Work Text:
January 2025
The first person to notice wasn’t a journalist.
It was a fan with a TikTok account and far too much free time.
They were scrolling through photos from a recent international series when they paused on one from the stands. The United States Women's National Softball Team dugout was blurred in the background, but the crowd was sharp. And in the fourth row behind first base sat a very recognizable face.
Victoria Javadi.
Sunglasses pushed into her dark hair. Laughing. Leaning toward a woman beside her.
The fan zoomed.
Then zoomed again.
The woman she was leaning toward – half turned toward her, mid-length auburn hair falling over a navy team jacket – was unmistakable.
Cassie McKay.
Captain of the national team. Four Olympic appearances. Forty years old and still the best shortstop in the game. Currently, temporarily, out of action resting a niggly rotator cuff strain.
The video went up that night.
“WAIT… IS CASSIE MCKAY DATING VICTORIA JAVADI???”
___
Cassie saw the video two days later while icing her shoulder in the locker room.
Across from her, Trinity Santos was already cackling.
“You’re trending,” Trinity announced.
Cassie didn’t even look up. “I trend every time I hit a homer.”
“Not like this.”
That got her attention. Cassie dropped the ice pack and stood up as Trinity turned her phone around. The TikTok had already hit half a million views. Comments scrolled endlessly.
WAIT THAT’S HER
No way Victoria Javadi is at a softball game randomly
GUYS LOOK AT THE SECOND PHOTO - THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS
Cassie stared.
They weren’t holding hands.
…okay, maybe they were a little. Fingers loosely intertwined. If memory serves her correctly, it was right as she was pulling back from tracing the inside of Victoria’s wrist. Cassie’s warm fingers trailing down across her open palm, fingertips interlocking before they separated again.
Cassie’s eyes flickered across the image. Victoria’s hair catching the sunbeams at just the right angle, eyes a mix of caramel and honey. Cassie could almost hear Victoria’s laughter through a photo.
“Jesus,” Cassie muttered.
From the next locker, Parker Ellis leaned over.
“You knew this was coming eventually,” she said.
Cassie sighed.
They had known.
For almost a year she and Victoria had managed to keep things mostly quiet - public, technically, but private. The occasional blurry photo. A dinner sighting. Victoria liking softball posts on Instagram, Cassie liking red carpet photos in return.
But nothing like this.
Nothing viral.
Her phone buzzed.
Victoria.
Cassie answered immediately.
“Hey.”
On the other end, Victoria sounded amused.
“So,” she said lightly. “Apparently we’re famous.”
Cassie groaned. “You’ve been famous since birth.”
Victoria laughed softly. It made something ache in Cassie’s chest. She missed her. Between Victoria shooting a feature film on location and Cassie coming of their recent tournament straight into training for the upcoming season, time spent together was currently at the mercy of scheduling – a rare, shared day off, hell, even the time to call or FaceTime each day was a hard ask sometimes.
“You okay?”
Cassie leaned her head back against the locker.
“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Just… waiting for the age gap discourse.”
There was a pause, then a sigh.
Victoria knew exactly what she meant.
________
The media caught on eventually. They always did.
A camera panned the stands one afternoon and lingered just a little too long. Victoria didn’t flinch. She smiled - small, controlled, practiced - and then looked right back at the field.
At Cassie.
The clip went everywhere.
By the time Cassie got to the locker room, her phone was blowing up.
Dude is that -
Holy shit you’re dating -
BRO???
Cassie tossed her phone into her bag and sat down hard on the bench, dragging a hand over her face.
One of her teammates grinned. “So… you gonna acknowledge that or -”
“Nope.”
“You’re literally smiling right now.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Cassie groaned. “Shut up.”
___
The discourse arrived within hours.
Sports media was mostly positive.
Legendary USA Women’s Softball captain Cassie McKay spotted with rising Hollywood actress Victoria Javadi.
Fans were curious but supportive.
Hollywood gossip blogs were… less kind.
Victoria Javadi Dating 40-Year-Old Athlete - Mentor or Midlife Crisis?
Sources question power dynamic in relationship.
Power dynamics. Really..?, Cassie thought.
As if the sight of Victoria in a sundress didn’t bring her to her knees, both emotionally and physically; never missing the opportunity to get Victoria against a wall or on the kitchen bench and duck her head under her dress. Lips trailing up ankles and calves, teeth marking between thighs, finally settling between Victoria’s legs to completely consume her. How the thought of Victoria leaving to shoot in another state made her heart ache in such a way it caused physical pain.
