Out of Bounds Ch. 02

Author's note: Thanks so much for the feedback on the last chapter!

A heads up: there's a bedroom scene early on, but it's not a steamy one. It's here because it matters to the plot, and it shows where Lauren and Nate are at. If you're here for wlw sexy times, this isn't that chapter, but I promise the slow burn is building. Thanks for sticking with Lauren.

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CHAPTER 2

Nate finds me taking the laundry down. It's mainly socks. So many of them. Some pants that didn't get the grass stains out. I'll scrub that later.

He says, "About the other night. I'm sorry."

I put down the shirt I'm holding. "Me too." We hug.  

He exhales into my hair. "I know it's hard to find time to talk about these things when we're both so busy, but-" 

"MOM."

We stay in each other's arms. If we stay still, Luna might not notice us.

"MOOOOOM!"

The screen door opens with a bang. Is someone bleeding? Is something on fire?

"MOM! DAD!" She's panting. "HAVE YOU SEEN MY WATER BOTTLE."

We stay as still as statues. I can feel Nate smirking in my hair.

Luna huffs. She marches up to us and tries to wedge herself between our bodies. It becomes a game.

While she wrestles her way in, another "MOOOOM!" comes from inside the house.

Then Noah bursts onto the porch, distraught. "I DROPPED MY CHIPS IN THE TOILET."

We laugh, and that breaks the hug. Luna's between us now. Nate gestures for Noah to come over. He does, looking a bit sad. He joins our family hug.

Nate and I smile at each other. This is parent life, never having a moment to yourself.

"I'll see if I can find it," he says and goes back into the house.

Later on, after the kids have gone to sleep, I prepare for bed myself. Nate's already in bed. He's reading a book. I glance at the front cover. 12 Rules for Living... or something like that.

After my skin care routine, I come out of the ensuite bathroom in my robe. I pull back the covers and notice he's put a microwaveable heat bag on my side of the bed. Nate always does when it gets cold. I glance at him, a crease between his eyebrows, like he gets when he's absorbed in something. God, I love him. There's something else I'd like him to be absorbed in tonight.

As I lock the bedroom door, Nate looks up. Our kids usually stay in their own beds but it's our luck that they'll suddenly come in once we've started foreplay.

"There's a thirteenth rule. Always please your wife," I say, dropping my robe. There's nothing underneath.  

He smiles and looks me up and down. He puts his book down on the bedside table.

I climb on top of him and kiss him. I know his body well. We've been together thirteen years. As I thread my fingers through his hair, I think of her, all those years ago. Her hair was long and sleek, and I was careful not to mess it up. She couldn't leave my bedroom looking like she'd just had sex. With Nate, I never have to be careful.

Focus, Lauren, I tell myself, and kiss his mouth. When he's horny, he kisses like he's hungry. She was softer, sparing with her tongue, and she understood the slow build. Nate had to learn that. And I had to learn to communicate that I needed that.  

I slide my hands over him. Usually by now there's a hardness between his legs. But there's nothing there.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

I slide down, pull off his boxers and take him in my mouth. He hardens a little, but not enough. I try for a while longer, but it becomes clear this isn't happening.

I sit up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I just..." He stares at the ceiling. "Maybe not tonight."

I roll off him onto my side of the bed. We've been married for twelve years and have two kids together. This has never happened to us before.

I pull the covers up over us both. "Do you wanna cuddle?"

He answers by rolling over and taking me in his arms. He spoons me, and soon I hear his soft snoring.

I lie there, remembering the night she couldn't come. "It's okay, Loz," she said. "I enjoyed myself anyway." We stayed in bed, talking and laughing for another hour.

A few nights later, Nate and I try again. It happens again. He's not just had an off day. But he tries to assure me. "It's not you," he says.

I don't buy it. "Is it because I told you I'm bi?"

He doesn't answer straight away. It's dark but a streetlight has gotten in through a crack in the curtains. I see his hands go up to his forehead. He sighs loudly. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I said no." He's annoyed.

"You said we'd talk about it when we were both calm." I keep my voice level. "I'm calm, Nate. It's been days."

He's quiet long enough that I think he'll pretend to be asleep.

"It bothers me," he says finally.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I keep thinking about it. About you with..." He trails off, like it's a dirty word. "You lied to me. And it's not just that-"

"I didn't lie to you, Nate," I snap. My short temper is a problem. But what the actual fuck.

He stops. I wait for the rest of the sentence. It doesn't come.

"Never mind." He gets up. "I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

He shuts the door behind him. I half expect it to slam but he shuts it extra quietly, to avoid waking the kids. I listen out for footsteps, the computer starting up, anything. All I hear is the whir of the dishwasher. A week ago, I was working up courage to tell him. Now I'm worried we're not as compatible as I thought.

The next morning I'm scoring Luna's first game of the season. The dad who was rostered on called in sick, so I said I'd do it. During the warm-up, I write the players' names on the sheet. My mind replays last night like a loop. His words: you lied to me.

