wisconsin, the quiet crept back in.They won — eighty-four to seventy — but Caitlin was jumpy. Snapping at refs.Tugging on her shorts during free throws like she wanted to climb out of her own skin.Afterward, in the locker room, Kate offered her a Gatorade. Caitlin took it without looking up.Didn’t say thanks. Didn’t meet her eyes.Kate told herself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just the season catching up with her.But the hollow feeling in her chest said otherwise.On the way home, Caitlin fell asleep against the window. Kate watched her reflection in the glass — mouth slack, brows still furrowed even in sleep.She thought about how easily Caitlin had said it last week: Maybe someday we could tell them.She thought about how fast Caitlin had pulled back after. About the way her voice had tightened. About the way she'd gone silent in every room that wasn’t just theirs.Kate pressed her forehead to the cold window and closed her eyes.She missed being seen. She missed herself.But she stayed anyway.Because love wasn’t supposed to be easy.Because Caitlin was learning.Because maybe — maybe — she was too.——The training room buzzed with low fluorescent light, the hum of the showers still running down the hall.Most of the team had cleared out.Just Kate left — sitting on the edge of a table, half-laced sneakers dangling, staring at a scuff mark on the floor like it might say something back.Monika leaned against the doorway. Arms crossed, easy but not casual.She’d been watching her for five minutes.Maybe longer.“You good?” she asked, finally.Kate smiled.The kind of smile that lived in your face when your chest was caving in.“Yeah. Fine.”Monika didn’t move.Didn’t press.Just let the silence stretch.“You know you’re a terrible liar, right?” she said eventually, one eyebrow raised.Kate’s mouth twitched. But it didn’t reach her eyes.She dropped her head into her hands.Then Monika said, “You know you can tell me if you’re not.”Kate didn’t mean to.Didn’t plan to.But something inside her cracked at the kindness in Monika’s voice.“It’s stupid,” she said.Monika shook her head. “Probably not.”Kate rubbed her hands down her thighs, like she could scrub the truth off her skin.“It’s just…” She swallowed. “I used to be so proud. You know?”Monika stayed silent.“I never had to come out with my family. I didn’t have a big fight or a tearful announcement. I didn’t lose friends over it. I just… was. And the people who mattered — they stayed.”Kate’s voice tightened, almost too quiet to hear.“I grew up thinking I got lucky. That being gay was easy for me.”Monika shifted slightly, closer but not crowding her.Kate kept going — because now that the words had cracked free, she couldn’t dam them up.“And now…”She shook her head.“I’m back in the closet. On purpose.”Her hands fisted in the hem of her shorts.“I don’t even think she meant for it to happen. I don’t think she’s trying to hurt me.”Monika nodded. Listening. Kate’s throat worked.“But I’m losing pieces of myself. And I can’t tell her. Because she’s so scared. And she’s trying so f@ck@ng hard. And I love her.”The last words broke — half-whisper, half-wreck.“I love her so much I’m willing to disappear for her,” Kate said. “And I don’t even know if she sees it happening.”Monika’s face softened. But she didn’t rush to fill the space.Kate wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. Not crying. Not really.Just leaking from the cracks.“I don’t flirt anymore,” she said, almost laughing. “I don’t go out. I don’t dress the way I used to. I feel like… like I’m folding myself into something smaller every day. So she can breathe.”“And who’s helping you breathe?” Monika asked, quiet.Kate squeezed her eyes shut.Nobody, she thought.But she didn’t say it.“I’m happy,” Kate said. “I’m so f@ck@ng happy when it’s just us. When it’s just…”She trailed off. Swallowed.“But when we’re out here—” she waved vaguely toward the locker room, the court, the world— “I feel like I don’t exist.”When she opened them again, Monika was still there.Still steady.Still real.“I thought,” Kate said, voice breaking again, “that having someone would make me feel more like myself. Not less.”“And you’re afraid if you ask for more,” Monika said carefully, “you’ll lose her.”Kate nodded.Fast. Sharp.“I don’t want to be another person pulling at her. Asking her to be something she’s not ready to be.”Monika stepped closer.Rested a hand on her knee — grounding, not trapping.“You’re not asking for too much,” she said.