Cassie read exactly one article before closing the browser. By the time she got home that night, Victoria was already on her couch.
She’d let herself in with the key Cassie had given her months ago.
Victoria sat cross-legged on the couch in an oversized Team USA hoodie - Cassie’s hoodie - scrolling through her phone. She had long kicked off her shoes and pants, deciding very early that morning she was sleeping the night at Cassie’s, leaving her in sock-covered feet, her hoodie, and her underwear.
Cassie dropped her gym bag by the door before she toed off her own shoes.
“Bad?” Victoria asked.
Cassie shrugged.
“I’ve had worse press.”
Victoria studied her. Eyes heavy, shoulders more rounded than usual, strands of auburn out of place like Cassie had run her hands through one too many times in an effort to calm her nerves.
Cassie tried to look unaffected, but Victoria knew her too well by now.
After a moment Victoria set her phone aside.
“Come here.”
Cassie raised an eyebrow.
“Bossy tonight.”
“Always.”
Cassie crossed the room anyway.
Victoria reached for her hand and tugged her down onto the couch.
Cassie settled beside her, long legs stretching out across the cushions.
Victoria traced her thumb over the calluses on Cassie’s palm.
“They’re mostly attacking you,” Victoria said quietly.
Cassie snorted.
“Welcome to being the older one.”
Victoria frowned.
“That’s not fair.”
Cassie shrugged again, head dropping to rest on top of Victoria’s.
“It’s predictable.”
Victoria didn’t like predictable.
___
Predictable turned ugly a few weeks later.
Cassie tried not to read comments, but teammates showed her things occasionally - usually to laugh about them.
One night in a hotel room during a tournament, Trinity tossed Cassie her phone.
“You should see this one.”
Cassie hesitated.
Then she read.
Victoria Javadi could date any leading man in Hollywood and she’s wasting time with a 40-year-old softball player.
Cassie stared at the screen.
A softball player.
Twenty years in the sport. Olympic medals. Captain of the national team.
Reduced to that.
Trinity swore under her breath.
“People are idiots.”
Cassie handed the phone back, missing the concerned look on Trinity’s face as their hands made the exchange.
“Yeah.”
But later that night she sat alone on the balcony of the hotel room, staring out at the city lights when her phone rang, FaceTime.
Victoria.
Cassie answered immediately.
“Hey, movie star.”
Victoria sounded tired. A second later, when the video stream had buffered, Cassie could see that she looked it too. Eyes slightly duller than usual, her expressions less pronounced.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you pretend it doesn’t bother you.”
Cassie rubbed a hand over her face, vision sparkling for a second as her eyes adjusted to the pressure.
“You’re supposed to be asleep. Don’t you have a 6am call time?”
“Cass.”
Silence.
Finally, Cassie exhaled. Lungs shaking with the emotion thick in her breath.
“They keep acting like you’re settling.”
Victoria didn’t even hesitate.
“They’re wrong.”
Cassie leaned back in the chair with a sigh. Everything felt heavy.
“You could date someone your age.”
“I could,” Victoria said calmly.
“And you could date someone who isn’t constantly in tabloids.”
Cassie huffed a quiet laugh.
“Fair.”
Then Victoria’s voice softened.
“But I don’t want to.”
Cassie closed her eyes.
________
December 2023
A year before the rumours, before the viral TikToks and the think pieces about their age gap, the first domino fell on a red carpet.
It was a charity fundraiser for a foundation supporting girls’ access to youth sports. Cameras flashed along the step-and-repeat, reporters cycling through the same rotation of questions for every celebrity who walked the carpet.
When Victoria Javadi arrived, the energy shifted a little.
Not dramatically - she wasn’t the biggest star there - but people recognized her. The daughter of Hollywood legends Eileen Shamsi and Raymond Javadi, and a rising actress in her own right. Cameras clicked steadily as she smiled politely and paused for interviews.
One reporter from a sports outlet leaned forward with interest.
“You’ve been vocal about supporting women in athletics,” he said. “Is there anyone in sports who really inspired that for you?”
Victoria barely hesitated.
“Oh - absolutely,” she said. “I mean, I grew up watching Cassie McKay play. She’s been captain of the national softball team for years and she’s still competing at the highest level at forty. That kind of longevity in women’s sport is incredible.”