The last time he slept in another room, I was pregnant with Luna. My morning sickness was terrible and I couldn't stand the smell of anything, including my husband. In my mind, I run through the other possibilities, because I didn't lie to him. Work. Stress. The kids. His mother. Those podcasts.

"Morning, parents," Jules says, walking past the group with their fold up chairs out. They greet her back.  

She walks past me and her polite smile broadens to a grin. "Morning, Loz," she says.

"Hi, Jules," I say, trying to sound brighter than I feel.  

"Is everything alright? You look tired."

"Everything's fine. Just skipped my morning coffee." It's a lie. A real one, too. I wish Nate was here to hear it.  

She nods. "Noted. Don't let Lauren skip coffee." And she heads off to the field.

On the field, Jules crouches next to Luna. She points at her clipboard, then at the goals. Luna nods with a seriousness reserved only for soccer. Jules pats her shoulder and Luna runs off with the others.

As Jules stands, my eyes drift past her thighs. Her calves are impressive too. I mean, of course they are. She plays soccer. The pink socks don't hurt. I should ask what the story is with those socks.

Then I realize I'm staring at my daughter's coach's calves, and I snap myself out of it. I glance around to see if anyone noticed. Every parent is deep in conversation. I look back at the paper in front of me and double-check the players' numbers.

It's a good game. Both teams are exhausted, and the parents on the sidelines have gone from polite clapping to screaming at ten-year-olds like it's the World Cup Final. The teams are tied 1-1 with a minute to go.

Noah appears at my elbow. "Mom, can I have some money for the snack bar?" 

"In a minute, bud," I say, without taking my eyes off the field.

"Mom -"

"Literally a minute. Fifty eight seconds now, Noah. Stay and watch. This is the exciting part." 

Luna gets the ball at midfield. She cuts around a defender, then another, and then I hear Jules' voice: "Shoot!" The ball sails through the air, clips the post, and drops into the net.

"WOOOOO! GO LUNA!" I jump up and start clapping. The scoresheet flies off the table in front of me. Kellie ducks, laughing, her phone raised. Noah has momentarily forgotten his snack bar request and claps. A dad a few feet away gives me a look. I don't care. I am unashamedly that mother.

The whistle goes. We win 2-1. The girls collapse into a screaming pile on the grass, and Luna comes out of the middle of it with her ponytail half undone, grinning straight at me. Out of everyone on that field, she looks for me first. I know it won't last. In a couple of years she'll be searching the sideline for her friends instead. I clap until my palms sting.

Jules jogs out onto the field, high-fiving every girl she can reach and herding them into a line for the handshakes with the other team.

Across the field, a woman with a short blonde bob is talking to the referee. Carol. I've collected her glares at a few games now, along with the smug look she wears whenever her kid's team wins. She's not smug today. She points at me. They both glance my way.

Jules is already heading over to find out what the fuss is about. Luna is heading towards me. She smells like sweat and cut grass, and she hits me at full speed, arms around my waist. I hold on to her longer than she'd usually let me.

"Did you see my goal?"

"I saw every second of it. Half the parking lot heard me seeing it." She laughs into my shirt. Noah piles in at my hip, and for a moment the three of us are one lump on the grass.

While this is happening, the referee walks over. But he doesn't talk to me, just collects the scoring sheets from the table next to me. "Thanks for helping out," he says, and walks away. So it's nothing, just a parent seeing what she can get away with. I decide to ignore it, which is so, so hard.

The team decides we're all going go for icecream afterwards to celebrate. I begin packing up. Useless trying to get Luna do it herself today. While I'm making trying to find a name on a jumper on the bench, Carol approaches me.  

"You were out of line today," Carol says. "Screaming like that, it was inappropriate."

Nate once told me I should have a plan for moments like this. Because every once in a while, another parent makes their opinion of me known. And I'm not gonna not say something back. I've tried, but something always slips out.  

"Thanks for the feedback, Carol," I say, smiling the way I do for Nate's boss at his work events. It's plain, mildly dismissive, and contains no swear words.

She doesn't shut up. So I pick up Luna's bag, grab my kids, and start walking. But Carol follows us. Past the snack bar, across the grass, all the way to the car. She follows and keeps yapping.

So much for being the bigger person. I'm going off script. She started it.  

"This is an entry-level kids' soccer game," I say, opening the car boot and shoving the bag in. "Why are you making such a fuss?"

"Yes, an entry-level kid's soccer game! That's my point, Laura!" She looks disgustingly pleased with herself. She knows my name is Lauren. "Your behavior is inappropriate. Quite frankly, that goal should have been reversed."

"If it bothers you that much," I say, "make sure your kid brings their A-game next time."

Noah is frozen beside me, eyes huge. Luna has stopped with her hand on the door, staring. Mom is loud, but Mom doesn't argue with other parents like this. It's just a parent. I see a few other parents and kids turning around to look.  

"Get in the car, guys," I say, hand on Noah's back, steering him towards the car door. Luna gets herself in without a word.

I'm shutting the door when Carol says, "Crazy parents like you ruin sports."

Don't say it, Lauren.   But I lower my voice anywah. In case the kids can still hear. "Have a lovely day, Carol. Now go fuck yourself."  