“You’re asking to be seen. That’s different.”Kate laughed — short, bitter.“Doesn’t feel different.”“It is,” Monika said.“Because loving someone isn’t supposed to erase you.”Kate swallowed hard.“I know.”“You’re not selfish for missing who you are,” Monika said. “You’re not selfish for wanting both things to be true — loving her and loving yourself.”Kate let her head fall forward — hair spilling into her face — and stayed there for a long moment.Finally, she whispered,“I don’t know how much more invisible I can get before I’m just… gone.”Monika squeezed her knee.“You won’t disappear,” she said. “I see you.Even if you can’t say it out loud yet — I see you.”Kate’s breath hitched.And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe it might be true.————The morning of their final regular season games against Nebraska, Caitlin seemed lighter.Not loud.Not bouncing-off-the-walls happy.But something in her shoulders was easier.Something in the way she laced her shoes, cracked a dumb joke at Jada’s expense, let Gabbie elbow her in the ribs without tensing up.Kate clocked it from across the locker room.Tried not to stare.Tried not to hope too hard.Tip-off came and Caitlin was there.Locked in.Alive in a way Kate hadn’t seen in weeks.She dropped twenty by halftime.Hit a step-back three and winked at the bench like she was daring the world to tell her no.Kate played free too — two threes, three steals, a charge taken that made Jan slap her ass harder than she deserved.The team buzzed with it — that old electricity, that sharp sweetness that only came when they trusted each other enough to be reckless.They won.Not clean.Not easy.But it was theirs.In the tunnel after, Caitlin grabbed Kate’s hand for just a second — a flash — pulling her in by the wrist like she forgot to be afraid.“Come with me,” she said, breathless, grinning.Kate let herself be dragged.The locker room buzzed around them — laughter, towels snapping, the distant thunder of showers running.Caitlin didn’t let go of her hand.Didn’t care who saw.Didn’t hesitate.She pulled Kate straight into the back hallway where the showers hissed against the tile — hot and loud enough to drown out the world.Under the mist and noise, Caitlin grabbed her.Fisted a hand in Kate’s jersey.Dragged her in and kissed her.Hard.Hot.Real.Kate gasped — not from surprise, but from how much it meant.Caitlin kissed her like she couldn’t breathe unless she was pressed against her.Like winning wasn’t enough if she couldn’t have this too.Kate kissed back harder — hands clutching Caitlin’s hips, pulling her in tight — feeling the slick heat of the steam, the wet cling of Caitlin’s shirt, the hammer of her own heart.It wasn’t careful.It wasn’t sweet.It was claiming.Teeth scraped lips. Fingertips dug into skin.Caitlin moaned low in her throat, barely contained, like she didn’t care anymore if anyone heard.Kate wanted to live there forever — in that heat, in that hunger, in that impossible, reckless love.When Caitlin finally pulled back, they were both gasping.Foreheads pressed together.Chests heaving.Smiling like idiots.“I f@ck@ng love you,” Caitlin whispered, voice wrecked and shining and raw.Kate squeezed her hips, grounding both of them.“I love you too,” she said. “So f@ck@ng much.”They didn’t undress.They didn’t even think about it.They just took — quick, fierce, shaking — until Caitlin broke away first, forehead pressed to Kate’s, breathing like she’d run full-court suicides.Caitlin laughed — this stunned, giddy little sound — and ducked her head like she couldn’t believe she’d done it.Then, reckless and glowing, she grabbed the edge of the nearest shower and flicked it on — water crashing down between them.Kate shrieked — half laugh, half protest — as warm water soaked through their clothes.“You’re an idiot,” she gasped.Caitlin beamed at her.“I’m your idiot.”They stumbled back toward the locker room, soaked and dripping and laughing too hard to care.Nobody said anything.Kate caught Caitlin’s eye across the room — and this time, Caitlin didn’t flinch.She smiled.Wide. Stupid. Brave.And Kate let herself exhale.———Grayson didn’t say much when Caitlin dropped into the chair, sleeves already pulled halfway over her hands.The air felt heavier than usual.  