The interviewer smiled.
“So, she’s a hero of yours?”
Victoria laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t know if she’d want to hear me call her that,” she said, a little bashful. “But yeah. I admire her a lot. I think events like this are important because if young girls have the right support, maybe we’ll see more athletes with careers like hers - long, sustainable, respected.”
The clip was posted online later that night.
Normally it would have circulated quietly among sports fans.
But one person saw it and decided it was much funnier than inspirational.
If the first domino fell on that red carpet, the second domino fell because of Trinity Santos.
“she’s calling you old, @cassiemckay”
___
Trinity had known Victoria Javadi for years.
Not well, exactly - but well enough that their friendship lived comfortably in the internet-shaped space between acquaintances and real life.
Victoria had first followed Trinity during a charity campaign about women in sports a few years earlier. Trinity had a huge online presence - funny, sharp, politically loud when she needed to be - and Victoria liked how unapologetic she was.
They’d traded a few DMs. Jokes. Comments about movies or sports.
Trinity had given her a nickname – Crash – after a blooper reel from Victoria’s latest project was 75% her slipping over and falling down.
Occasionally they even texted.
But they’d never actually met, and they never talked about their own careers. Trinity knew Victoria was an actress, Victoria knew Trinity was a sportswoman.
Which was why Trinity nearly choked on her drink when she saw the fundraiser clip.
She recognized Victoria immediately.
And when Victoria started talking about Cassie McKay - about longevity and forty years old and admiration - Trinity grinned like a menace.
Cassie, meanwhile, was one of Trinity’s teammates on the United States Women's National Softball Team.
They weren’t just teammates.
They were the kind of teammates forged over years of road trips and tournaments and brutal summer heat - people who knew exactly which buttons to push to get a rise out of the other yet not quite crossing unspoken boundaries. They had bonded over making a career as a woman in sports, and shared vulnerability about their sexuality and dating as women in the public eye. They were friends.
So, Trinity did what Trinity always did.
She quote-retweeted the video.
“she’s calling you old, @cassiemckay”
She expected Cassie to reply.
She did not expect Victoria to panic.
___
Cassie saw the tweet during a team flight.
The cabin lights were dim, most of the players asleep, but her phone buzzed with notifications.
She opened Twitter.
Then groaned.
“Jesus, Trinity,” she muttered, throwing a sparing glance to the woman two seats over from her own, one hand heavily invested in a game of Candy Crush, the other scratching lightly into the scalp of her sleeping girlfriend on her lap – team physician Yolanda Garcia.
She watched the video.
Victoria Javadi on the red carpet, pink sparkly dress with cleavage for days, bright and articulate and clearly trying to say something thoughtful about women’s sports.
Cassie snorted when the quote about forty came up.
“Traitor,” she muttered.
Then she typed a reply.
@cassiemckay:
pretty sure she called me inspiring actually
Within minutes the tweet had thousands of likes.
Trinity responded immediately.
@UnholyTrinity
that’s a polite way to say ancient
Cassie rolled her eyes and closed the app.
She didn’t expect anything else to come of it.
___
Victoria texted Trinity before Cassie even responded publicly.
Victoria:
did you just tweet that about cassie mckay???
Trinity replied almost immediately.
Trinity:
LMAO YES
A pause.
Victoria:
i wasn’t calling her old
snitch
Trinity:
you literally said forty
Victoria:
in admiration!!
Trinity:
sure jan
Victoria groaned into her pillow.
This was exactly why she tried not to say specific numbers in interviews.
Another message from Trinity popped up.
Trinity:
relax she’ll think it’s funny
Victoria stared at the screen.
Victoria:
YOU KNOW HER???
Trinity blinked at her phone.
Right.
She’d forgotten Victoria probably assumed Trinity was just some chaotic internet personality.
Trinity:
yeah we play together lol
Victoria sat upright.
Victoria:
you play on the national team???
Trinity:
girl how did you not know this
Victoria covered her face, feeling a blush creep across her entire body as if it was lava.
She was suddenly very aware that Cassie McKay had just replied to Trinity’s tweet.
___
Across the country from the national team, Victoria Javadi was having a small crisis.
Her publicist had texted her.
You’re trending with Cassie McKay.
Victoria assumed it meant the interview clip had circulated.