Her eyes go wide, as though fuck is a word she has only seen in movies up until now. "How dare you-"

"Enough." Jules is beside me, hands in her pockets. "This is a family event. Move along." 

At her height, Carol has to tip her head to glare at Jules. "This is not the last you've heard about this," Carol says, a speck of spit landing near on my car door.

Carol marches off across the grass, her bob shaking with every step, already ranting to a cluster of parents who look more confused than sympathetic. One of them glances back at me. I give a little wave.

"There's a Carol in every league," Jules says.

"And if you can't find the Carol, you're the Carol."

The back door of the car flies open. "Mooom," Noah says. "Luna's drinking your coffee."

I turn. In the back seat, Luna freezes with my travel mug halfway to her mouth.

"Luna. Hand it over." I take it from her and screw the lid on.

Jules smiles and opens her mouth, but Kellie cuts in first, jogging over. "Oh my God, Carol." She rolls her eyes. Then, more gently: "Is Nate working again?"

"Yep, as always," I say, much more casually than I feel about it. He misses all the games. She's only being kind.

"I recorded that last goal on my phone," she says, grabbing it out of her pocket. "I'll send it to you so you can show him." 

"Thanks. Luna will probably re-enact it for him, too."

That afternoon, Luna turns the backyard into a soccer field. The clothes line is the goal, Nate is defending, diving for her shots with theatrical groans, and Noah, who has appointed himself crowd, cheers from the trampoline.

I leave them to it. Noah's permission form for the zoo is due Monday, and I haven't printed it. I go in to our home office and find the computer asleep.

The computer wakes up when I touch the mouse. A box pops up in the middle of the screen: Your computer didn't shut down properly. Do you want to restore your last session?

I click yes.

The screen shows two tabs open. One of them is porn.

It takes me less than a millisecond to understand what this is. And my first thought is, the kids. Luna and Noah sometimes use this computer for homework. What if they found this first? How could Nate be this careless?

My second thought is more complicated. I'm not a prude. I've seen porn. But it's been thirteen days since I've had sex. My husband can't get it up and instead of coming to me, he turns to this.

I close the tab and open the second.  The Myth of Bisexuality.  Same article from last time. Maybe he hasn't finished it.

I want to know where he is getting these ideas from. I go into his history. It's a column of the same podcast. The Long Game with Isaac Dillon.  The thumbnail is a man in a black t-shirt with his arms crossed. I scroll down the episodes. Every guest is a man. Former football coach. Professional boxer. YouTubers. Entrepreneurs. Air Force officer turned senator.  

I've listened to the first thirty seconds of one of these, once, in the kitchen, while Nate was washing dishes. It was a man talking about discipline. I thought, Well, at least it's not crypto.

I click on one with a Retired Pastor. The episode is called Born This Way or Influenced This Way? A Straight Answer.  I think about Nate on the edge of our bed with his phone charger in his hand, telling me I listened to this podcast. His specific use of the word influenced. I don't have to listen to the episode to know it. I've already heard it.

I find the permission form and hit print. The printer in the corner grunts awake and pushes out the permission form. It's a third grade field trip to the zoo. I sign it on the desk with a pen lying in front of a photograph of Nate and our kids after Noah's first season championship game, last year. They're all grinning ear to ear.  

I shut the computer down. I make sure the screen fades to black and the little green circle dims.  

When I go back out, the match has moved to the living room. Luna is mid-replay, taking artistic license. This time the shot comes from from halfway.

"Mom! Has Kellie sent the video yet?"

I take out my phone. Kellie has sent the video with three laughing emojis.

"She has," I say.

We crowd onto the couch. The picture shakes. There's the cut around the defender, then another, Jules' voice yelling "Shoot!", the ball clipping the post. Then the camera swings and there I am, jumping out of my seat, both arms up, the scoresheet flying.

"WOOOO! GO LUNA!" I sound so extra.

"Oh my God," Luna says. "Mom is sooo embarrassing."

Nate laughs. "That's her job, Luna. Moms are supposed to be embarrassing."

"Play it in slow motion!" He does, and there's my mouth wide open, my hair flying, the scoresheet floating through the air like a bird. We watch it again. And again. By the fifth time, Noah is yelling along with me.

"Can we send it to Aunty Bel?" Luna says.

"Can the baby watch it?" Noah asks, cuddled up against Nate's side.  

"Do I have a choice?" I say, already opening up my Messages app.  

"Great idea, Luna," Nate says, grinning.  

I scroll until I find Bel. Our last messages are over a week old. The last one is a photo message. It's Bel with her head tipped back, mouth open, asleep, on the couch, and the baby over her shoulder doing the same. This one doesn't believe in sleep, unless attached to me she wrote. I responded with love hearts.  

What I really want to text is send help, Bel. It's been thirteen days. She'll know exactly what I mean. She'd give me good advice, like she always does. But this is the most sacred time of her life, being a new mother, and I'm not going to ruin it.

I type Luna's winning goal. Watch with sound on. I hit send.