Like Caitlin was holding her breath inside her own skin."You played well against Nebraska," Grayson said gently.Caitlin shrugged. "We won.""You smiled," Grayson said. "You let yourself have it.""Caitlin," she said carefully, "you’ve talked about her for a while now. Without naming her."Another silence."You don’t have to," Grayson said. "But it might help if we could talk about her... as she really is. In your life. In your world."Caitlin stared at the floor. Her throat moved like she was swallowing a stone."She’s on the team," she said finally. Barely a whisper.Grayson didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. "Thank you for telling me," she said, even, steady.It took three breaths. Two false starts. Then: "It’s Kate." Voice breaking like it cost her something real."Kate’s the one," she said again. "Kate’s... everything."Grayson nodded once. Slow. Measured. She didn’t look surprised. She didn’t look concerned.Just... present. "That’s a lot to carry," she said softly.Caitlin laughed — wrecked and hollow. "You think?"Grayson leaned forward slightly. Elbows on her knees. Voice low."I’m not worried because it’s Kate," she said.  "I’m not worried because you love her, and you don’t have to stop…. I want that to be clear.” Caitlin exhaled a long breath, but Grayson continued. I’m only expressing some concern because loving someone inside your team — inside your leadership structure — adds pressure you don’t even realize you’re carrying yet."Caitlin blinked fast. Her walls started crumbling again."You’re not doing anything wrong," Grayson said firmly. "And neither is she. The challenge," Grayson continued, "is not about love. It's about the roles you're carrying — and how many of them live in the same space." Caitlin’s hands fisted in her lap. "You’re her teammate. Her co-leader. Her roommate. Her partner. Her secret. Her future." Grayson let the weight of it build between them. "That’s a lot to hold at once."Caitlin stayed silent."And none of those roles," Grayson said, voice softer now, "are wrong… But they can conflict.Not because you love wrong. But because competing priorities pull at the same heart." Caitlin blinked fast. "Tell me," she said carefully, "what roles you’re holding right now."Caitlin stared at the floor. "I’m a point guard. A scorer. A leader. A face. A... girlfriend." The last word barely made it out.Grayson nodded. "And which of those feel heavy today?""All of them," Caitlin said. "But especially... the ones with her.""Why?"Caitlin looked up. For once, she didn’t dodge the question. "Because when I’m with her," she said, voice shaking, "I don’t want to be anything else."Grayson stayed quiet. Let her hear herself."And that scares you," Grayson said. Not a question.Caitlin nodded. Fierce. Miserable. “I kissed her. In the locker room. After the game.”"You don’t have to defend it," Grayson said gently.  "You can just tell me."Caitlin stared at her knees. "It felt good," she said. "It felt real. It felt like — like breathing." Grayson nodded once. “But someone could have seen…. And I’m terrified because I forgot to care if they did," Caitlin corrected, voice cracking.Grayson didn’t push when Caitlin hesitated.She just asked: "What's scaring you right now?"Caitlin chewed the inside of her cheek. Fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve."I love being around her," she said finally. "I love touching her. I love sleeping next to her."Grayson nodded once. "And?""I love her," she said. "I trust her… I want her."A longer silence stretched between them."It’s not that I’m scared of being seen," Caitlin said, struggling to thread the words together."It’s that I’m scared of being next to her and not thinking about basketball at all." Caitlin laughed — small, helpless. "I’m scared," Caitlin whispered, "that if we share a room the night before a game... I won’t be able to focus. I’ll just want her.  I'll want her so bad that everything else will slip."Her cheeks flushed hot. But she didn’t look away. "I know what it’s like now," Caitlin said. “To need someone so bad it feels physical. To want them on you. To ache for it." She squeezed her eyes shut. "And it’s not just s@x," she said fiercely. "It’s that she’s the place I feel safe. And if we’re together the night before I have to be perfect—" Her voice broke completely then. "I don’t trust myself to want less."Grayson didn’t flinch. Didn’t soften it, either."You don't need to want less," she said gently.  "You just need to want wisely."And I'm terrified I'm not going to sleep before these games," she said. "I'm terrified I'm going to mess it all up because being near her feels so good I forget to be locked in.""Then you set boundaries," she said. "Not because you love less. But because you love wisely."A long pause."You can be her teammate," Grayson said. "You can be her captain. You can be her lover. But maybe you can’t be all of them, all the time, without losing pieces of yourself."Caitlin’s throat tightened."So what do I do?"Grayson leaned back.Just gave her the space. "What do you need," she asked, "to protect the parts of you that need protecting right now?"The silence stretched.Finally: "I think," Caitlin said slowly, "I need space. Just... during the tournament. Just to keep my head clear.""And do you believe," Grayson asked, "that needing space means loving her less?"Caitlin shook her head. Tears prickled, unshed. "No," she said. "It means I want to be good enough for her. And for me.""I don’t want her to think it’s rejection.""Then don’t let her," Grayson said simply. "Tell her the truth. Tell her you love her so much it rewires your brain. Tell her you want her so badly it makes you forget yourself." Pause."And tell her you want to win. Not because basketball matters more. Because your life — your love — deserves to be lived fully."Caitlin pressed her forehead to her knees."I hate this," she muttered.Grayson smiled — not unkind."That’s how you know it’s real."—------They packed for Indy late that night.She found Kate outside the locker room, still half-dressed, balancing a Gatorade on her knee."Hey," Caitlin said, voice low.Kate looked up immediately. Grinned like Caitlin hung the stars.  "Hey, superstar."Caitlin's chest twisted. She swallowed hard."Can we talk?" she asked.Kate's smile faded — not fearfully, just... carefully. "Yeah. Always."Caitlin tugged her down the hall — away from the noise, the chaos, the world.They ended up against a cinderblock wall, tucked half out of sight, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above them.Caitlin pressed her back to the wall. Pressed her fists into her thighs. Breathed once, twice. Kate waited. Quiet. Open.Caitlin finally looked up. She didn’t know how to start soft, so she didn’t."I can't room with you in Indy," she said. Fast. Blunt. Raw. Kate blinked. She didn’t pull back. She didn’t flinch."Okay," she said slowly. “Can you tell me why?"Caitlin laughed once — wrecked and hollow. "Because if I do," she said, voice shaking, "I’m not going to sleep."Kate’s face softened immediately. Still cautious. Still listening."I’m gonna want you," Caitlin said.  Explicit. Unafraid now.  "I’m gonna want you so f@ck@ng bad I won’t be able to think." Her voice cracked — not from shame, but from how much she meant it. I’m gonna want to take you apart piece by piece until neither of us remembers there's a tournament at all."Kate’s breath caught visibly."And I can't," Caitlin whispered. "I can't lose my focus right now. But I can't lose you either.I can't lose... this." She finally looked up. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall."I’m not choosing basketball over you," Caitlin said fiercely.  "I’m choosing both… I’m choosing you by not risking us getting messy when the stakes are this high."Kate didn’t speak for a long moment. Just stared at her — like she was seeing something holy. Then — finally — she smiled.Small. Wrecked. Blinding."Baby," she said, voice wrecked too, "I get it."Kate stepped closer. Took Caitlin’s face in both hands — gentle, grounding."I get it," she said again.  "You love me and you’re trying to protect all of this." Caitlin nodded, throat working.Kate leaned in. Pressed their foreheads together."I want you too," she whispered.  "I want you so bad it’s stupid."Caitlin let out a broken laugh. Felt herself tremble under it."But we can want each other," Kate said, "and still be smart about it." She kissed her. Soft, slow, deep. Not claiming. Not needy.Just there.When she pulled back, her hands still cradled Caitlin’s jaw like she was something precious."I’ll room with whoever," Kate said. "But when we win this thing—" Her voice dropped low, hot against Caitlin’s mouth—  "—I’m gonna have you in my bed so fast you won’t even see it coming."Caitlin smiled then — real and wild and trembling. "I love you," she whispered. Kate grinned against her lips."I love you too, superstar."They kissed again — quick and hard, like a promise, like a brand — before pulling apart.Caitlin stepped back first, heart hammering but lighter than it had been in days.Kate let her go.Because loving someone wasn’t about holding them too tight.It was about knowing when to let them be free — so they could always find their way back.And Caitlin was already finding her way back.Every second.Every breath.