Then she saw Trinity’s tweet.
Then Cassie’s reply.
Her stomach dropped. The interaction was trending.
“Oh my god,” she groaned aloud, covering her face.
She absolutely had not meant to imply Cassie was old - the opposite, actually, but Twitter wasn’t exactly known for nuance.
After ten minutes of anxious pacing around her apartment, Victoria did something slightly insane.
She opened Instagram, she searched for Cassie McKay, and she hit message.
___
Cassie had expected Trinity to keep teasing her. She had not expected a nervous DM from Victoria Javadi.
Cassie noticed the DM a few hours after it had been sent.
She was back at the training facility, stretching after practice, when her phone lit up with a text from her dad. Reading it quickly, she thumbed up to read through her older notifications, stopping short as her brain registered the name.
Victoria Javadi
The message was polite, almost painfully so. Curious, she opened it.
The message was long.
Hi - this is going to sound very strange, but I promise I’m not usually the kind of person who cold messages athletes on Instagram.
I just saw the tweets with Trinity Santos and I’m so sorry if my comment sounded like I was calling you old. I really meant it as admiration for how long you’ve stayed at the top of your sport, which is incredibly rare and honestly very inspiring.
Also, I’m sorry about Trinity’s tweet even though I realize I have absolutely no control over her.
Cassie stared at the screen, then laughed out loud. She liked the honesty, and how Victoria seemed genuinely embarrassed. Mostly though, she liked that Victoria didn’t sound like someone trying to network.
She read the message again and a moment later, she typed back.
i promise i’m not offended
trinity calls me old every day
The reply came almost immediately.
That’s reassuring.
For what it’s worth, I really am a fan.
Cassie leaned back against the wall of the locker room, smiling slightly.
appreciate the support
you coming to a game sometime?
There was a pause.
Then:
If that’s an actual invitation… yes.
Cassie raised an eyebrow.
it is now
After a few messages, Cassie asked the obvious question.
so how do you know trinity?
Victoria answered quickly.
Internet friendship.
She has a terrifying online presence.
Cassie snorted.
that’s accurate
Victoria hesitated before typing the next part.
I didn’t actually realize she played on your team.
Cassie laughed out loud in the locker room.
Across the bench, Parker Ellis glanced up from taping her wrist.
“What?”
Cassie tilted her phone toward her.
Parker read the name on the screen.
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Victoria Javadi?”
Cassie shrugged.
“She messaged me.”
Parker leaned back, impressed.
“Hollywood sliding into the DMs now, huh?”
Cassie rolled her eyes.
“She’s apologizing for Trinity bullying me on Twitter.”
Parker grinned.
“Romantic.”
Cassie tossed a roll of tape at her.
___
They started chatting after that.
At first it was sporadic and the messages were short, friendly – one message every few days. Then every few days quickly turned into every afternoon, when Cassie’s practice or game had wound up and she was decompressing at home, and when Victoria had finished on set for the day or was in the early stages of preparing for a night shoot. Evenings that slowly began stretching later into the night.
Victoria asked questions about training schedules and international tournaments, how softball seasons worked.
Cassie asked what filming a movie was actually like, the effort needed in preparation, the research and care put into developing fleshed out characters who occupied their own space.
They discovered they both stayed up too late.
That Victoria loved sports documentaries.
That Cassie had seen exactly two movies in the past five years, and both were on team flights.
Weeks passed.
One evening, Victoria sent a message around midnight.
What’s the hardest part of playing professionally this long?
Cassie stared at the question.
She typed, erased, typed again.
Honestly? People waiting for you to slow down
Victoria responded immediately
But you haven’t.
Cassie leaned back on her couch; eyes fixed on the screen.
Not yet
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then came another message.
I think that’s why people admire you so much
Cassie didn’t reply for a minute. She wasn’t used to admiration from strangers that felt… sincere. Most people treated her like a legend or a relic – Victoria seemed to see her as something else.
___
Parker and Trinity noticed the change first; because of course they did. Between the two of them, no one else knew Cassie better.
Two weeks after the DMs started, Cassie walked into the locker room smiling at her phone.
Parker watched her carefully and sent her elbow out slightly to her left, clipping the edge of Trinity’s arm. Then she spoke.
“Alright.”
Cassie glanced up.
“What?”
Parker pointed.
“You’re smiling.”
Cassie frowned slightly.
“I smile.”
“No, you don’t.”
Cassie sighed.
“Parker.”
“Who is she?” Trinity chimed in
Cassie blinked.
“Excuse me?”
Parker leaned forward conspiratorially.
“You’ve been texting someone every night for two weeks.”
Cassie hesitated. She could feel herself being stitched up.
Then she muttered,
“Victoria Javadi.”
Trinity went very still, then she burst out laughing.
“Shut up.”
Cassie rubbed the back of her neck.
“She messaged me first.”
“Oh my god.”
Parker wiped tears from her eyes.
“You’re getting flirted with by a movie star.”
Cassie groaned.
“She’s not flirting.”
Trinity just looked at her, almost as if she could see it coming.
Cassie sighed.
“…maybe a little.”
A grin spread across Trinity’s face
“Oh,” she said.
“This is going to be fun.”
___
One evening, following a particularly intense game resulting in a ball to the knee at just the right angle to be irritating, Cassie had just propped her leg up with a pillow for the night, seconds away from turning the lights off when her phone chimed.
Victoria.
The team is playing in San Diego next month, right?
Cassie smiled at her phone.
yeah
Three dots appeared.
I might come watch.
Cassie paused before replying.
i’ll leave you tickets
There was a long moment before Victoria responded.
I’d like that.
Cassie set her phone down, shaking her head slightly.
___
The first time Victoria showed up, nobody believed it was casual.
Cassie had mentioned - once, offhand, like it didn’t matter - that she was “seeing someone.” The team – bar Parker and Trinity - had assumed it meant another athlete, maybe someone from the league, maybe someone equally grounded and practical and used to long road trips and protein bars for dinner.
They were not expecting her.
Victoria showed up to the San Diego game wearing oversized sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low, like she could somehow disguise the fact that she looked like she belonged on a billboard. She quietly sat three rows up from the dugout with her two best friends, Samira Mohan and Dennis Whitaker. Legs crossed, posture effortless, like she hadn’t spent years being watched. Or maybe like she had and knew exactly how to handle it.
The three friends had met years ago, before any of them had fully broken into the spotlight. Bonding over complicated relationships with their parents, their shared intelligence and social awkwardness, and their love and drive for their passions. They’d worked together in various parings, had lived together for the first 4 years of their friendships, and been by each other’s sides as they all found the loves of their lives.
Grammy-winner Samira had met director Jack Abbott through Victoria, a chance encounter outside Victoria’s trailer when visiting her on set one day. They’d quickly started dating, had now been together three years.
Whitaker on the other hand, met Victoria on an indie project where they played opposite each other, about a month before they met Samira. It was through Samira that he had met Kim Tate, a dancer on one of Samira’s tours. Whitaker had proposed a few weeks earlier, and Kim had enthusiastically accepted.
Cassie didn’t notice her at first.
She was locked in, cleats digging into the dirt, jaw tight the way it always got when she was focused. Bottom of the third, runners on first and second, two outs. She stepped into the batter’s box, tapped the plate once, twice.
Then she glanced up.
And froze.
Just for a second - barely noticeable if you didn’t know her - but the team did know her. They saw the way her shoulders shifted, the way something soft flickered across her face before it snapped back into place.
Later, in the dugout, one of her teammates leaned over.
“Dude,” she murmured. “Is that your girlfriend?”
Cassie didn’t look. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Cassie adjusted her batting gloves, stubborn. “Just watch the game.”
But she hit a double her next at-bat, and when she slid into second, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing up again.
Victoria was clapping.
Not the polite, detached applause of someone who didn’t understand the sport - no, it was bright, delighted, proud. Like she’d just watched something incredible and needed everyone to know it.
Cassie ducked her head, but she was smiling.
___
Later that night, after the game, Victoria waited near the players’ exit.
Cassie spotted her from across the parking lot.
Victoria looked suddenly unsure as Cassie walked over slowly.
Up close, Victoria looked younger than Cassie expected, but also steadier. She supposed being subjected to reporters and red carpets, movie sets and intense productions schedules since infancy would do that to a person.
“Hi,” Victoria said.
Cassie smiled.
“Hi.”
They stood there awkwardly for a second.
Then Victoria laughed nervously.
“I swear I didn’t mean to imply you were old.”
Cassie burst out laughing.
And just like that, the tension broke.
___
They started seeing each other after that.