—----The tournament started in a blur.They beat Purdue first. Eighty-three to seventy-two.It wasn’t pretty, but it was enough. Caitlin hit seven threes. Kate drew two charges. Gabby got elbowed in the nose and laughed through the blood.After, they sat on opposite sides of the team room — not by choice, not by plan. Just the way it happened. Caitlin caught Kate’s eye once, across the noise, and Kate smiled — the small, steady one that always used to feel like a tether.This time, it barely landed.—--------They beat Rutgers next. Seventy-three to sixty-two.It was clinical. Mechanical.Caitlin dropped twenty-four. Kate hit back-to-back threes that should’ve felt like a gut punch to the world.They didn’t celebrate afterward. Not really. Just high-fives and Gatorade and quick showers.Caitlin slept alone again. Tried not to miss the way Kate’s breathing used to calm her heart before games. Tried not to think about how easy it had been, once, to crawl into bed and forget about the weight of it all.Tried not to think about how much she wanted to roll over, find Kate’s hand under the covers, and hold it until the sun came up.She didn’t.She stayed in her own room.She stayed locked in.And they kept winning.—----Michigan State fell next. Eighty-seven to seventy-two.It should have felt like joy. It should have felt like momentum.Instead, it felt like survival.Caitlin smiled on the court — for the cameras, for the teammates slapping her back — but inside, it was hollow. Kate passed her once in the tunnel afterward — brushed her knuckles against Caitlin’s hand just for a second, so fast it could have been a mistake.Caitlin’s whole body flinched toward her before she forced herself back.They didn’t speak.Just kept walking.Kept pretending they hadn’t built something real enough to miss.—----And then Maryland.Finals.Lights too bright.Court too slick.The weight of it all pressing down before the ball even tipped.Caitlin played tight.Kate played quieter than usual.They clawed.They scraped.They fought.It didn’t matter.They lost.Seventy-eight to sixty-eight.When the final buzzer sounded, Caitlin stood at midcourt and stared at the scoreboard like it might change if she just glared hard enough.It didn’t.They shook hands.They clapped backs.They walked off the court with their heads up.No tears.No breakdowns.Just... silence.The kind that sank into your skin and stayed there.—Back at the hotel, the hallways felt too bright.Kate disappeared into her room without a word.Caitlin stood in front of her own door for a long time.Key card loose in her hand.Heart beating too loud in her ears.It wasn’t the loss. It wasn’t Maryland.It was the fact that she had spent the whole tournament trying not to need Kate — and now, when she needed her most, she wasn’t sure she knew how to ask.Her throat burned.Her hands shook.She turned around.Found herself standing in front of Kate’s door without even deciding to.She raised her hand. Knocked once.Waited.And when the door opened, Kate didn’t ask anything. Didn’t say anything.She just stepped back.Let her in.The hotel room was quiet.The kind of quiet that followed heartbreak, not violence. Not a scream. Just… the hush that came when a season ended and nothing could upend it.Caitlin stood at the window for a long time after the team got back from the arena. The lights of the city below didn’t blur or bend. She hadn’t cried yet. She didn’t know if that meant she was strong or numb.Kate didn’t push. She never did when it mattered. Just moved around the room softly, turned down the bed, peeled her jersey off like it might shatter if she pulled too hard.Eventually, Caitlin turned. Her voice didn’t crack. It just came quiet. “Will you stay with me?”Kate looked up. Just once and said, “You don’t have to carry this alone.”Caitlin’s breath hitched. Then evened. Then hitched again. “I know,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to stop trying.”Kate pulled her closer. Pressed her forehead to Caitlin’s temple. “Then let me help.”They undressed in silence.Not hurried. Not hungry.Not because they wanted to take something.But because they needed to put something down.Caitlin peeled off her jersey like it weighed more than she did. Like she was setting down every expectation, every headline, every promise she hadn't known how to keep.Kate pushed her sweats down her