Quiet dinners, sometimes at Victoria’s place, sometimes at Cassie’s. Rarely, they’d go out to a restaurant, preferring the intimate company of each other and navigating the kitchen together.
Games. Local ones where Victoria’s friends would come too. Away games where Victoria would sit further back, cap and sunglasses on. Always hanging back to see Cassie after the game had long finished and the crowds had cleared out.
By the second game, the team was invested.
Victoria showed up again - this time without the sunglasses, like she’d given up on hiding. She wore one of Cassie’s jerseys, slightly too big, sleeves rolled, the fabric tucked just enough to look intentional.
It was worse than the sunglasses.
“Okay,” another teammate whispered. “I’m obsessed with her.”
“Don’t be weird,” Cassie muttered, even as her ears went pink.
“She’s literally sitting there in your jersey.”
Cassie risked a glance.
Victoria caught it instantly. She always did.
She lifted a hand in a small wave, lips curving like it was a private joke between them.
Cassie looked away so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.
“Shut up,” she said, to no one in particular.
___
Victoria learned the game quickly.
At first, she asked questions - quiet ones, leaning toward whichever teammate happened to be closest when Cassie was in the field.
“What does that mean?”
“Why did everyone groan just then?”
“Is that good or…?”
But she paid attention. She remembered. By the third or fourth game, she was calling things out under her breath before they happened, tension coiling in her shoulders with every pitch.
She started to feel it the way they did.
And Cassie noticed.
God, she noticed.
Between innings, she’d glance up and see Victoria leaning forward, elbows on her knees, completely locked in. Or standing when the count got full. Or pressing her lips together when Cassie missed a swing, like she physically felt it.
It did something to her.
Something warm and sharp and almost unbearable.
___
As their relationship developed, so did their shared circle.
Double dates that fell into natural friendships.
With Trinity and Yolanda, they ended back at Victoria or Trinity’s, Yolanda working on Cassie’s shoulder whilst Victoria and Trinity filmed a video collab together. When Samira would swing by Cassie’s because that afternoon was the only time for her and Vic to see each other this month, Jack meeting them after work with pizza and ice cream – an afternoon catch up extending into the evening, two couples safe from the spotlight to just be with their partners. Cassie loved to watch Victoria and Jack discuss their work.
What made you decide to play her with that raw, vulnerable strength, rather than leaning more towards a hardened intensity?
Talk me through your thinking behind this shot – reacting with the characters rather than reacting to them, that’s just genius.
Cassie could see the admiration Victoria had for Jack, both professionally and as the man who captured and protected her best friend’s heart. Watching how Jack held Victoria almost in awe, her talent far beyond her age.
Long conversations. Cassie opening up about her history with substance abuse, her recovery, expecting Victoria to pull away and second guess. Not expecting when she looked down that she would be met with what she could only describe as absolute pride and adoration in Victoria’s eyes. Victoria similarly shared her pressures growing up as the only child of a Hollywood power couple and the expectation she continues a legacy greater than their own, and how her mother made her views of Victoria’s sexuality very clear and publicly known.
At first Cassie tried to treat it casually.
But one night Parker caught her staring at her phone again.
“Okay,” Parker said.
Cassie sighed.
“What now?”
Parker crossed her arms.
“You like her.”
Cassie looked down.
“Yeah.”
Parker studied her carefully.
Cassie rarely admitted things like that.
“And?” Parker asked.
Cassie shrugged.
“She’s twenty-six.”
Parker snorted.
“So?”
Cassie shook her head.
“She’s young. Famous. Hollywood.”
“And?”
Cassie hesitated.
“I’m a forty-year-old softball player.”
Parker rolled her eyes.
“You’re the best forty-year-old softball player in the world.”
Cassie gave a quiet laugh.
“That’s not the point.”
Parker softened slightly.
“Does she make you happy?”
Cassie didn’t even hesitate.
“Yeah.”
Parker nodded.
“Then stop overthinking it.”
Cassie leaned back against the bench, thoughtful.
Across the city, Victoria was lying on her couch staring at her phone.
Cassie had just texted her.
dinner tomorrow?
Victoria smiled softly.
I’d love that
Neither of them realized yet that within a year the entire internet would know about them.
For now, it was just two people.
A softball captain nearing the twilight of her career.
And an actress still trying to prove she belonged.
Finding each other in the quiet space between fame and normal life.
___
January 2025
Victoria’s problem wasn’t the public.
It was her parents.
They had dinner at the Javadi house in Los Angeles two months after the relationship went viral.
The house was enormous.
Cassie hated it immediately. It was all harsh lines and devoid of colour. White marble floors, white walls, white exterior. The only colour was the gold and metallic of awards and accolades achieved over the years, proudly on display.
At the head of the table sat Victoria’s father, Raymond Javadi, a legendary director with a reputation for intensity.
Beside him was Victoria’s mother, Eileen Shamsi, an award-winning actor whose gaze could make seasoned reporters nervous.
Cassie had faced Olympic finals.
This felt worse.
Dinner was polite.
Too polite.
Until Raymond set down his wine glass.
“Victoria,” he said evenly, “have you considered the optics of this relationship?”
Cassie’s shoulders stiffened.
Victoria didn’t look surprised.
“I have.”
Raymond gestured vaguely.
“You’re a young actress building a career. Public perception matters.”
Eileen added gently, “Leading men open doors in this industry.”
Cassie went very still.
Victoria’s voice sharpened.
“I’m not dating someone for networking.”
“That’s not what we’re saying,” Eileen said.
It absolutely was. The Shamsi-Javadi pair lived and breathed networking. Cassie knew from stories Victoria had shared that her childhood birthday parties included more directors, producers, and studio executives than children her own age. The children who were in attendance were primarily the children of the adults invited.
Cassie pushed her chair back slightly.
“If this is about my career-”
Victoria’s hand caught her wrist under the table.
“Cassie.”
Cassie stopped.
Victoria turned to her parents.
“I’m dating her because I love her.”
The room went quiet.
Cassie blinked.
Victoria hadn’t said that out loud before.
Not like that.
Not in front of anyone.
Raymond sighed.
“You’re young.”
Victoria smiled thinly.
“I’m twenty-six, not twelve.”
Dinner promptly ended after that. The car ride back to Cassie’s was one taken in silence. Fear radiating from Cassie, pre-emptively accepting that Victoria would no longer want to continue this, them, after her parents’ biting words. Anxiety pouring out of Victoria, that Cassie would want to run after meeting her parents when she realised they were right.
___
The first time Cassie saw Victoria’s parents soften was months later.
It happened at a game. Victoria had insisted they come, Cassie hadn’t expected them to actually show up.
But midway through the third inning, Cassie glanced into the stands.
And there they were.
Raymond Javadi. Eileen Shamsi. Sitting beside Victoria.
Watching.
Cassie stepped up to the plate.
Two runners on base.
The pitcher wound up.
Cassie swung.
The crack of the bat echoed through the stadium.
The ball sailed over left field.
Home run.
The stadium erupted.
Cassie jogged the bases, heart pounding.
When she crossed home plate she looked up at the stands again.
Victoria was on her feet, cheering.
Beside her, her parents were clapping.
Not politely.
Proudly.
Cassie smiled despite herself.
Later, in the tunnel under the stadium, Victoria tackled her in a hug.
“You were incredible.”
Cassie laughed breathlessly.
“You say that every game.”
“Because it’s always true.”
Cassie glanced past her.
Victoria’s parents were approaching.
Raymond extended a hand.
“Hell of a swing.”
Cassie shook it, surprised.
“Thanks.”
Eileen smiled.
“You understand pressure,” she said quietly.
Cassie nodded.
“Comes with the job.”
Eileen glanced between them.
Then she said something Cassie didn’t expect.
“Take care of our daughter.”
Cassie looked at Victoria.
Victoria squeezed her hand.
“Always,” Cassie said.
___
A few weeks later, Cassie posted a photo.
Just one.
Victoria sitting in the dugout after a game, wrapped in Cassie’s team jacket, smiling at the camera.
The caption was simple.
“My lucky charm.”
The internet exploded again.
But this time the comments were different.
Okay they’re actually adorable.
The way Cassie looks at her though???
Age gap who??? Let them be happy.
Cassie showed the comments to Victoria later that night.
Victoria grinned.
“See?”
Cassie slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“Still think you should be dating a leading man?”
Victoria tilted her head.
“Are you kidding?”
She kissed her softly.
“I already am.”
___
August 2026
The stadium was louder than Cassie remembered.
Or maybe it just felt that way.
Every Olympic cycle had its own energy - its own pressure - but this one sat heavier in her chest. Not because she didn’t trust herself. Not because she didn’t trust her team. But because she knew, in a way she hadn’t let herself fully admit before, that this might be the last time.
Forty-two.
Another year on the body. Another year of people asking when she’d stop.
Cassie adjusted her glove, rolling her shoulder once - careful, measured. The rotator cuff held. It always did when it mattered.
Across the diamond, the crowd rippled.
Flags waving. Voices rising.
And somewhere in that sea of people -
She found her.
Victoria Javadi.
No attempt to hide this time.
No baseball cap pulled low. No oversized sunglasses shielding her from recognition.
Victoria sat front row, flanked by Samira and Whitaker, wearing a Team USA jersey - Cassie’s number stitched across the back.
Her hair was pulled into a loose braid. Sunglasses perched on her head. Face open, bright, completely unguarded.
Proud.
Cassie felt it like a steadying force in her chest.
___
It was strange, sometimes.
The way things had changed.
Victoria’s career had only exploded in the last year. Award nominations. Leading roles. Magazine covers. Headlines that no longer introduced her as the daughter of Eileen Shamsi and Raymond Javadi, but as something entirely her own.
And still -
She showed up.
To games. To training camps when she could. To quiet nights at Cassie’s place where takeout containers sat forgotten on the counter while they talked about everything and nothing.
And now here.
At the Olympics.
Front row.
No hesitation.
No apology.
Just… there.
___
“McKay!”
Cassie snapped back to the present.
Parker Ellis jogged past her, tossing the ball lightly between her hands.
“You with us?”
Cassie smirked.
“Always.”
Parker followed her line of sight into the stands.
Then grinned.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “Definitely with us.”
Cassie rolled her eyes, but she didn’t look away.
___
The game blurred the way big games always did.
Moments folding into each other.
The sharp crack of the bat.
The burn in her legs as she pivoted, threw, moved.
Instinct taking over where thought would only slow her down.
By the seventh inning, the score was tight.
Too tight.
Two outs. Runner on second.
Cassie stepped up to the plate.
The stadium held its breath.
She rolled out her shoulders and adjusted her grip.
The pitcher wound up.
Time slowed.
And for just a second -
Cassie let herself feel it.
The years.
The weight.
The noise.
And then -
She let it go.
The swing was clean. Her shoulder held. The movement was perfect.
The ball sailed, pushing, deep.
The crowd erupted before it even cleared the fence.
Home run.
___
By the time Cassie crossed home plate, the stadium was on its feet.
Her teammates swarmed her - shouting, laughing, pulling her into something loud and electric and overwhelming.
But even in the chaos, she looked up.
Victoria was already standing.
Hands over her mouth.
Eyes shining.
Not composed. Not curated. Not the polished actress the world knew.
Just… hers.
___
Later, much later, after the interviews and the medals and the endless noise, Cassie finally made it out of the tunnel.
The air outside was cooler.
Quieter.
Victoria was waiting.
Of course she was.
Cassie barely had time to drop her bag before Victoria was in her arms.
“You were unbelievable,” Victoria said, voice breathless against her shoulder.
Cassie laughed softly.
“You say that every game.”
Victoria pulled back just enough to look at her.
“Because it’s always true.”
Cassie shook her head, smiling.
“You’re biased.”
“Obviously.”
Cassie reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair back from Victoria’s face.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” she said quietly.
Victoria frowned.
“Are you kidding?”
She gestured vaguely back toward the stadium.
“This is history.”
Then softer -
“You’re history.”
Cassie huffed a quiet laugh.
“Careful. That sounds like you’re calling me old again.”
Victoria groaned.
“Cassie -”
Cassie kissed her before she could finish.
It wasn’t subtle.
It wasn’t private.
And for once -
They didn’t care.
___
Somewhere behind them, a camera clicked.
Another moment captured.
Another headline waiting to happen.
But this time, it didn’t feel like something to brace against.
It felt like something to stand in.
___
Later that night, a photo started circulating online.
Cassie McKay on the field, gold medal around her neck. Arms looped around Trinity and Parker, but eyes locked on a figure above.
Victoria Javadi in the stands, hands raised mid-cheer, Cassie’s jersey bright against the crowd.
The caption was simple.
“From fan to forever.”
And for once -
The comments didn’t argue.
They didn’t question.
They just understood.