hips, steady and sure, even though her hands shook a little when she reached for her hoodie — the same hoodie Caitlin used to steal from her closet without asking.No one touched the light switch. The bedside lamp stayed on — soft, golden, unforgiving.It was the first time Caitlin had ever taken her clothes off without a finish line in sight.And the first time Kate had ever let someone undress without performing strength in return.There was no performance here.No seduction.No careful choreography.Only the quiet, clumsy ache of two people who had been carrying themselves alone for too long — finally, finally letting someone else take a piece of the weight.Kate stood there for a long moment, barefoot on the cheap hotel carpet, breathing slow, her hands trembling at her sides.Kate lifted her head. Found Caitlin’s eyes.And for once, she asked. Voice low. Unsteady. Honest.“Will you stay with me like this?” Kate said. "Not for s@x. Not for fixing." She swallowed hard.  “Just… skin to skin. Just us.”The rawness in her voice nearly broke Caitlin in half.Caitlin didn’t answer with words. She just nodded — small, sharp — and finished undressing.No hesitation this time. No armor.She pulled her bra over her head. Shoved her shorts down her legs.  Stood there, naked, shivering a little, but steady.Kate’s breath hitched. Not because of l@st. Because of how rare, how holy, it was to be chosen like that.Caitlin’s body felt too solid, too exposed, too real under the low golden light of the hotel lamp. She crossed her arms over her chest without thinking — half-covering herself, half-clutching at the version of herself that always knew what to do.Kate didn’t rush her.She just stood there, barefoot on the thin hotel carpet, and looked.Not at Caitlin’s body like it was something to be graded or praised.Not at the curve of her hip, or the slope of her collarbone.She looked at her.The tremble in her hands.The unspoken fear in her eyes.The incredible, brutal courage it took just to stand there and stay.Kate didn’t reach for her right away. She looked.Not at Caitlin’s scars. Not at her shape. At her. The way her chest rose like she was fighting tears. The way her mouth trembled even though she didn’t say a word.Then Kate held out her hand.“Come here.”Caitlin moved into her arms like it was the only place she’d ever belonged.They got into bed, slow and careful, like the world might crack if they moved too fast. No layers. No barriers. Just skin. Just breath. Just two girls stripped down to the truth and still here.Kate curled around her like protection and prayer. One leg between Caitlin’s, one arm around her waist, her cheek pressed to Caitlin’s collarbone. Caitlin buried her fingers in Kate’s hair, the other hand pressed over Kate’s heart.They moved toward the bed together — a slow, clumsy, breathtaking surrender.They didn’t climb into bed to f@ck. They didn’t climb into bed to fix anything.They climbed into bed because for the first time in a long time, they didn’t want to carry themselves alone.Skin against skin. Legs tangled. Breath shared.Nothing hidden. Nothing demanded. Nothing earned.Caitlin curled against Kate’s chest like she was falling into something older than language — something she had been craving her entire life without knowing what it was.Kate tucked them together like she was anchoring them both to the earth.And for a long, long time, neither of them moved.They just existed.Still.Breathing.Naked and unafraid.Caitlin whispered, “I’ve never done this before.”Kate looked down at her, eyes soft and wrecked. “What?”“Just existed. Like this. With nothing to prove. Nothing to hide.”Kate kissed her shoulder. Pressed her hand flat against Caitlin’s ribcage, feeling the small, stubborn beat of her heart against her palm."Me neither," she whispered.And that was it.That was everything.And that was it.They didn’t need to say I love you again. It was already there — in the way Kate’s fingers traced lazy circles against Caitlin’s spine, in the way Caitlin’s eyes fluttered closed and her body stayed soft.To undress wasn’t the act.To stay undressed — to remain — that was everything.And they did.Still. Tangled. Naked.Not in <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_EMAIL_ADDRESS> love.In truth.In this is who I am and I’m not afraid to let you see it.They held each other like it was a vow.And when sleep took them, it didn't escape.It was peace.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
Assistant: