You are a published author. You are a writer of drafts. You understand the mechanics of a beginning, the sudden, violent spark of it, the way you can set a page on fire with just a single glance under a streelamp. And you understand endings, because they are neat. You can sweep up the ashes of a tragedy, polish the final sentences until they gleam with a bitter, beautiful symmetry, and walk away clean.

But the middle is where the ink puddles. The middle is just hard.

When the morning light filters through the tall, shuttered windows of your apartment, it doesn’t arrive with a dramatic swell of music. It doesn’t slide across the floorboards like a cinematic spotlight. It just comes in grey and quiet, smelling faintly of the bakery down the street and the damp stone of the alleyway below.

Beside you, Alexia is sleeping.

To look a her in the quiet of a Tuesday morning is to look at something fixed and solid. There are no metaphors in the way she occupies a bed. She lies on her stomach, one arm draped over the edge of the mattress, her shoulder blades rising and falling with a slow heavy rhythm, a tide that comes and goes without needing my permission. Her skin is warm, smelling of your soap she used to wash away the sweat of yesterday’s double training session. There is a faint fading bruise on the side of her calf and the sight of it makes something tight and anxious squeeze behindyour ribs.

You slide out from under the sheets, careful not to let the frame creak.

In the kitchen, the kitchen tiles are cool under your bare feet. You don’t turn on the overhead lights, you prefer the dim, half-shadows of the early morning. You boil water in the copper kettle, watching the steam rise and vanish against the dark tiles. This is the part of the day you like best, the blank page of it.

You pull a small, square slip of heavy paper beneath a stack of unread mail on the counter. It is a habit you started months ago, back when the beginning was still fresh and easy. You uncap your fountain pen and write in your small untidy script: I love you. Come back soon.

You walk into the hallway, where Alexia’s training bag sits zipped and waiting by the door. It is massive thing, smelling of leather, grass and athletic tape. You unzip th eside pocket, slip the note inside beside her shin pads, and zip it shut.

It is a beautiful gesture. You know exactly how it plays out in your head. She will find it in the locker room, her fingers unfolding the paper while the coach shouts instructions in the background. It is a scene from a book.

But as you stand there in the quiet hallway, staring at the black nylon bag, the familiar cold draft of panic creeps in.

You look back toward the bedroom. Alexia is still sleeping. She is thirty-two years old, the captain of her club, a woman whose entire existence is built on a foundation of physical reality, sweat, and relentless daily repetition. She does not live in the subtext. She does not read between the lines. If she is tired, she sleeps, if she is hurt, she ices it.

And you? You are a ghost who lives in her own head, constantly rewriting conversations the two of you haven’t even had yet.

You stare at your hands. You feel a sharp wave of imposter syndrome so heavy it makes your chest ache. What am I doing here? you think. How long until she realizes that I am just a collection of clever phrases and dramatic exits? How long until she gets bored of the quiet?

To a writer, a quiet middle feels like a dead draft. And as you stand there in the grey morning light, the terrifying urge to set something on fire, just to see how beautifully it would burn, flickers to life in your chest.

The floorboards in the hallway are cold beneath your arches as you retreat from her training bag, feeling less like an equal partner and more like athief who has slipped into her life while the guards are down. You return to the kitchen, where the kettle has begun to hiss, a low mechanical whistle that cuts through the sleepy silence of the apartment.

You pour the boiling water over the coffee grounds. You watch them bloom, dark and foaming, breathing in the rich, earthy scent. It is grounding ritual, but your mind refuses to ground itself. Instead, it drifts, pulling you backward into the archive of your own memories, comparing the quiet stillness of this kitchen tot the roaring chaotic nights where you first felt her pull.

You find yourself staring at the empty space at the end of the kitchen table. It is made of thick pale oak, scarred with the faint rings of water glasses and ink stains from your pens.

“You’re awake early.”

The voice is low, raspy with sleep, scraping pleasantly against the quiet of the room.

You turn. Alexia is leaning against the doorframe, her hair a sleep mussed halo of honey-brown, her shoulder draped in an oversized blue sweatshirt that bears the faded Barça crest. She is rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the heel of her palm, her movements are slow and free of the performative grace you constantly find yourself projecting onto her.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say, your voice automatically adjusting to the soft, hushed register of the morning. “I tried to be quiet.”

“You were,” she says, her voice still rough. She offers a small smile that doesn’t quite open her eyes all the way. “But the bed gets cold when you leave it.”

She walks toward you, her bare feet making no sound on the tile. There is an ease to the way she moves, a physical confidence that comes from knowing exactly where her body begins and ends in space. When she reaches you, she doesn’t make a grand gesture. She simply leans her weight against your side, her shoulder pressing into yours, her warmth immediately cutting through the chill of your bare skin.

She reaches past you to grab a clean cup from the shelf.

“Coffee?” you ask, reaching for the press.

“Please,” she murumers, leaning her chin against your shoulder for a brief second. She breathes in, her chest expanding against your back. “You smell like the rain.”

“It’s damp outside,” you say, looking out the window at the grey cobblestones of the street below. “I think the storm is coming back.”

“Good,” she says, pouring a splash of oat milk into her cup. “We have video analysis this morning. It’s better to be inside when it pours.”

You watch her take her first sip, her eyes closing as the warmth hits her. This is her, this is the woman who stands under the glaring stadium lights, her name chanted by thousands of voices, her face plastered on billboards across the city. Yet, here she is, blinking at the morning light, her thumb tracing hte rim of a chipped mug, completely content with the silence.

She doesn’t need you to entertain her. She doesn’t need you to write a poem about the way the light hits her coffee. She just wants to drink it with you.

“What are you writing today?” she asks, nodding toward the closed leather notebook sitting on the edge of the counter.

Your throat tightens. The question is innocent, a genuine interest in your world, but it feels like a spotlight you don’t want right now.

“Just some ideas,” you lie, your fingers curling inward. “Nothing finished. Just… drafts.”

Alexia looks at you with a steady gaze. There is a quiet intelligence in her eyes that always catches you off guard. People think she is all physical instinct, but they don’t see the way she reads a room, the way she watches the subtle shifts in your posture. She knows you are hiding behind your words.

“Don’t work too hard,” she says softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. Her fingers are warm, the tips slightly rough. “You look like you’re already fighting with the page.”

“I am always fighting with the page,” you whisper.

“Well, she says, offering a soft, parting squeeze to your shoulder as she turns back toward the hallway. “Try to let it win for once. It’s probably easier that way.”

She walks away, leaving you alone in the kitchen once more, the taste of lukewarm coffee on your tongue, staring at the empty space beside you. The draft is still open, the middle has begun, and you have no idea how to write your way out of it.

Under the soaring medieval arches, the light is gold and suffocating, bouncing off the polished marble floors and the heavy, gilded frames of paintings that have watched centuries of Barcelona’s elite pretend to be interested in one another.

It is a gala night, a celebration of victories and silverware, and you are standing at the edge of the room with a glass of champagne you have no intention of drinking. The bubbles rise and pop against the rim of the glass, a tiny, frantic rhythm that matches the thrum of the crowd. Everywhere you look is noise. The clink of crystal, the sharp, rapid fire Catalan of executives, the low hum of laughter, and, above it all, the blinding pop o f the photographers’ flashbulbs near the entrance.

And there she is, the gravity of the room pulling everyone toward her, whether she wants them there or not.

She is wearing a dark, custom tailored suit that hugs the broad, athletic line of her shoulders, her hair is pinned up in a way that exposes the sharp clean line of her jaw. She is playing th e captain. She is smiling the precise, practiced smile she keeps reserved for sponsors and dignitaries, her head tilting politely as a man in a brown three-piece suit gestures expansively with a wine glass. But you know her, you have spent enough time watching her to see the tiny telltale signs of her exhaustion, you see the way her fingers twitch against the seam of her trousers, you see the faint, almost imperceptible tension in her temples every time a camera flashes close to her face. She is a creature of open grass and chilly mornings, in this gilded cage, she is slowly running out of air.

She catches your eye across the crowded floor. It is a fraction of a second, a quiet, desperate SOS sent over a sea of black ties and silk dresses.

You don’t think. You set your champagne glass down on a passing tray. You tap your phone screen, letting a meaningless notification light up, your prop, your evidence, and step into the light.

The man in the brown suit looks at you, his eyes scanning your silk dress with the brief, polite curiosity reserved for unintroduced guests. He doesn’t know your face, but Alexia does. The moment your voice cuts throught heir conversation, her professional posture slips. Just a fraction. It is a quiet melting of her shoulders that only someone who watches her as closely as you do would notice.

“Excuse me,” you say, offering the man a polite, apologetic smile as you briefly gesture with the glowing screen of your phone. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Patricia just messaged me. There’s an urgent call from the press office, and she asked if I could find you.”

It is a flawless performance. You use the press officer’s name because you’ve heard Alexia complain about her scheduling over late-night salmon and rice. The man in the brown suit blinks, assuming you are a mutual friend doing a favor, but Alexia doesn’t hesitate for a second. She knows Patricia hasn’t texted. She knows exactly what you are doing.

“Of course,” she says, her voice steady and professional as she nods to him. “Please excuse me.”

You turn, and she follows. But you don’t lead her toward the press room. Instead you navigate the corridor toward the back of the building where the air grows cooler and the noise of the gala begins to muffle behind heavy oak doors. You find the service exit and push it open.

The shock of the cool night air hits you like a physical hand, instantly washing away the suffocating heat of the hall. It is October, and the Barcelona sky has been threatening to break all evening. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, the first heavy fat drops of the rain begin to fall, dark spots blooming on the dry cobblestones of the alleyway.

“The press officer?” Alexia asks, her voice dropping its public resonance, returning to the low, quiet register you know so well. She is leaning against the wall of the alley, her shoulders dropping three inches as she lets out a long, shuddering breath.

“I lied,” you say, turning to face her. The rain is picking up, a steady whispering hiss that fills the narrow space between the old buildings. “You looked like you were about to drown in there.”

She looks at you, her eyes dark and wide in the dim light of a single iron-bracketed streetlamp. A small genuine laugh huffs from her chest, the sound rich and warm. “Iwas,” she admits. She reaches up, pulling the pins from her hair with a sigh of relief, letting the brunette waves fall around her shoulders. “I really was. Thank you.”

“We should find somewhere to hide,” you say, gesturing to the sky. The rain has turned into a sudden, violent downpour, the kind of autumn storm that cleanses the city in minutes, turning the narrow streets into rushing, slick rivers of water. “Before we’re completely ruined.”

You don’t move though. You want to stay in the downpour, wanting the scene to be saturated and beautiful, the contrast of her dark suit against the wet, ancient stone, the golden reflection of the streetlamps in the puddles. You are already writing the version of this night where you linger until you are both shivering. It is a beautiful scene, and you are afraid that as soon as you step out, the magic will evaporate.

“Wait,” you say, your voice catching. You don’t just want to walk, you want to arrive there. You want the drama of it. “Don’t walk, run.”

Alexia looks at you, surprised, but then she catches the intensity in your eyes. She doesn’t ask why. She just laughs and reaches for your hand.

“Okay,” she says, her grip firm and warm. “Run.”

You bolt, pulling her into the rain.

The water is freezing, soaking through your thin silk dress and her heavy wool jacket in seconds. You laugh, a breathless wild sound that echoes off the stone walls of the narrow streets as your heels scrape slickly against the wet cobblestones. Alexia is running beside you, her long, powerful strides effortless even in her formal shoes, her laughter joining yours, free and unburdened by the weight of expectations or captains’ armbands. For these few blocks, she is not the icon. She is just a girl running through a storm with you.

You turn a corner, sliding slightly on the wet stone, and pull her under the deep arched awning of a small bakery. The air under the alcove smells of cold brick, rain and the faint, sweet ghost of yeast and vanilla from the ovens inside.

You collapse against the dark wooden door of th eshop, gasping for air, your wet hair plastered to your cheeks. Alexia stands right in front of you, just inches away, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her suit is soaked, the dark fabric clinging to her shoulders, and water is dripping from the tips of her hair, running down her neck and disappearing into the collar of her white shirt. She looks so undone, so real. And entirely breathtakingly beautiful.

“You are completely crazy,” she pants, but her lopsided smile is the wides you have ever seen it. She reaches up, wiping a stream of rainwater from her eyes, her gaze locked on yours.

“You’re welcome,” you say, your voice trembling slightly, not from the cold, but from the sheer suffocating weight of the moment. This is it. The perfect light, the perfect shelter, the quiet hum of the rain-washed city surrounding you like a curtain.You are directing this. You are writing the lines before they leave your mouth.

“I love you,” you say.

The words are quiet, but they cut through the sound of the rain with absolute terrifying clarity. You deliver them with the precise, practiced sincerity of a protagonist in a final act, waiting for the perfect beat of silence that follows.

Alexia freezes. The laughter dies in her throat, her eyes searching yours with an intense seriousness that makes your breath catch. For a second, you panic, wondering if you have misread the script, if you have pushed too far, too fast.

But then she steps closer, closing the small distance between you until the heat radiating from her body warms your wet skin. She doesn’t offer a clever reply. She doesn’t say a beautiful, poetic line back to you. She doesn’t have to.

She reaches out, her hand wrapping around the back of your neck, her thumb resting against your jawline. Her touch is heavy. She pulls you to her, her lips meeting yours with a quiet intensity that tastes of rain and salt.

It is not a cinematic kiss. It is clumsy, your teeth clinking slightly in the dark, your wet clothes pressing cold against each other. But her grip on your neck is fierce, anchoring you to the wet stone beneath your feet, pulling you out of your head and into the physical world. She is holding you so tightly you can feel the steady, powerful thud of her heart against your own chest.

When she finally pulls back, barely breaking the contact, her forehead rests against yours. Her breath is warm against your lips.

“I know, she whispers, her voice rough, her eyes closed as she breathes you in. “I love you too.”

And as you stand there in the dark, wet alcove, wrapped in her warmth and her silence, you feel a terrifying thrill. You have written a masterpiece. You have set the page on fire, and you are certain, in this beautiful, wet beginning, that the flame will never go out.

Your closed laptop sits on the pale oak dining table like a heavy black accusation. It has been sitting there in the exact same position for three days, unopened, a monument to the blank pages you are currently failing to fill.

You know that if you do not find a spark of something, some friction, some heat, some sudden jolt of electricity to kickstart your brain, you will not write a single sentence today.

The door to the bedroom creaks open.

Alexia steps into the hallway, but she is no longer the sleep-mussed, soft-eyed girl who leaned her weight against your shoulders ten minutes ago. She is already halfway into her other skin. She wears her dark training tights, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that shaprens the angles of her face, and her training bag is already slung over her shoulder. The transformation is always startling, the way she can tuck her vulnerability away, zipped up and stored somewhere private, the moment the sun begins to rise.

“You’re leaving?” you ask. Your voice sounds smaller than you want it to, flat and dry in the kitchen.

“I have to,” she says, checking her wrist. It is a digital athletic watch, a tool meant for counting seconds, tracking paces and measuring heart rates. “If I don’t leave in five minutes, the traffic will make me late, and Pere doesn’t tolerate late.”

She sets her bag down by the door, the nylon making a dull thud against the wood floorboard. She walks over to the counter, taking a quick sip of her lukewarm coffee. She does it standing up. She is already in motion, her body primed for a day of explosive output, her muscles coiled and ready.

“The rain is starting,” you say, gesturing toward the window. The sky has finally broken, and a steady grey drizzle is beginning to paint the streets in shades of wat slate. “It’s beautiful. We should do something with it.”

Alexia blinks, her mind clearly trying to pull itself out of whatever tactical analysis she is running for the morning. She looks at you, her eyes steady but distant. “With the rain?”

“Let’s drive out to the coast tonight,” you say, stepping closer, wanting to pull her into a script of your own making. You can feel the dialogue building in your throat, smooth and tempting. “We can leave our phones in the glove box. We’ll walk along the beach in the dark and let the storm soak us. No schedules, no captain’s duties. Just us, completely off the grid. Doesn’t that sound like something we used to do?”

It is a beautiful pitch. You deliver it with a slight, playful smile, your voice carrying the soft, romantic cadence of a promise. You are waiting for her to laugh, to lean in, to let the spark catch. You want her to choose the poetry over the prose.

Instead, Alexia sighs. It is not an angry sound, just a heavy release of air that tastes of physical fatigue.

She pulls her phone from her pocket, she unlocks it, taps the screen and turns it toward you.

The screen is dominated by a grid of tightly packed, brightly colored blocks. Her calendar. It is a terrifyingly structured map of her life, divided into neat, unyielding fifteen minute blocks. Blue for training, green for physical therapy, red for sponsor, commitments, yellow for tactical reviews. There are no blank spaces. There is no room for a spontaneous drive to the coast. There is no margin for error.

“I can’t,” she says gently. “I have video analysis and training today. Then I have a media session at three, and after that, I have to meet with the medical staff to check my calf. By the time I get home tonight, it will be nine and I have to be asleep by ten-thirty to do it all over again tomorrow.”

The words are reasonable. They are the logical, professional reality of her life. But to your ears, they sound like a sentence. They sound like the ticking of a clock that is slowly running out of battery.

“It’s just a walk, Ale,” you say, your voice dropping its warmth, turning cool and dry. “Just an hour. You can’t budget an hour for us?”

“I am budgeting an hour,” she says, her eyes locking onto yours with that direct intensity that always makes you feel exposed. She does not look away, nor does she blink. “I am here now, I am having coffee with you. But I cannot change my calendar because you want to go to the beach in a storm.”

The simple logic of her response stings. It cuts right through your artistic sensibilities, reducing your romantic gesture to the status of a childish whim, a distraction to be managed.

“I don’t want to just have coffee like we’re business partners scheduling a meeting,” you say, stepping back, putting a deliberate distance between your body and hers. “I want to feel like we’re alive. I want to feel the heat of things. Before we become… this.”

Alexia looks at you for a long, quiet moment. The rain beats against the glass of the window, the only sound in the sudden tense quiet of the kitchen. She doesn’t get angry, she doesn’t raise her voie. She has spent her entire life under the pressure of packed stadiums and relentless media scrutiny. Your quiet dramatic withdrawal does not shake her.

“This is alive,” she says softly, setting her empty mug down on the counter. “The quiet mornings are alive. The routine is alive. I love you, but I have a job to do. And I need you to let me do it without making me feel guilty for having one.”

She walks toward the door, the movement efficient and practiced as she lifts the heavy training bag and swings it over her shoulder. She stops in the hallway, her hand on the brass doorknob, looking back at you standing alone by the counter.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she says.

She doesn’t wait for your reply. The door clicks shut behind her, the lock sliding into place with a final sound that echoes through the empty apartment.

You are left alone in your kitchen, the grey light of the storm illuminating the empty space she left behind.

You look down at your closed laptop. After a minute, you reach out and open the lid. The screen wakes up, casting a pale, clinical blue light across your face, highlighting the pristine, blinking line of the cursor on the blank white document.

SOFIA

I folded another cover-up, placing it at the top of my suitcase, but the whole time I couldn't help but be hyper aware of Alexia's presence behind me. She was sprawled across my bed, one arm tucked under a pillow, her head lying on it as she watched me with those warm hazel eyes that made my stomach feel fuzzy.

In the early summer, late evening light filtered through my Barcelona apartment windows, casting everything in that golden hour glow that felt almost too romantic for what we were. Whatever we were.

"You're taking too many clothes; you're only going for two nights," Alexia said in that accented English she knew I loved. Ever since I let slip that I liked it, she'd been using it more and more despite the usual Catalana we spoke in.

"You don't understand," I replied, holding up two nearly identical dresses. "Callie and I have a very specific aesthetic we're going for."

She laughed. A genuine laugh that I'd become addicted to over the past two seasons. "For Mallorca? You're going to the beach, no?"

"Something like that." I wasn't being deliberately vague; it just hadn't come up, and it felt weirdly childish to say it out loud.

The Love Island thing felt silly to explain, like admitting I was still the same girl who'd grown up glued to the telly every summer, watching beautiful people couple up and recouple in a villa that might as well have been on another planet.

It started as something Callie started watching, and because she was my cool older sister, not that I would ever admit that, I also wanted to watch it. Over the years, it became less of something we wanted to watch and more of something we needed to watch every summer. Even when we'd both moved away at nine o'clock every day, the TV was ready, and so was FaceTime, ready to watch and debrief shitty reality TV.

Except now we weren't going to watch it, we were going to actually see it. My love for this show was no secret, and when the PR time reached out asking if I wanted to have a tour of the villa before the new season ... I don't think I could have said yes fast enough.

Alexia shifted on the bed, and I heard the rustle of my duvet. "Come here," she said softly.

I abandoned my packing, because I had an incredibly big soft spot just for her. That was the problem, wasn't it? I was completely gone for her, and she had no idea. Or maybe she did, and this was just how she wanted things to be. Comfortable, easy, and undefined.

I crawled onto the bed beside her, and she immediately pulled me into her side, her arm wrapping around my shoulders like it belonged there.

"You'll miss me?" she asked, and there was something playful in her voice, but also something else. Something I didn't dare read too much into.

"It's two days, Ale." I laughed.

"That's not an answer."

I tilted my head up to look at her. Her hair was still damp from the shower she'd taken after we'd made dinner together. There was a small smile playing at her lips, and I wanted to kiss her so badly it physically hurt.

"Of course I'll miss you," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "Who else is going to send me random videos even though they are sitting right next to me?"

"Sof..." She said my name in a sigh, and then her hand came up to cup my face with her thumb brushing across my cheekbone. My breath is getting caught in my throat.

This was the worst part of everything; just how tender she was with me in the little moments. I could handle the casual hookups, the nights that felt like they meant nothing, but when she looked at me like this, touched me like I was something precious, it made me believe in possibilities that I knew would never really exist.

Her thumb hooked under my chin as she pulled me in for a kiss. She kissed me slowly, which quickly deepened, and I let myself sink into it. Let myself pretend that this meant what I wanted it to mean. Her lips were soft and familiar, lips that I had unfortunately grown to want more than I should. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against mine.

"Have fun with Callie, I know how much you miss her." she whispered.

That was Alexia, wasn't it? Thoughtful. Kind. Perfect in every way that made this situationship both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to me.

We stayed like that for a while, curled up together in my bed. Her fingers were tracing absent patterns on my arm as I listened to her breathing, as I felt the steady rise and fall of her chest, and tried not to think about how much I wanted this to be real. How much I wanted to be able to call her my girlfriend instead of my ... what?

Best friend?

Teammate?

My Captain?

The person I was completely in love with, who would never feel the same way?

That was the painful truth of it. Alexia Putellas, the person the world knew as a two-time Ballon d'Or winner, Barcelona captain, and the best footballer in the world. She was a person who could have anyone. Why would she ever want me, really? I was just Sofia. A decent player, sure, but I was nothing special. Not like her.

Eventually, we fell asleep like that, tangled together in a way that felt like a promise but wasn't. 

--- ---

Training the next morning was mostly gym work with some tactical drills on the pitch. I'd packed my case before we left my apartment, Alexia driving with us like she often did, and my suitcase sat in the boot like a ticking clock counting down to our separation.

"You're distracted," Mapi said, nudging me as we finished our last set of weights.

"Just thinking about my weekend," I lied.

She gave me a knowing look but didn't push. Mapi knew about Alexia and me; she knew the real facts of the situation, the other less so. To everyone else on the team, we were just really good friends. I knew the others suspected and knew something bigger was going on, but as much as I loved them, it really was none of their business how many times I'd found myself wrapped up in our Captain's sheets. Or how many times she'd been in my bed.

By the time we finished our session, most of the team were heading back out to the pitch for media obligations. I, however, had been excused; my flight was in a few hours, and I needed to get to the airport. I showered quickly, changing into more comfortable clothes for travel, and as such, I'd found myself alone in the changing room.

Almost alone.

Alexia emerged from the physio room, already in her other Barcelona training kit for the media session. Our lockers were right next to each other; they always had been since my first day at the club. She moved around the room in silence, pulling out her captain's armband from her cupboard above her locker.

"So, this is goodbye." she said, not looking at me.

"For two days," I reminded her, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I'll be back Sunday night."

"I know." She turned to face me, and there was something in her expression I couldn't quite read. "Come here."

I should have left. Should have kept it casual, given her a quick hug, and walked out. Instead, I stepped closer, and she immediately wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me flush against her. The changing room smelled like shower gel and the faint lingering scent of grass from the pitch, and Alexia smelled like her perfume, a smell that I'd never been able to identify but would recognise anywhere.

Her free hand came up to my face, her fingers gentle as she pushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. The gesture was so tender it made my chest ache and my tummy flutter. She cupped my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone, and I couldn't breathe.

"Have fun," she said softly, and then she was kissing me.

It wasn't rushed or heated. It was slow and deliberate, like she was trying to memorise the taste of me. Her lips moved against mine with a gentleness that felt like goodbye, and I kissed her back with everything I couldn't say.

I love you.

I want this to be real.

Please don't let me go.

Please don't ever let me go.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched mine. "Enjoy your weekend with Callie. You deserve it."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. My hands were still fisted in the collar of her training kit, and I had to physically force myself to let go.

"Alexia! We're waiting!" Pina's voice echoed from somewhere outside.

Alexia groaned, pressing one more quick kiss to my lips. "I have to ... "

"Go. You're required elsewhere." I said, finding the confidence in my voice.

She smiled, soft and private, and started backing toward the door, but Pina appeared in the doorway. She took one look at us and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Ale, come on," she said, grabbing Alexia's arm and physically pulling her toward the pitch. "You can make heart eyes at your girlfriend later!"

"She's not ... " Alexia started, but Pina was already dragging her away.

She's not my girlfriend.

She would never be my girlfriend.

The words echoed in my head as I stood alone in the empty changing room. Right ... because that's what we were. Not girlfriends. Just ... this. Just something, but also nothing.

I grabbed my bag and left before I thought about it anymore.

--- ---

Barcelona Airport was busy for a Friday afternoon, full of tourists and business travellers. I checked in, went through security, and found myself at the gate with an hour to kill.

I pulled out my phone and saw messages from Callie.

CALLIE

I'm already at Mallorca airport!!!

They changed me to an early flight

When do you land?

Also, I've been watching Love Island compilations for the past hour, and I'm SO READY FOR THIS

We're going to lose our minds tomorrow

I smiled, feeling the first genuine excitement of the day cut through the Alexia-shaped ache in my chest.

Landing at 4

Meet you at arrivals?

I'll be the one screaming

So ... normal then

Rude

But accurate

The flight was short, just less than an hour. By the time we'd gone up, we were coming straight back down again. Not that I really noticed, I spent most of it staring out the window at the Mediterranean below, trying not to think about the way Alexia had kissed me goodbye. Trying not to wonder if she was thinking about me at all, or if she'd already moved on with her day to focus on media and training and all the things that made her Alexia Putellas, Barcelona captain.

When we landed, I grabbed my bag from the overhead and made my way through the small Mallorca airport, and right there, just past the arrivals gate, was Callie.

She looked exactly like she always did, with dark hair in a ponytail. Even for this, a weekend away centred around trashy reality TV, she was still standing there looking like she was ready for a business meeting. However, unlike her business meeting, she had the biggest smile on her face. When she saw me, she actually did scream.

"SOFIA!"

I laughed, properly laughed, and then before I could get my bearings, she crashed into me, arms wrapped around my neck in a hug that felt like home.

"I missed you so much," she said into my shoulder. "FaceTime just is not the same."

"I know. I missed you, too." I agreed, hugging her back tighter.

We pulled back, and she immediately linked her arm through mine, steering us toward the exit.

"Right, so I've already checked us into the hotel, and it's gorgeous, Sof. Like, proper nice. Then tomorrow, oh my God, tomorrow we're going to the actual Love Island villa. The actual villa. I might pass out."

"Please don't pass out. I can't carry you."

"You're a professional athlete!" She argued, looking slightly offended that I wouldn't be able to carry her.

"Doesn't mean I want to carry your unconscious body around Mallorca."

She shoved me playfully, and just like that, we fell back into the easy rhythm we'd always had. Callie had been my best friend much more than she was my older sister. The person who'd sat with me through every episode of every trashy reality show we'd ever watched. When I'd moved to Barcelona and our time together became limited to FaceTime calls and stolen weekends, it had felt like losing a limb.

Not of that matter now though. Right now, she was here, and we had two whole days, and tomorrow we were going to live out our teenage fantasy.

The hotel was nice, much nicer than I'd expected. Our room had two double beds and a balcony overlooking the pool, and Callie had already scattered her things everywhere in the way only she could.

"So," she said, flopping onto her bed. "Tell me everything. How's Barcelona? How's the team? How's ... Alexia?" She said, waggling her eyebrows at me.

I groaned, falling onto my own bed. "Can we not?"

"Absolutely not. You're in love with your captain, and she's clearly in love with you, and you're both being idiots about it. I need updates."

"She's not in love with me," I said flatly.

"Sofia."

"Callie." I rolled onto my side to look at her. "She's Alexia Putellas. I'm just ... I'm just me."

"You're Sofia fucking Jamerson, starting striker for Barcelona and England. You score hat-tricks for fun. You're not 'just' anything."

"That's different," I argued

"How?"

I didn't have an answer for that. Or I did, but it was too complicated to explain. The way Alexia made me feel both seen and invisible at the same time. The way she touched me mattered, but she never said the words that would make it real.

"She kissed me goodbye today," I said quietly. "In the changing room. It was ... it felt like something, but then Pina called me her girlfriend and Alexia immediately corrected her."

Callie's face softened. "Oh, Sof ... that's a bit rough."

"It's fine. I'm fine. This weekend isn't about Alexia. It's about us and having so much fucking fun."

"Damn right it is." She sat up. Her eyes bright. "And tomorrow, we're going to take the hottest photos of our lives and make everyone jealous. Including Alexia."

I laughed despite myself. "Okay ... deal.

--- ---

We had breakfast at the hotel the next morning, and then the car arrived to take us to the villa. There were about ten of us in total, a mix of influencers and content creators who'd been invited for press. Callie and I just kept to ourselves in the back of the van, both of us practically vibrating with excitement.

"I can't believe this is happening. Like I've done cool shit with you before because of your job, but this is by far the best one. Like Coldplay was amazing, one of the best nights of my life, but I think we're about to top that." Callie whispered as we drove through the Mallorca countryside.

"You just like my job for the perks you get."

"Of course I do. What's the point in having a famous sister if you don't get to exploit it for all it's worth?"

I laughed and sighed at the same time. "At least you're honest about taking advantage of me."

"That's what older sisters are for." She said half sincerely, rubbing my knee sarcastically.

The time flew by, and before we knew it, there it was.

The Love Island villa looked exactly like it did on TV, but somehow more real. The white walls gleamed in the sunshine, the pool sparked an impossible blue, and I could see the terrace where so many dramatic conversations had happened over the years.

"Oh my God," Callie breathed. "Oh, my God."

We piled out of the van, and I grabbed Callie's hand as we walked through the entrance. The villa was even more beautiful in person, all white stone and modern furniture and that distinctly Mediterranean aesthetic that screamed luxury. The main living area opened directly onto the terrace, and beyond that was the pool, the daybeds, and the beanbags where we'd watch islanders have their hearts broken on national television.

"This is mental," I said, Callie, squeezing my hand.

"We need photos. So many photos." She said, already pulling out her phone.

We spent the next few hours exploring every inch of the villa. The terrace with its stunning views. The fire pit where elimination and recoupling happened. The hideaway has its massive bed and romantic lighting. The dressing room where islanders got ready. Every corner was familiar from years of watching, but experiencing it in person was surreal.

"Right," Callie said, pulling out her phone. "Time to pretend we're islanders."

We started with silly photos, pulling faces, recreating dramatic moments from the show, posing with exaggerated expressions, but then Callie suggested we do some "proper" ones, and suddenly we were taking it seriously.

I changed into one of the bikinis I'd packed, and Callie did the same. We took turns photographing each other on the daybeds, by the pool, on the terrace. Some were cute and fun, but others ... others were properly sexy. The kind of photos that could pass for actual promotional shots.

"You look incredible, like, properly bombshell material," Callie said, reviewing the photos on her phone.

"Stop it."

"I'm serious! Look at this one." She showed me sitting on the countertop, looking at the mystery. "You could actually be going into the villa."

"Right, because they'd cast a professional footballer."

"Why not? They've had athletes before." She said that going into the villa was a serious thing that was going to happen.

We took more photos, some of both of us together, some individual shots that ranged from funny to editorial quality. By the time we finished, we had hundreds of photos and videos, and my face hurt from smiling.

--- ---

That evening, we ended up in the hotel pool, and the water was the perfect temperature. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. We floated on our backs, talking about everything and nothing, her job and co-worker drama back in London, my upcoming matches, and our summer plans.

"You should post one of those photos," Callie said suddenly. "The sexy ones from today."

"What? Why?" I asked, confused.

"Because they're gorgeous. You're gorgeous, and it would be funny." She told me like it was the most obvious answer and I was stupid for not jumping to that conclusion myself.

"Funny how?"

She grinned, that mischievous look I knew too well. "Post one and pretend you're entering Love Island this year. Like, make it seem real."

I laughed. "No one would believe that Callie."

"So? It would be hilarious. Come on, Sof. Do it for the plot."

"For the plot?" I questioned.

"For the plot!"

I grabbed my phone from the lounger and scrolled through the photos we'd taken. There was one of me on the side of the villa in my yellow bikini, my eyes closed, shrugging, and another of me in my black bikini sat on the counter looking mysterious as hell. They were really good photos, if I was being honest.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered, opening Instagram.

"Yes!" Callie swam over, looking over my shoulder. "What are you going to caption it?"

liked by alessia, ellatoone, niamhcharles17, and 992,618 others

sofiajamerson for the plot and hopefully love #loveisland2024

comments:

username WAIT IS THIS REAL???

username SOFIA ON LOVE ISLAND OMG ❤️

callie_jamerson slay sis can't wait to watch 😘🥰

username NO WAY.😲

marialeonn16 I can't wait to see this play out

username absolute QUEEN behaviour 👑

username Barcelona have two more games left of the season and England have games over the break ... how has this been allowed 🤔

patri8guijarro 💛💛💛

username this has to be a joke right?? Right???

username manifesting a respectful king for her

username ICONIC

janafernandez bye bye to our summer plans 🥺😭

username if Sofia Jamerson goes on Love Island I will lose my entire mind 🤯

claudiaapina 🔥🔥🔥🔥

username this is two of my favourite things coming together and it feels niche

leahwillamsonn WHAT??? SOF I NEED AND EXPLANATION ... NOW

username I though her and Alexia were together

-----》username like Alexia would ever want to publicly date her 😂

-----》username have you looked at her she's gorgeous

-----》username I'm proud of her for doing something fun for herself 🥰❤️

username I have nobody to talk to about this

vickylopezz._ hotttiiiiieeeee 🥵🥵

username protect this Queen at all costs

ellatoone will be sat every night alessia

-----》alessia you're going to disapprove of everyone that come within 10 ft of her

username hottie is entering the villa

keriawalsh this is going to be interesting ... very interesting

username how does one get themselves into that villa now ... asking for a friend

username I'm sorry WHAT ... she's really going in the villa

"Perfect," Callie said.

"If people actually believe this, they're going to think I've lost my mind," I said, side-eyeing her.

"Even better." She laughed.

Before I could overthink my actions anymore, I hit post.

"There," I said, tossing my phone back onto the pool lounger. "Done. It'll get like twelve likes, and everyone will forget about it by tomorrow."

Callie laughed, splashing me. "Or it'll go viral, and you'll have to actually explain to Alexia why the internet thinks you're going on Love Island."

My stomach flipped at the mention of Alexia. I hadn't texted her all day, too caught up in the villa excitement. She'd sent me a few messages, asking how Mallorca was, telling me about the team day, sending me a photo of her coffee that morning with the text 'not as good as when you make it'.

I'd seen her messages, but I hadn't engaged with them. I hadn't told her about the villa, I hadn't mentioned Love Island at all. It felt silly, keeping it from her, but also... I didn't know how to explain it. How to make her understand that this silly reality show meant something to me, that it was part of the bond I had with my sister.

"Earth to Sofia," Callie said, waving a hand in front of my face. "You're thinking about her again."

"I'm not," I argued back defensively.

"You are. You get this look."

"What look?"

"Like you're in love, and it hurts."

I dunked under the water instead of answering, because she was right. It did hurt. Loving Alexia hurt in the best and worst way possible, and I didn't know how to make it stop.

When I surfaced, Callie was watching me with sympathetic eyes.

"You should tell her," she said softly. "Really, tell her. What's the worst that could happen?"

She could not feel the same way.

She could pull back.

I could lose her entirely.

"Let's not talk about Alexia," I said instead.

"Fine," Callie agreed.

--- ---

ALEXIA

I floated on my back in the deep end of my pool, eyes closed against the late afternoon sun, listening to the sounds of my teammates around me. Pina's voice rose above the others as she told some ridiculous story that had Patri cackling.

This was what I needed. The team all gathered at my house for one night away from a football pitch. Nobody was shouting at us to run faster, shoot better, or lift heavier. We were just free to be normal people.

They'd been here all afternoon, swimming, eating, drinking, and lounging on the deck chairs scattered around the pool. The Barcelona sun was warm on my face, the smell of chlorine and sunscreen mixing together, making that smell that was undeniably summer.

I let myself sink under the water, making the world go quiet. When I surfaced, I could hear Mapi and Ingrid arguing about something in the way they always did, half serious, half teasing, but always completely in love. It made my chest ache in a way I didn't want to examine too closely.

The afternoon had dissolved into chaos, Jana, Vicky, Esmee, and Patri all playing shoulder wars on the other side of the pool, everyone splashing, laughing, someone's elbow catching someone else's face. Exactly what I needed after a long season.

Except something was missing, or more like someone was missing.

I was trying not to think about it. Trying not to notice the Sofia-shaped absence in my pool, in my house, in my chest. She'd only been gone since yesterday, and I already felt it like a hollow feeling that came when she wasn't near.

Pathetic.

You're pathetic, Alexia.

By the time the sun started to set, we'd moved to the outdoor seating area. Someone had turned on the string lights Sofia had hung last summer, and they cast everything in a warm golden glow. The table was covered with the remains of our feast, an empty paella pan, half-eaten bread, bottles of wine and beer, and a fruit platter which now showed no resemblance to one.

I was stretched out on one of the loungers, a glass of wine in my hand that had gone warm, watching my teammates. Jana was showing Bruna something on her phone, both of them giggling. Mapi had her head in Ingrid's lap, her fingers running through her girlfriend's hair in that absent, affectionate way. Patri and Pina were engaged in what looked like a very serious debate about something completely unserious.

This was good. This was what I needed, and it felt good, but still, I feel something empty in my chest.

"Hey," Jana said, looking up from her phone. "Where was Sofia today? I thought she said she was coming?"

My stomach did a small flip at her name. "She's in Mallorca. Weekend trip with her sister," I said, keeping my voice casual.

"Oh, yeah. I remember her telling me something about that." Jana went back to her phone. "They're close, right?"

"Very close. They don't get to see each other much anymore." I took a sip of my now-warm wine.

"That's sweet. Family time is important." Bruna said.

I nodded, but something twisted in my chest. Sofia had been so excited about this trip, she'd talked nonstop about it all week, about how much she missed Callie, about how they were going to swim and eat and just be sisters for a few days.

I'd helped her pack. Had watched her fold clothes into her suitcase, had told her which bikini to bring. I'd kissed her goodbye in the changing room and told her to have fun.

Even if she'd only been gone for a day, I missed her. I missed her so much it felt like a physical ache. The thing was, we were never apart, apart from international breaks, and even then, it still felt like something was missing.

Just friends.

You told her you were just friends.

You don't get to miss her like this.

Yet I did. I missed her laugh, her smile, the way she looked at me like I was something special. I missed the weight of her in my bed, the smell of her shampoo on my pillow, the way she made my coffee in the morning.

I missed her, and she'd only been gone a day.

I told myself it was fine. She was with her sister. She was having fun, but a part of me wanted her to be thinking about me the way I was thinking about her. I wanted her to miss me the way I missed her.

"Ale, you okay?" Mapi asked.

"Fine. Just a bit tired." I said.

"You've seemed off all day. Is everything alright?" Ingrid observed, her voice gentle.

"Everything's fine. Just thinking about the last two matches. Making sure we finish the season strong." I forced a smile.

It was a lie, but it was a believable one. They nodded, accepting it, and the conversation moved on.

I was reaching for the bottle to refill my glass when Patri suddenly gasped, her eyes going wide as she stared at her phone.

"No way," she breathed.

"What? What is it?" Pina leaned over to look.

"Sofia..." Patri looked up, her expression somewhere between shocked and delighted. "She's not just in Mallorca for the weekend."

My heart stopped. Just completely stopped. What did that mean? She had repeatedly told me she would be back on Sunday; she had told me that right before she left, so why would that plan have changed,

"What does that mean?" Jana asked, sitting up straighter.

Patri turned her phone around, and suddenly everyone was crowding around to see.

I didn't move. Couldn't move. I could see it from where I was sitting. A photo on Instagram, on her Instagram of Sofia. My Sofia.

She was standing in a villa, wearing that yellow bikini. The one I'd told her to pack. The one I'd watched her model for me in her bedroom, the one that had made my mouth go dry and my hands ache to touch her.

However, this wasn't a casual beach photo. It looked professional. She wasn't looking at the camera, but still, everything about the picture screamed that she knew exactly what she was doing to whoever was looking at her.

The caption, though, was the final strike to my heart.

for the plot and hopefully love #loveisland2024

The world tilted sideways.

"Wait, is she actually going on Love Island?" Ona asked, her voice high with excitement.

"It looks like it! Everyone's going crazy. Look at all these comments, people think it's real." Patri was scrolling through reading comments.

"That's insane! I didn't even know she liked that show." Bruna said.

"That's a joke, right. Sofia is the biggest fan of the show known to man. She and Callie watch every episode." Keira corrected.

My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs, willing them to stop. Willing my face to stay neutral, composed. Captain's behaviour. Don't let them see that I was falling apart.

Love Island.

Sofia was going on Love Island.

She'd lied to me, or at least, she'd omitted the truth. She'd said it was a weekend with Callie. Just a weekend. Just sisters spending time together. She'd never once mentioned Love Island. Never mentioned a dating show. Never mentioned spending her summer in a villa with other people, being watched by millions, being pursued by other people ...

"Actually, this makes sense if you think about it. England didn't qualify for the Olympics this year, right? So, Sofia does have the whole summer free." Jana said thoughtfully, but that rational thinking was doing nothing for the state of my heart.

"And the season's almost over. Just two more matches. The club must have approved it if she's already there." Esmee added

Already there. Already in Mallorca. Already at the villa, probably. Already starting her Love Island journey. Without telling me.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it stopped working.

"This is so cool! Cool stuff like this never happens. We have to watch it. We have to support her!" Pina was practically bouncing.

"Definitely. Though I can't believe she didn't tell us. That's such a big thing to keep secret." Mapi agreed.

She didn't tell me either, I thought, and the pain of it was so sharp I almost gasped.

"Ale? What do you think?" Ingrid's voice was soft, concerned.

Everyone turned to look at me. Waiting for my reaction. Waiting for their captain to say something.

I forced my face into a smile. Forced my voice to sound normal, supportive. "I think it's great. If Sofia wants to do Love Island, we should support her. We need to make sure we're all voting ... give her the best chance in there."

"You didn't know?" Patri asked, and there was something knowing in her expression. Something that said she understood more than I wanted her to.

"She mentioned Mallorca, but not... this," I said carefully.

"Maybe she wanted to surprise everyone. Make a big reveal." Ona suggested.

"Well, she's definitely done that," I agreed.

If Sofia had wanted to tell me, she would have. We'd spent Thursday night together. She'd had every opportunity to mention it. To say, Hey, Ale, I'm actually going on Love Island. I'm going to spend my summer in a villa with other people, potentially falling in love with someone who isn't you, but she hasn't said anything. She'd let me help her pack. Let me kiss her goodbye. Let me believe we were something.

What were we?

What had we been?

I'd thought... I'd thought we were building toward something. I'd thought maybe, eventually, we'd figure out how to put words to what we had. How to make it real.

We'd talked about the Olympics. About Sofia coming to Paris after her family holiday to watch Spain play, to watch me play. We'd talked about maybe taking a trip together after, just the two of us, somewhere quiet where we could be ourselves without the pressure of football and expectations. We'd talked about that future like it was something real, like it was something I could believe in, but the joke was on me because apparently, Sofia had other plans.

"I'm going to get more wine. Anyone need anything?" I said, standing up. My legs felt unsteady underneath me, but I forced them to work.

A chorus of requests followed me as I walked into the house, but I barely heard them. The cool air conditioning hit my skin, causing immediate goosebumps to rise on my arms. Or maybe that was just the shock I was still coming to terms with.

I made it to the kitchen before my hands started shaking again. I gripped the edge of the counter, staring down at the marble, trying to breathe.

Love Island. Sofia was going on Love Island.

I'd helped her pack for this. I'd watched her fold clothes into her suitcase, clothes she'd wear on camera, clothes she'd wear while other people looked at her, wanted her. I'd told her which bikinis to bring. The black one. The one she was wearing in that photo. The one that made her look absolutely devastating.

I'd kissed her goodbye. I'd held her in the changing room and told her to have fun. I'd sent her off with my blessing, not knowing I was sending her away to find someone else.

My phone was in my hand before I realised I'd pulled it out. I opened Instagram searching for Sofia's profile, stared at the photos that were breaking the internet.

She looked beautiful; she looked so beautiful it hurt to look at her. The way the sunlight hit her skin, the confidence in her expression, the curve of her body in that bikini. She looked like a bombshell. Like someone who was about to walk into a villa and steal everyone's heart.

The comments were insane. Thousands of them, all saying the same things.

All of them making me feel more sick.

I scrolled through her profile, looking for clues and evidence that this was a joke, but there was nothing. Just the one post, and it looked completely real.

My finger hovered over the message button. I could text her. Could ask her what was happening. Could demand an explanation, but what right did I have?

We weren't together. We'd never put a label on what we were. I'd made sure of that, hadn't I? I'd called us friends. Best friends. I'd been too scared to ask for more, too scared to risk what we had, that now I'd lost her anyway.

I heard footsteps behind me and quickly locked my phone, wiping at my eyes even though I hadn't realised I was crying.

"Ale. Talk to me." It was Mapi, her voice and her expression both gentle.

"There's nothing to talk about." I turned to face her, forcing a smile. "Sof's doing Love Island. It's exciting for her."

"Alexia. You're literally shaking." Mapi crossed the kitchen, taking my hands in hers.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're in love with her."

The words hung in the air between us. I wanted to deny it, but there was no point, Mapi knew. They all knew, probably. Everyone except Sofia.

"It doesn't matter; we're just friends," I said quietly.

"You're not just friends. You two have never been 'just' friends."

"Well, she clearly doesn't feel the same way." My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. "She's going on Love Island, Mapi. She's going to spend the summer in a villa with other people, and I'm going to have to watch her fall in love with someone else."

"Maybe it's not real, maybe it's just for publicity or ... " Mapi suggested.

"Look at that post. Does that look like a joke to you?" I pulled up Instagram again, showing her again.

Mapi studied the image, and I saw the moment she understood. "Oh, Ale."

"She didn't tell me." That was what hurt the most. "We spent Thursday night together. I helped her pack. She had so many chances to tell me, and she didn't. She just ... let me believe it was a weekend with Callie."

"Maybe she was scared to tell you."

"Why would she be scared? We're friends, right? Friends tell each other things. Except apparently we're not even that." I laughed, trying to calm the pain in my chest, but my words just came out bitter.

"Alexia ... "

"I have to get back out there. The team is waiting." I pulled away from her, grabbing wine bottles from the fridge.

"Ale, you don't have to pretend with us."

"Yes, I do. I'm the captain. I have to hold it together." I met her eyes, and I knew she could see everything I was feeling.

"You're also human. You're allowed to be hurt."

"Not in front of them." I nodded toward the backyard, where I could hear laughter and music. "They can't see me like this."

Mapi looked like she wanted to argue, but she just nodded. "Okay. Later, when everyone's gone, we can talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about." I said blunty. My words harsher than I intended for them to be.

"Alexia ... "

"Please, Mapi." My voice broke. "Please just ... let me get through tonight."

She squeezed my hand once, then helped me carry the wine outside.

The rest of the evening was torture. Everyone was talking about Sofia's post, speculating about whether it was real, discussing what it would be like to have a Barcelona player on Love Island. I smiled and nodded and said all the right things, but inside I was dying.

I kept thinking about Sofia. Overthinking every moment of the last few days. About the way she'd looked at me when I'd called us friends. There had been something in her expression, hurt maybe ... disappointment. At the time, I'd been too scared to examine it too closely, too scared to acknowledge what it might mean.

If Sofia wanted more, if she'd been waiting for me to say something... because ... no. If she'd wanted more, she wouldn't be going on Love Island. She wouldn't be putting herself out there for the world to see; she wouldn't be opening herself up to other people.

She'd be here, with me.

I thought about her body in that bikini. The long legs that I'd felt wrapped around me. The toned stomach I'd traced with my fingers. The blonde hair I'd run my hands through countless times. The smile that made my heart stop.

Everyone was going to see her like that. Everyone was going to want her, and someone else was going to get her. Some islander was going to couple up with her, was going to kiss her, was going to touch her the way I'd touched her. They were going to fall in love with her, and I was going to have to sit here and watch it happen.

The thought made me feel physically ill. I excused myself to the bathroom, locked the door, and sat on the edge of the tub with my head in my hands.

This was my fault. I'd had two years with Sofia. Two years of nights spent in each other's beds, of kisses that felt like promises, of touches that meant everything. Two years of dancing around what we were, too scared to put a name to it, and now it was too late. I'd missed the chance that was right in front of me.

Sofia had come into my life right when I needed her most. Right after my ACL, when I was at my lowest, when I didn't know if I'd ever play again. She'd been there without me even needing to ask to, she just appeared one day as the little joyful ball of sunshine she was, and she never left. She made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry. She'd helped me through my recovery, had celebrated every milestone with me, and had made me believe I could come back stronger.

She'd become essential. Not just to my recovery, but to my life. To whom I was, and I'd never told her. I'd never said the words. I'd called her my best friend and let her believe that's all she was, because I was too scared to risk losing her.

Now I'd lost her anyway, and I had no one to blame but myself.

--- ---

SOFIA

I'd flown to Barcelona back late last night, barely slept in my own bed, and now I was here, back to reality and back to nursing a dull ache in my hip that had been bothering me since the Champions League final.

The knock I'd taken in that match had seemed minor at the time, a trip up and a fall to the ground, the adrenaline carrying me more than I thought. In the days since, the adrenaline had worn off, and the discomfort had settled in as a persistent throb that made me wince when I twisted or turned too quickly.

Hence, the early morning physio appointment.

I grabbed my training bag from the boot, slinging it over my shoulder as I headed toward the entrance. The air smelled like cut grass and morning dew, familiar and grounding. This was my place. My home. After a weekend away, it felt good to be back.

I pushed through the doors into the medical wing, the cool air conditioning hitting my skin. The physio clinic was as quiet this early, I'd learnt that quickly when I first signed, and since then had taken full advantage of it.

"Sofia!" Marco, one of the senior physios, looked up from his desk. "Right on time. Come on, let's have a look at this hip."

I followed him into one of the treatment rooms, setting my bag down and climbing onto the padded table. The paper crinkled beneath me as I tried to relax, even though my body was tense with anticipation.

"So, tell me what's been going on. You mentioned you've had discomfort since the final?" Marco said, pulling on gloves.

"Yeah." I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. "It's been this dull ache, mostly when I rotate in a certain way. It's not terrible, but it's... persistent."

"Let's assess the range of motion first."

The examination was thorough. Marco moved my leg through various positions, flexion, extension, and rotation, asking me to rate every movement on a pain scale of one to ten. Sometimes it was a two, barely noticeable. Other times, when he pressed on certain spots or moved my hip in specific ways, it would spike to a six.

"There's definitely some inflammation. It's probably from the impact you took, but we'll do some manual therapy, then ice and compression. I want to strap it up before you train," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"How long will that take?" I asked, simply just to be noisy.

"An hour, maybe more."

"Okay, do what you need to do," I said, lying back on the table.

The treatment was intense. Marco worked deep into the muscle, his fingers finding knots and trigger points that forced me to grit my teeth. I focused on breathing through it, on counting the ceiling tiles above me, on literally anything else but the discomfort he was currently inflicting.

"You're very tight through here. Have you been stretching?" he murmured, pressing into my hip flexor.

"As much as I can."

"You need to do more. This kind of tightness can lead to bigger problems."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. My mind was wandering back to anything else. Drifting back to Mallorca. To Callie's laughter as we'd posed for photos. To that moment by the pool when she'd dared me to post, and I'd done it. I'd posted the photos.

It had seemed funny at the time. A joke between sisters. A silly moment that would make our friends laugh.

I hadn't checked my phone much after posting it. Callie and I had been too busy swimming, too absorbed in our own little bubble. Except now away from my very bad influence, I was wondering if maybe it had been a mistake.

"Alright," Marco said, straightening up. "Let's get some ice on this, then I'll strap it up for you."

The ice was a relief, cold and numbing against my skin. I lay there for twenty minutes, watching the clock on the wall tick forward. Training had already started without me, not that I was in any rush. We were at the tapering end of the season. We had two more games and then two weeks, and then it was international break.

Twenty minutes later, Marco came back and began to strap my hip up with layers of tape wrapped around my hip and upper thigh, providing support and compression. It felt strange, restrictive, but also stabilising.

"This should help ... but if it gets worse, you need to tell me immediately. No pushing through pain, understood?" he said, smoothing down the final piece of tape.

"Understood."

"Good. Now go join the team."

I headed out toward the pitch, my hip feeling oddly secure under all that tape. The training ground was alive now, voices carrying from all the pitches, the sound of balls being kicked, whistles blowing.

I pushed through the doors that led outside, squinting against the bright sunlight. The pitch stretched out before me, green and perfect, and there they were, my teammates, mid-drill, running through passing sequences.

I started walking toward them, my boots loud against the concert path, but then, one by one, they all stopped.

The drill fell apart. The balls rolled to a stop. Everyone turned to look at me.

Complete silence.

I just froze. What was happening? Why was everyone staring?

Everyone was looking at each other in shock, but Mapi was the first to speak, her voice carrying across the pitch. "You're here."

There was something in her tone, something I couldn't quite identify.

"Of course I'm here. Why wouldn't I be?" I said, confused. I walked closer, my heart starting to beat faster.

No one answered. They all just kept staring.

"We have two more games left, and the last time I checked, I still played here," I added, trying to make a joke, but it didn't really seem to land the way I wanted it to.

Pina exchanged a glance with Patri. Jana bit her lip. Ona looked like she was trying not to smile.

"Sofia," Bruna finally said, stepping forward. "Your Instagram post. We all saw it."

My stomach dropped.

Oh.

Oh no.

It's like it all hit me at once. Yeah, it was all fun and games when I posted it with Callie by my side, but I was forgetting that everyone could see that. I'd made it as believable as possible, and now that was coming back to bite me in the arse.

Why had I let Callie talk me into that?

"The Love Island post. The one where you made it out like you were going on the show." Esmee clarified, as if I needed any clarification on which post they were talking about.

"What? No!" The words came out too loud, too defensive. "No, that was ... it was a joke. My sister and I were messing around. We went to see the villa as part of a press thing, and Callie told me to post the photos. I didn't think anyone would actually believe it."

Silence again, but this time it felt different, less shocked, more awkward.

"So, just to clarify, so we're all clear, you're not going on Love Island," Mapi said slowly.

"No. God, no. It was just for fun. I didn't think that people would take it seriously."

"People didn't just believe it, Sofia ... it went very viral," Patri said, pulling out her phone. "Look at this, it has thousands of comments. Everyone thinks you're actually going on the show."

She turned the screen toward me, and I finally saw it. My own post had blown up, with comment after comment speculating about whether it was real, about how I'd be the hottest islander, about who I'd couple up with.

My face burned. "I'm sorry. I should have clarified sooner. It was just a stupid joke."

"It's fine," Ingrid said gently. "We're just glad you're here."

"Yeah. We thought you'd left for the summer. You might want to text Leah, though, because she nearly had a meltdown about your news." Keira said.

"Okay, will do ... but no, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

The tension broke. Someone laughed, and suddenly everyone was moving again, the drill resuming, the normalcy returning, but I still felt a bit shaken. Embarrassed. Like I'd done something wrong without meaning to.

I tucked my shin pads into my socks and joined the drill, slipping into the rotation. My hip ached slightly under the tape, but it was manageable. I focused on the ball, on the passes, on the rhythm of training, but even with that, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. That my stupid joke had consequences I hadn't anticipated.

Training continued with drills, small-sided games, and tactical work. I threw myself into it, trying to prove I was present, committed, not distracted by reality TV fantasies.

I kept catching people looking at me, I kept noticing the whispers, the glances, and the whole time, I kept wondering where Alexia was. I'd been back for a few hours, and I'd already slipped back into my bad habits.

I'd seen her briefly when I first arrived, standing with the coaching staff, clipboard in hand, but she hadn't come over, she hadn't said anything. She'd just looked at me, her expression completely unreadable, and then she just turned back to the coaches. She wasn't Alexia in that moment; she was Alexia Putellas.

It made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with my hip.

By the time training ended, I was exhausted, physically from the work, emotionally from the weirdness of the morning. I walked back toward the changing rooms with the other girls, letting their conversation wash over me.

I was listening but not contributing, I was just nodding along, trying to engage, trying to feel normal.

Just as we reached the door, I felt a hand on my arm, pulling me back. I turned, and there she was.

Alexia.

Her face was serious, her jaw tight. There was something in her eyes I'd never seen before, something hard and hurt and angry all at once.

"Go ahead," she said to the others, her voice leaving no room for argument.

The girls exchanged glances but didn't protest. They kept walking, their voices fading as they disappeared into the building, leaving just us.

Alexia's hand was still on my arm, her grip firm. She pulled me toward the medical building, toward the physio rooms I'd left just hours ago.

"Ale, what ... "

"Not here."

She pushed open the door to one of the treatment rooms, the same one Marco had used earlier. It was empty now, the table still covered in crinkled paper, the smell of antiseptic lingering in the air.

Alexia closed the door behind us, and suddenly the space felt very small.

"Why are you back?" she asked, and her voice was sharp, cutting.

I blinked, slightly taken aback by her tone. I'd seen Alexia in some pretty vulnerable situations during her injury, and although she was sharp with the others, it had never been directed at me ... until today.

"What do you mean, why am I back? I train here. I play here."

"You're supposed to be on 'Love Island'."

"What? No, I told everyone ... it was a joke. Callie and I were messing around. It wasn't real."

"You posted a photo of yourself in a bikini with a Love Island hashtag and a caption about finding love." Alexia's voice was rising now, her control slipping. "You made everyone believe you were going on that show. You made me believe ... "

She stopped, her jaw clenching.

"It was just a joke; I didn't think anyone would take it seriously. I was just a bit of fun." I said again, feeling defensive.

"It's not funny, Sofia."

"Why does it matter?" The words came out sharper than I intended. "Why do you care what I post on Instagram all of a sudden?"

"Because ... " Alexia stopped, running a hand through her hair. "... because you didn't tell me. You said you were going to Mallorca with Callie for the weekend. You never mentioned Love Island. You never mentioned any of this."

"Because it wasn't real! It was a press event. We went to see the villa, we took some photos, and Callie dared me to post one as a joke. That's it. There's nothing to tell."

"You should have told me anyway."

"Why?" I was getting frustrated now, my own emotions bubbling up. "Why should I have told you? We're just friends, right? That's what you always say. Friends don't have to report every little thing they do."

The words hung in the air between us, sharp and bitter.

Alexia flinched like I'd slapped her across the face.

"Right. Just friends," she said quietly.

I felt a pang of guilt right in the centre of my chest, but I pushed it down. I was tired of this, tired of the ambiguity, tired of not knowing what we were, tired of feeling like I was always waiting for her to decide what I meant to her.

"I need to go," I said, moving toward the door.

As I did, Alexia's hand shot out, catching my arm again. Her grip was gentler this time, but no less insistent.

"Sof, wait."

I stopped, my hand on the door handle, but I didn't turn around.

"It does matter," Alexia said, and her voice was different now, softer and more vulnerable. "It matters to me."

I turned slowly, and what I saw in her face made my breath catch. She looked devastated. Like she was barely holding herself together.

"It matters to me," she repeated, and now her voice was shaking. "You matter to me. You've always mattered to me."

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"The thought of you walking out of my life and into someone else's ..." Alexia took a step closer, and I could see tears gathering in her eyes. "The thought of you on that show, with millions of people watching, with other people pursuing you, wanting you ... it broke something in me, Sof. It broke the part of my heart that you claimed without even knowing about it."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I could only stare at her as she said the words I'd been waiting two years to hear.

"I know I said we were just friends," Alexia continued, and now a tear slipped down her cheek. "I know I set those boundaries, but I lied. We've never been just friends. Not to me. Not for a really long time."

"Ale ..." My voice came out as barely a whisper.

"When I saw that post, when I thought you were actually going on Love Island..." She shook her head, another tear falling. "I realised I'd lost you. That I'd waited too long to tell you how I felt, and now you were moving on, and I had no right to stop you because I'd never told you. I'd never been brave enough to say it."

"Say what?" I needed to hear it. I needed her to say the words for them to be real. We'd spent a long time with ambiguity, and for once, I need really hard facts and words to make this all real.

"That I love you. That I've been in love with you for months. Maybe longer. That every night you spend in my bed, every kiss, every touch ... it all means everything to me. You mean everything to me." Alexia's voice broke a little bit more with every word.

The room was spinning. Or maybe I was spinning. I couldn't tell anymore.

"You love me?" I repeated, because I needed to be sure. I needed to know this was real, 100% real.

"Yes." Alexia stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body. Her hand came slowly up toward my face, cupping my cheek softly. "I love you, Sofia. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. I'm sorry I made you think we were just friends when you've been so much more than that. I'm sorry I almost lost you because I was too scared to be honest."

I was crying now, too, tears streaming down my face. "You didn't almost lose me."

"I thought I had. When I saw that post ... "

"It was a joke. It was just a stupid joke, Ale. I would never actually go on Love Island. The last time I checked, Love Island was for straight people, and the last time I checked, I wasn't that." I said again, but this time I couldn't help but default back to my usual English humour, and it worked.

We both laughed gently through the tears. Alexia leant forward, resting her forehead against mine.

"You didn't know I felt this way. You thought we were just friends."

"I did think that." I reached up, cupping her face in my hands. "But I stayed anyway, because even if we were just friends, I couldn't imagine my life without you in it."

Alexia's eyes searched mine. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you too." The words felt like freedom. Like finally exhaling after holding my breath for two years. "I've loved you since the beginning. Since you first smiled at me in the changing room. Since you made me laugh when I was nervous. Since you held me after bad games and celebrated with me after good ones. I've loved you through every moment we've spent together, even when I thought you'd never feel the same."

"Sof ..." Alexia's voice was thick with emotion.

"I didn't think someone like you would like someone like me," I continued, the words pouring out now. I'd held them in for two years, and there was no stopping them now. "You're Alexia Putellas. You're the best player in the world. You're the captain of Barcelona, and I'm just ... me. I'm just Sofia. Why would you want me when you could have anyone?"

"You're not just Sofia." Alexia's hands came up to cover mine, still cupping her face. "You're everything. You're the person who made me laugh when I was recovering from my ACL. You're the person who believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You're the person who makes every day better just by existing in it. You're the person I want to wake up next to every morning and fall asleep next to every night. You're the person I love."

I was sobbing now, two years of pent-up emotion finally breaking free. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." Alexia pulled me into her arms, holding me tight against her chest. "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I'm sorry I made you doubt it."

"I'm sorry I posted that stupid photo."

She laughed, the sound watery and relieved. "I'm sorry, I believed it."

We stood there in the empty physio room, holding each other, crying and laughing and finally, finally being honest.

"So, we're not just friends?" I asked, pulling back slightly to look at her.

"We're definitely not just friends." Alexia smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

but when you had spent twenty years at one club. when you joined the academy at eight years old with a shirt two sizes too big and oversized socks with a dream bigger than yourself, spent years building yourself up, building a life, a relationship and meeting friends for life it really felt impossible to imagine wearing another badge.

so in january when you walked yourself into what you had expected to be a routine meeting and contract update considering it was ending in the summer.

but the room felt too formal, too quiet in comparison to other contract meetings you'd had in the past.

across from the big board room table sat renee, another member of the club hierarchy and your agent where non of them looked particularly comfortable.

your stomach dropped. the vibe currently setting around the room was never a good sign.

renee said her normal greeting as you responded before moving uncomfortable in her seat,  "y/n," renee began carefully. "firstly, i would like to say this has nothing to do with your performances."

and with those words, you knew. because nobody started a conversation like that unless they were about to break your heart.

"i mean there's no easy way of putting this nicely but i'm afraid we won't be offering a renewal for the next season."

the words landed like a punch as you just stared and for a second you genuinely thought you'd misheard.

"sorry, what?"

the other woman higher up in arsenals recruitment shifted awkwardly, "we feel this is the right time to move in different directions, both you and club deserve a new challenge"

different direction. new challenge.

so twenty years and apparently that was all it amounted to: different direction and a new challenge for both.

you laughed once, a short, humourless sound. "so.. i don't get a say in this. that it then, final decision yeah?"

renee visibly winced, as her expression softened as she exchanged a glance with the other women before looking back at you, "i know this is difficult to process y/n, i do. but we wanted to let you know now to give you enough time to speak and explore other clubs"

you nodded, biting your lip as you whispered, "you make it sound so easy"

you clung to the word clubs. plural. as if arsenal wasn't the only club you'd ever wanted as if you'd spent your whole life preparing for this moment even if this sort of scenario only happened in her nightmares.

you nodded slowly, you didn't cry. not there. not in front of them.

instead you exchanged a look with your agent who told you he would be in touch as you thanked renee and the other women for their honesty and time as you stood up and walked out professionally before either of them could say anything else.

then you sat in your car for forty-five minutes and cried until your eyes hurt.

—

the rumours seemingly started almost immediately about contract talks and by february they were everywhere.

you linked with clubs in america, manchester, a photo-shop photo of you in a chelsea shirt as you were linked with another club in europe and apparently you had already been given a new contract to sign. you wish.

half the reports were nonsense but the other half weren't because while nobody knew arsenal had already made their decision, you did.

and now you were spending every spare moment speaking to your agent, trying to find the best outcome from a shitty situation. you were exploring options and trying desperately to imagine a future you never wanted.

and if losing arsenal had felt like losing part of yourself, the thought of telling alessia felt almost as impossible.

the two of you had met because of arsenal and looking back, neither of you could pinpoint the exact moment you both fell in love.

but alessia had always joked that she'd signed for arsenal and accidentally fallen in love with you in the same breath.

you had already spent years in the first team when alessia walked through the doors after signing for the club. she'd been one of the first to welcome her, showing her around, introducing her to everyone, making sure she settled into the place you had proudly called home since you were eight years old.

and somewhere between shared training sessions, long recovery days, coffees after practice and the quiet moments away from football, you'd both fallen in love.

so arsenal hadn't just given you a career. it had given you alessia and now, there was every chance the club that had brought the two of you together was about to send the two of you in different directions.

so yeah, the worst part was keeping it from alessia cause every time she asked, you felt sick.

it didn't matter whether they were driving home from training, cooking dinner together or lying in bed before they went to sleep. somehow, the conversation always found its way back there.

"so... have arsenal said anything yet?" alessia would ask so casually, usually after another conversation ended and the was a pause of silence

you would force a shrug, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt, the response would follow one of three.

"still talking.."

"nothing exciting."

"we'll see"

every answer was half true with a small white lie following it. arsenal had said something, just they hadn't said what alessia had thought they had.

every lie sat heavily in your chest, making your stomach twist the second the words left your mouth. you hated lying to alessia.

in the years the two of you been together, you'd never kept something this big from her. but every time you opened your mouth to tell her the truth, the words caught in your throat.

because saying them out loud would make them real, then you'd immediately change the subject; ask about training, ask about what to have for dinner, the film the two of you should watch, ask how alessia day had been if you’d spent it apart.

ask about literally anything else but you and arsenal.

at first, alessia accepted it. contract negotiations did take time. players didn't always know where they stood until the final weeks of the season and you had to never been the one to talk about business until there was actually something to say.

but as the weeks rolled into months, something didn't feel right cause other players in the team had their season outcome.

but your answers never changed, you never elaborated.

every mention of contracts seemed to make your shoulders tense, your smile falter, your eyes dart somewhere to anywhere but towards alessia.

alessia stopped reading into articles and journalists whenever you walked into the room. she quietly started ignoring the transfer rumours altogether, not wanting to upset you.

but she couldn't ignore the knot in her own stomach. she knew you, too well maybe. knew every tiny tell.

the way you'd pick at the skin around your thumbnail when you were anxious. the way you'd rub the back of your neck whenever something was bothering her.

the way you'd become unusually chatty whenever you were trying to distract someone from asking the question you didn't want to answer.

you weren't just avoiding the conversation, you were hiding from it cause every time arsenal contracts or the next season talk came up you looked like you wanted to disappear.

by the time mid-march rolled around, the questions had become impossible to avoid.

the rumours had picked up pace and every other day there seemed to be another article or transfer page linking you with a different club.

this time it was america. but then the next it was france. then it was another WSL side. nobody seemed to know anything for certain, yet everyone seemed to have an opinion, to know the answer even if nothing was official.

eventually, the questions started creeping into the dressing room.

leah had been the first. "so... any news?" you had barely looked up from untying your boots. "no.. not yet."

a few days later it was kim over lunch, harmlessly slipping it in, "they keeping you waiting, then?"

you had smiled politely, fork pushing food around the plate, "there still working bits out"

then lotte, steph and even vic had asked in a passing after training one afternoon. and every single time, you gave the same vague, carefully rehearsed answers.

"we'll see."

"nothing to report."

"nope, still waiting."

never enough to sound suspicious. never enough to invite another question and eventually, the girls stopped asking.

they all assumed there simply wasn't any news to tell. everyone except alessia.

she kept asking because she cared because she knew how much arsenal meant to you and she couldn't understand why the club were taking so long to tie down someone who had spent their whole life wearing the badge.

every time she brought it up, you would smile a little too quickly before changing the subject.

it didn't take long for alessia to realise the conversation was becoming something you were actively avoiding. she just didn't know why, couldn’t understand why?

—

the breaking point came a couple of weeks later. you had another meeting scheduled during a training day.

the calendar invitation simply read 'club meeting', but when alessia had asked about it over breakfast, you hadn't hesitated.

"its just about a brand appearance." you smiled shoving a slice of toast in your mouth.

alessia had nodded, "oh, nice. another sponsor thing?"

"yeah." you forced a smile nodding and going along with what ever alessia was saying as she hummed before standing up heading to her own leadership meeting not before kissing you on the cheek.

"i'm sure there probably just be sorting out a photoshoot or something."

something harmless. something ordinary. nothing worth worrying about.

in reality, you spent the next hour sitting in a meeting room with your agent on speakerphone and members of the club discussing interest from three separate clubs.

clubs you'd never imagined yourself playing for. conversations about contract lengths, relocation, wages, housing. the possibility of moving abroad.

the logistics of packing up the only home you'd ever really known. every sentence felt like another reminder that arsenal's decision wasn't changing.

it wasn't hypothetical anymore. this was your future and you needed to tell alessia somehow.

but by the time the meeting finally ended, you felt exhausted. not physically but emotionally. you weren't ready to leave but the club had already decided for you.

as you walked down the corridor towards the changing room, you could feel the frustration bubbling under your skin with each step.

stupid meeting, stupid hour talking about a stupid future you didn't want.

you pushed the door open harder than you had intended, it slammed against the stopped with a loud bang, your phone and bottle hitting the bench a second later.

and for a moment, you thought you were alone.

then..  "jesus, y/n."

you looked up, leah was sat a few lockers down. she was halfway through changing from her boots to her trainers. one sock was already on, the other still bunched in her hands.

she watched the tension in your face, in your shoulders as she raised an eyebrow. "i see someone's in a good mood?"

you scrubbed both hands over your face, letting out a shaky breath. "don't."

leah's expression immediately softened, "that bad?" she'd spent a lot of your years at arsenal with you, heck most of them. she knew when something was up and this was one of those moments.

you didn't answer. you couldn't. because the second you opened your mouth you knew it was fall and the months of sadness would finally spill over and once you started with the tears you weren't convinced you'd ever stop.

the silence stretched between them. leah quietly pulled on her second sock, tied the laces on one trainer, then looked back over.

"y/n."

nothing.

"you've barely said two words all week."

still nothing.

"you know i'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on."

you laughed. it wasn't a laugh. just a broken, humourless breath. then, before you could stop herself— "they aren't renewing me... this will be my last season for arsenal."

the words hung in the air. heavy. unbelievable.

leah stopped moving altogether, she'd expected maybe you had a lot going on but she expected it to be family or maybe something with alessia. not this. "you what?"

you kept staring at the floor. your trainers suddenly seemed fascinating. "they told me in january, just after we came back from the winter break"

silence. then—

"what do you mean... january?" leah asked, her voice now unsteady. part of her wishing she hadn't asked and maybe this wouldn't have been the outcome.

you let out another hollow laugh. "exactly that."

leah just blinked. "they told you in january..." leah glanced to her phone, the date on her phone, 23rd march. you nodded. "...that they weren't renewing your contract?"

another nod from you as leah just stared. the disbelief on her face was immediate and maybe dispute the situation award winning.

but it wasn't the kind of shock someone had over a transfer rumour or the surprise of a tactical decision. actual, genuine disbelief.

"they're letting you go?" she asked, as if it wasn't sinking in what you had said

your throat tightened, "yeah"

"but..." leah frowned, "...you're y/n."

that almost made you laugh again as though that changed anything. "they've made their decision, le"

leah leaned back against the lockers, shaking her head. "that's insane."

"so i've been told." you said sadly, your hands now in your lap as you glanced at leah, not being able to look at her properly knowing the look on her face would kill you.

"no, seriously." leah looked genuinely angry now, as she sat a bit straighter now "you've been here your whole life."

"i know." you nodded sadly.

"you've given everything to this club." leah argued as if her words were going to change anything that wasn't already happening and in motion.

"i know."

"you practically grew up here."

"i know, le." your voice cracked on the last word. "i know."

the room fell quiet again. leah moved across the bench until she was sitting beside you instead of opposite you. for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

eventually leah asked the question you'd been dreading. "...i take it alessia knows?"

you froze, your eyes immediately dripping back to the floor, your trainers looking interesting again.

leah didn't need an answer, as she sighed, "oh, y/n.."

"i know." you mumbled, guilt filling you. but it killing you slightly inside to tell leah it was going to be ten times worse and more to tell alessia, even if keeping it from her was probably even worse.

"you haven't told her?" leah asked, a sudden look of shock flashing across her, she could understand why you hadn't told the team but alessia? that was wrong and you knew that.

a tiny shake of the head as leah exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. "she's going to be absolutely devastated."

"i know."

"and you've been carrying this around by yourself since january?"

another nod. "i know."

leah looked at her for a long moment. not with judgement, just concern.

you finally whispered what your been too scared to admit to anyone. "i don't know how to tell her." your voice was barely audible.

"i've tried." you swallowed hard. "so many times." you paused before continuing, "i get home and i think, 'tonight. tonight i'll tell her.'" a shaky breath, as leah hummed, "and then she smiles at me... or asks how my day was... or starts talking about next season..."

you eyes filled despite your best efforts to stop them. "and i just can't and i feel so guilty for not telling her but i just can't get the words out"

because how did you tell the woman you loved that the club you'd dedicated twenty years to no longer wanted you?

how did you tell alessia there was a very real chance the two of you wouldn't be walking into training centre together next season?

that there was a possibility the two of you might not even be living in the same country?

leah reached over, squeezing your shoulder. "you need to have the conversation otherwise your gonna lose arsenal and her."

you nodded automatically, "i know, i will"

leah held her gaze. "no." her voice was gentle, but firm. "you need to actually do it."

you closed her eyes because deep down, you knew leah was right. you just weren't sure your heart could survive saying the words out loud but you needed to you couldn't loose two of the most important thing in your life especially when one is totally avoidable.

—

after your conversation with leah, you didn't tell alessia. not that week. not the week after that or the week after that even.

every time you decided today would be the day, the words got stuck somewhere between your heart and your mouth. you'd rehearse it in the mornings when brushing your teeth before training.

you'd stand outside your front door, promising yourself you wouldn't lie anymore. you'd even catch yourself looking at alessia across the dinner table and think, 'just tell her.'

then alessia would smile, or laugh at something stupid on her phone or reach across the table to steal food from your plate and suddenly you couldn't bear the thought of being the reason that smile disappeared.

so you would  swallow the truth all over again. just one more day. tomorrow. you'd tell her tomorrow. except tomorrow never came.

and so the rumours only got worse. there wasn't a day that went by without another article appearing online.

"lifelong gunner set for shock exit."

"wsl defender attracting interest abroad."

"three clubs leading the race for arsenal star."

some journalists were practically announcing transfers that hadn't even happened. others claimed you'd already signed pre-contracts.

you stopped reading them after a while, the stress of it all was starting to become overwhelming and it hurt just that little bit less by pretending they didn't exist.

alessia, on the other hand, couldn't avoid them. every time she opened social media there was another headline. another rumour.

another fan or media individual asking why arsenal hadn't announced your renewal yet. at first she'd laughed them off.

"they don't know anything."

you had simply hummed in agreement. then you'd change the subject, again.

alessia wasn't frustrated with you, she was becoming frustrated because nothing made sense.

you were quieter than usual. the woman who normally filled every silence with terrible jokes now barely spoke during the drive home.

you were distracted, constantly checking your phone. stepping away to answer calls from your agent. disappearing into meetings that seemed to become more frequent with every passing week.

and every single time alessia asked about them...

"it's nothing."

"it's just admin."

"they're sorting sponsorship stuff."

always an explanation but never the full truth.

leah noticed it too. one afternoon, after training, she caught you lingering in the corridor outside the changing room.

"you still haven't told her, have you?" leah asked but it wasn't a question, she knew you hadn't.

you let out a tired sigh. "no."

leah folded her arms as she leant against the wall, letting out a disappointed sigh "y/n.."

"i know." you mumbled as you looked down at the ground fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

"no, i don't think you do." leah quipped back, leah wasn't trying to get at you but she knew the longer you hid this from alessia the worse it was going to get.

you glanced back up at leah, tired eyed. "i've tried-“

"when?" leah shot back quickly.

"every day."

leah's expression softened. "then why haven't you?"

"because every time i look at her..." you shook your head. "...i can't be the person who breaks her heart."

leah sighed. "she's going to be hurt whether you tell her today or three weeks from now." you nodded, you knew this but there was something stopping you, "and every day you wait, it gets bigger."

"i know."

"so stop carrying it on your own."

you leaned back against the wall, the same wall leah was leaning against. "i just need a little more time."

"y/n, you've had three months."

silence.

"y/n..."

leah's voice became gentler, knowing this was hard for you "she deserves to hear it from you."

but before you could answer, footsteps echoed down the corridor. both of you looked up. blonde hair, alessia. she slowed as she reached them, her eyes immediately flicking between the two. neither of you spoke.

leah stood with her arms folded across her chest, one shoulder pressed against the wall beside the changing room door. her expression wasn't angry. if anything, it was worse. concerned.

you were leaning back against the opposite wall, jaw tight, while alessia stood between the two of you feeling as though she'd walked into the middle of a conversation that had already been going on for a while.

the air felt heavy and whatever she'd interrupted, it clearly wasn't a joke about training or another argument over coffee orders. "...everything okay?" alessia asked carefully.

you answered far too quickly. "yeah." the word came out sharp, automatic.

leah's eyes flicked to you immediately then to alessia and then back to you again. it was the kind of look that said i'm not buying that for a second.

after a long moment, leah pushed herself away from the wall with a quiet sigh. "i've got to go and find kim anyway."

as she passed, she squeezed your shoulder gently, her voice dropping just enough that it should have been private. "don't leave it too long."

quiet enough that alessia almost missed it, almost. your shoulders stiffened beneath leah's hand. then leah was gone, disappearing around the corner without another word.

the silence she left behind settled heavily between the two of you. alessia stepped closer. "what was that about?"

you blinked as though you'd been pulled back from somewhere far away. "what?"

"you two looked..." alessia searched for the right word. "...serious.

for a second, something flickered across your face. guilt. fear. but then it was gone. you let out a forced laugh that sounded wrong in the empty corridor.

"oh." you rubbed the back of your neck, eyes dropping to the floor. "leah was just being leah."

alessia frowned. "what does that mean?"

"you know..." you shrugged, trying for a smile that never quite reached your eyes. "...mothering everyone."

alessia didn't look convinced. she knew you too well.

knew the way her girlfriend's fingers twitched when you were anxious. knew the way you avoided eye contact when you were hiding something. knew that the laugh you'd just given wasn't real.

"love..."

"its nothing."

there it was again. nothing. the same answer you'd been giving for weeks.

nothing when you stayed behind after training.

nothing when you looked exhausted.

nothing when you kept disappearing to take phone calls.

nothing when transfer rumours with your name attached started appearing online.

alessia felt her chest tighten. "you keep saying that."

you looked up then, and for a moment alessia saw the strain you'd been trying so hard to hide. dark circles beneath your eyes. the tension around your mouth. the way you seemed to be holding yourself together by sheer force of will.

before alessia could say anything else, you reached out. your fingers brushed gently against alessia's temple as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

the touch was familiar. careful. almost apologetic. then you leaned in and kissed her. soft and lingering.

long enough that alessia's questions blurred at the edges.

long enough that you could hide behind the affection.

when you pulled away, you stayed close, your foreheads nearly touching.

"i've got to get to analysis."your voice was quieter now. you rested your forehead against alessia's for a brief second, eyes closed.

"i love you, lessi" the words should have felt reassuring. instead they landed with a strange weight in alessia stomach.

you stepped back before she could respond then you turned and started walking down the corridor. "y/n—"

but you didn't stop. didn't look back. just kept walking until the sound of her footsteps faded around the corner.

alessia stood there staring after you, the kiss should have made her feel better. the i love you should have eased the knot in her chest.

but instead, a cold unease settled there. because you hadn't looked relieved after saying it. you looked like someone saying something important before it was too late.

and as alessia watched the empty corridor where her girlfriend had disappeared, one thought lodged itself stubbornly in her mind.

it hadn't felt like a normal goodbye. it had felt like a goodbye she didn't yet understand. and somehow, that frightened her more than any transfer rumour ever could.

—

the rumours got worse. not the usual transfer-window whispers that came and went every few days. these were constant. relentless even as the season was coming to its final weeks.

every morning there seemed to be a new article. every afternoon another update. every evening another journalist claiming to have "sources close to the situation."

possible destinations. likely destinations. clubs which were "monitoring the situation."

one report had you in spain. another had you on the south east coast of america. a third insisted you were staying in england but moving north.

some of them spoke with such confidence that it sounded as though a contract had already been signed. you never commented, you just got quieter.

at first alessia had tolf herself it was normal. transfer speculation happened every season. players ignored it all the time. plus you were her girlfriend, you'd tell her if there was a move on the cards for you.

but this felt different and the conversation that happen with leah and you in the hallway had been playing on alessia's mind for weeks.

so evening you were both at home, curled up on opposite ends of the sofa with takeaway containers balanced on the coffee table.

the television was on but neither of you were watching it. you had picked at a few chips and then abandoned the box entirely. alessia noticed, she noticed everything these days.

for several minutes she watched her girlfriend pretend to scroll through your phone while not actually reading anything. then alessia finally set her own container down. "okay."

you looked up immediately, too quickly. "what?"

alessia turned sideways on the sofa, her hand resting on your knee. "what is going on?"

"nothing." the answer came automatically. instant that it was practically a reflex at this point.

and that, more than anything, made alessia's chest tighten. "y/n."

"i'm fine."

"you're not."

your jaw tightened as you looked away toward the darkened window. alessia moved closer, you legs now resting on her lap. "every time i ask about next season, you shut down."

"less—“

"no."her voice wasn't sharp. ot wasn't angry. it was tired, tired of being shut out. tired of watching the person she loved carry something alone.

"worst case scenario," alessia said quietly, "tell me."

you swallowed, still not having the guts to look at your girlfriend or say the words aloud. "nothing."

"best case scenario?" alessia asked, rephrasing the question for you.

"babe."

"y/n."

the use of your full name landed between them like a weight. your eyes closed briefly. alessia reached across and took your hand, it was cold. "talk to me, please."

for a second you looked as though you might pull away but instead your fingers curled weakly around alessia's. and

suddenly you couldn't do it anymore. couldn't lie. couldn't pretend. couldn't keep carrying the secret that had been crushing you for months from the person you loved.

your breathing hitched. once. twice. then a third time, sharp enough that alessia sat up straighter, she could tell that from whatever it was you were holding onto it wasn't good.

but before you could stop them, tears spilled down your cheeks. alessia's entire expression changed and concern replaced frustration instantly. "oh, hey."

you moved your hand from alessia's as you covered your face with both hands. "they don't want me." the words came out broken and raw.

alessia frowned, not understanding. who was 'they'?  "what do you mean?"

your shoulders shook as alessia's words weren't processing in your head as everything you'd been holding onto just came spilling out, "i've known since january"

a beat of silence ran around the room before alessia whispered, "what?"

you dragged a shaky breath in. "they aren't renewing me."

and for a moment alessia just stared at you as if her brain had refused to process the sentence. "they what?"

you nodded miserably. "i didn't know how to tell you."

"january?" alessia repeated, disbelief creeping into her voice.

"you’ve known since january?"

another nod, you screwed your eyes shut. in your mind you could imagine alessia’s face, annoyed, upset and rightly so.

so when alessia moved without thinking and pulled you towards her until you were pressed against her. wrapping both of her arms around you and holding on tightly. in your mind you were only dreaming.

but as alessia’s cooed and rubbed your back you knew she was there, she may be upset but she was here for you, always. you made a small strangled sound before burying yourself in alessia’s neck.

and then, that was the moment you finally fell apart. not the controlled tears she'd been fighting, real sobs. the kind that shook through your whole body.

twenty years. academy at eight. every age group. every injury. every setback. every dream. your entire life had been built around one badge.

"i don't know what i’m doing," you cried. "i don’t know where i’m going."

alessia tightened her arms around you. "you don't have to know right now."

"but—" you sniffled your words not making much sense.

"we’ll figure it out." alessia said softly kissing the top of your head, trying her best to comfort you.

you shook your head against her shoulder. "you don't understand."

"i do."

"no." your voice cracked again, "my whole life has been arsenal." the words shattered into another sob.

alessia closed her eyes because she did understand. maybe not completely maybe no one could unless they’d spent the same amount of time you had at the same club. but alessia understood enough.

enough to know that this wasn't just about a contract. it was about identity. about belonging and about walking into a place that had felt like home since childhood and realising it no longer wanted you to stay.

alessia pressed a kiss into your hair. "baby, listen to me." you didn't move. "we’ll work it out together, i promise”

another kiss. "whatever happens." another. "whatever club, country” another as you finally lifted your head, your eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, completely heartbroken.

alessia brushed away the tears still clinging to your cheeks.

"you are not doing this alone."

your mouth trembled. "i’m so scared," you admitted.

"of what?"

"cause saying it aloud makes it real.."

alessia chest ached for you. "it’s real," she said softly, nothing she could say was going to sugarcoat that. "but that doesn't mean you've lost everything."

you looked unconvinced, “it feels like i have."

"you haven't." alessia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "yes you’ve lost a club. not your career. not your talent. not the loving person you are."

you let out a shaky breath. "i don't even know who o am without arsenal."

"then we'll find out." alessia smiled, wiping your cheeks. “but either way i’ll love you all the more”

as you mumbled ‘i love you’ back as the tears started again but this time, when you cried, you weren’t curled up alone in a bathroom after another meeting with your agent.

you weren’t staring at headlines in the middle of the night. you weren’t carrying the weight of twenty years by herself.

alessia was holding you through every shaking breath, one hand rubbing slow circles across your back and for the first time since january, you felt something other than panic.

it wasn't certainty. it wasn't hope, not fully.

but wrapped in the arms of the person you loved, with the truth finally out in the open, the pressure in your chest eased just enough for you to breathe again.

When Y/n woke the next morning, the sunrise had replaced the rain, and for one hopeful second, she forgot where she was. That was until she saw the reinforced window.

“Oh, good”, she said, sitting up slowly. 

The room hadn't changed, and the camera in the upper corner still blinked silently. After a couple of minutes, the lock clicked open and in stepped Misa, carrying folded clothes. Y/n glanced at them and then back at Misa.

“You do laundry now?”

“No”.

“Shame, would’ve suited you”.

Misa just placed the clothes on the chair, “Change”.

Y/n unfolded them, black shorts and a white vest and roughly her size. She looked over towards Misa.

“You lot guessed my size?”

Misa’s face didn't move. “Identification records”.

“Somehow that is creepier”.

“It is efficient”.

“You talk like Alexia”.

Misa paused, “No”.

“Yes”.

“No”.

Y/n held up the shorts, “That sounded exactly like her”.

Misa sighed, “Change”.

“There. Again”.

Misa just walks towards the door, speaking over her shoulder. “Alexia wants you downstairs”.

“For execution?”

“Breakfast”.

“That was going to be my second guess”.

As soon as Misa stepped out into the corridor, Y/n changed into the shorts and vest, gave her hair a quick brush with her fingers, and stepped outside. She was met with Misa and two guards, who she gave an amused glance.

“Bit much for breakfast, no?”

“You’re unpredictable”.

“Well, I prefer charming”.

“No one asked”, Misa said before walking down the hall, leaving Y/n to slightly jog to catch up.

During the day, the building seemed different it was way busier, staff moved quickly through corridors, security opened doors after scans, and absolutely nobody seemed surprised to see Y/n. Meaning everyone had clearly been told about her, brilliant. Before Y/n can think too much, the lift doors open, and she follows Misa inside to be met with nothing. There were no numbered buttons, just a blank panel.

“You know, normal buildings have buttons”, Y/n muttered.

“Normal buildings have security flaws”.

“You people need a hobby”.

“This is our hobby”.

Y/n looked over at Misa, whose expression remained flat.

“That was almost a joke”, Y/n smiled slowly.

“No”.

Before Y/n could continue, the doors opened. This floor was brighter and had more private offices, with lots of people moving between rooms, carrying folders and tablets. As she followed Misa towards a set of open double doors, all she could hear was the laughter that spilled out through them. It was real laughter, loose, warm and entirely out of place. 

Misa slowed, “Do not start anything”.

Y/n huffed, looking offended, “I never start things”.

Misa turned toward her, “Y/n”.

Y/n just lifted both hands, “Okay, okay. I will behave”.

Misa sighed, “That worries me more.”

As they entered, Y/n's gaze settled on the long table covered with breakfast that smelt way too good, considering she was still being held here against her will, and the four women sat around it.

Jenni was the first woman Y/n noticed. She was sitting sideways in her chair, one arm draped over the backrest as if she had never once had to worry about being told to sit properly. She looked up immediately, as her eyes moved over Y/n with open curiosity.

Beside her sat Mapi, tattoos visible beneath rolled sleeves, cutting fruit with more aggression than it deserved.

Ona sat opposite, quieter, watching everything.

Patri held a coffee mug between both hands, expression calm but interested.

Misa stopped beside Y/n.

“This is Y/n”.

Jenni smiled, “So”.

Y/n waited as Jenni looked her over once more.

“You’re the mechanic”.

Y/n glanced at Misa.

“Apparently, I’m a celebrity”.

Jenni leaned forward.

“Alexia said you noticed things”.

Y/n pulled out a random chair.

“She says lots of things”.

Misa moved the chair beside her instead.

Y/n looked at it, “Assigned seating?”

“Yes”.

“Do you hand out name tags too?”

“Sit”.

Y/n sat directly opposite Jenni. Misa clearly regretted this immediately.

Jenni rested her chin against one hand, “You always talk this much?”

“Only when people kidnap me”.

“That seems fair”.

“I thought so”.

Jenni smiled wider. It was effortless, the kind of smile that invited trouble without needing to ask for it directly. 

“You hungry?” Jenni asked.

“Starving”.

Jenni slid a plate of pastries across the table, “Careful”.

Y/n picked one up, “Poison?”

“Mapi chose them.”

Mapi looked offended as she retorted, “I have taste”.

Jenni lowered her voice, “Exactly”.

Y/n laughed while Patri looked toward Misa.

“Where did you find her?”

“Wrong garage”.

Y/n corrected her, “Right garage. Wrong criminals”.

Jenni laughed again, “You’re brave”.

“No”.

Jenni tilted her head. “No?”

“I’m sarcastic. People confuse the two”.

“That sounds useful”.

“It has mixed results”.

Misa poured herself coffee, “Mostly bad ones”.

Y/n looked at Jenni. “She likes me”.

Misa didn’t look up. “I tolerate you”.

“See?”

Jenni smiled, “I think she likes you too”.

Misa’s head lifted. “No”.

“Definitely”.

“No”.

Y/n leaned closer to Jenni across the table.

“She does this a lot”.

“I know”.

There was immediate ease between them. Jenni teased without needing permission while Y/n pushed back without hesitation, and neither seemed particularly interested in letting the other win. Mapi noticed it first, then Patri, then Ona.

Jenni reached for a strawberry. “So what exactly did you do to annoy Alexia this badly?”

“Fixed her car”.

Jenni blinked, “That’s it?”

“I also noticed armed men unloading crates”.

“There it is”.

“And criticised someone’s electrical work”.

Jenni laughed as she pointed the strawberry toward her, “I like you”.

Y/n smiled, “You said that fast”.

“I am quite decisive”.

Y/n studied Jenni, “So can you get away with arguing with Alexia?”

Jenni leaned back.

“I can get away with lots of things”.

Alexia’s voice came flat, “Until you can't”.

Everyone’s eyes snapped up to find Alexia standing in the doorway after entering silently, yet again. She's wearing a dark charcoal suit, a simple gold watch and her hair is pulled back neatly. Her eyes travelled down the table from Mapi and Ona, to Patri and Misa, to Jenni and then Y/n, where her eyes stayed for a moment longer than the rest. 

Y/n felt the change straight away as Alexia’s eyes moved from the plate in front of Y/n to Jenni and then back. At first, it looked like calculation, but there was something tighter beneath it, something Y/n didn’t see the night before, and Jenni clearly saw it as well.

Her smile sharpened, “Morning”.

Alexia looked at her again. “You were supposed to be downstairs twenty minutes ago”.

“I got distracted”. Jenni replied, glancing over at Y/n.

The room cooled by several degrees as Alexia followed the look. 

Y/n picked up her coffee to hide her smirk, while Jenni just sits there looking way too pleased and smug. 

“How did you sleep?” Alexia asked as she walked in.

Y/n finally looked up at her. “Terribly”.

“You slept”.

“That is a low standard”.

“You were safe”.

“That's debatable”.

As Alexia took her seat at the head of the table, the room adjusted instantly around her, and even Jenni straightened slightly, not out of fear, but as a habit of respect. 

Alexia sipped her coffee. “The car has been moved downstairs”.

Y/n’s attention sharpened. “Did anyone touch it?”

“It was transported”.

“Did anyone touch the wiring?”

“No”.

“Good”.

“Can you finish the repair this morning?”

Y/n freezes. “You mean I get to work?”

Alexia looks towards her voice firmer. “Can you fix the car Y/n?”

Y/n locks eyes, scoffing, “Yeah. Of course I can”.

Alexia just nods towards Misa. “Take Y/n to the car. Mapi and Ona can join her”.

Misa nods, already moving towards the doors. Y/n doesn't stand yet, she just looks towards Jenni. 

“What about Jenni? Can she come?”

Silence.

Alexia looks at Y/n before settling on Jenni.

“Jenni has responsibilities to tend to”.

Jenni tilted her head. “Do I?” 

“Yes”.

“What are they?”

Alexia’s gaze went back to Y/n and didn't move. “Elsewhere”.

Jenni’s expression turned openly amused. “Are you sending me away?”

“Yes”.

“Why?”

Alexia’s gaze cooled. “Because I gave you work”.

Jenni looked toward Y/n. “Well, that's a shame.”

Y/n smiled back.

“I was enjoying breakfast.”

Alexia’s eyes snapped to her, and Y/n felt it instantly. It was subtle but still very clearly possessive. Y/n probably should have stopped herself, but instead she leaned one elbow on the table and spoke.

“Maybe she can do her work downstairs in the garage.”

“No”, Alexia said immediately.

Jenni’s eyebrows rose.

Y/n fakes innocence, “Why not?”

“She has work to do”.

Jenni smirks, glancing at Alexia, “Come on Ale, you know how well I can multitask”.

Alexia freezes before snapping a little, “I said no, and that's final”.

Jenni’s smile stayed, but something within her posture shifted as even she knows not to push Alexia over any boundaries, and she just hit one. As she heads towards the door, she whispers something only Alexia and herself could hear, but whatever it was has Alexia’s composure cracking slightly. 

Just before she reaches the door, she calls over her shoulder. “Later, mechanic”.

Y/n lifted her cup slightly. “Try not to miss me too much”.

Jenni laughs, shaking her head as she walks out of the room.

Alexia watches the doorway long after Jenni’s figure had disappeared, eventually looking back to Y/n.

“You enjoy provoking people”.

“Only the interesting ones”.

“And is Jenni interesting?”

Y/n smiled, “Very”.

Alexia’s face remained unreadable however, her eyes did not. Y/n found that strange possessive spark again, as she looks in them. Not enough for anyone to accuse her of it, but it's definitely there. Alexia walks towards her, stopping once she's reached the chair.

“She enjoys games”.

“So do i”.

“I noticed”. 

Alexia's eyes dropped for a fraction too long before she straightened. “Downstairs”.

Y/n stood up, “Bossy”.

“Alive”, Alexia replied as she walked away.

Y/n smiled to herself.

Misa saw it. “Do not”.

Y/n looked over at her. “I said nothing”.

The garage smelled like oil, gas, and metal. Y/n found herself relaxing almost immediately, something familiar at last. The car itself sat under bright lights in the centre of the workshop, its black paint shining perfectly. Beside it, a workbench was prepared with tools, diagnostic equipment, everything she could need and more.

Y/n walked slowly around the car, scanning it up and down.

Mapi followed her, “You always stare at cars like this?”

“Yes”.

“Why?”

“They tell you things”.

Mapi glanced at Ona, “Is this not weird?”

Y/n crouched near the front wheel and muttered back, “You play with knives in your spare time”.

“Fair”.

Misa remained by the door watching as Y/n opened the bonnet, where the badly bypassed immobiliser and added relay were.

Y/n leaned in closer, “Ugly”.

Misa spoke up, “Can you remove it?”

“Yeah”.

“How long?”

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, “Depends on how much you interrupt me”.

Misa folded her arms.

Y/n continued, “About an hour”.

She got to work carefully removing the damaged bypass, rebuilding the original circuit, and then testing the relay and any other common faults, which comes back as nothing so far. She felt in control, and since being dragged into Alexia’s world, it's the first time. When she's about halfway through putting everything back together, a familiar voice speaks up behind her.

“You look happier”.

Y/n smiled before turning, she knew that it was Jenni’s voice.

“I brought supplies”, Jenni said as she entered carrying two coffees.

Misa stared, “You have work”.

“I finished”.

“You did not”.

“I finished enough of it”.

As Jenni returned her focus to Y/n, she handed her one of the coffees before asking. “Need any help?”

“Can you hold a light?”

“I can hold whatever you want”.

Y/n looked at Jenni as she leaned over Y/n’s shoulder way too close, then necessary.

“Here?” Jenni asked.

“Left”.

Jenni moved it.

“Other left”.

“I knew that”.

“Clearly”.

Jenni bumped her shoulder against Y/n’s as she smiled. Their flirting was effortless, it came through timing, looks, or the way Y/n kept asking Jenni to pass tools she could easily reach herself.

Their bubble was popped when the garage door opened, and Alexia walked in. Misa instantly straightened, Ona did as well, and even Mapi stopped smiling. Jenni however, did not move away, and that was the first thing Alexia saw. Jenni leaning beside Y/n, way too close, holding a light as Y/n is bent over half beneath the bonnet.

Alexia stopped, but only for a fraction of a second, before she continued calm and controlled. “Progress?”

“Nearly done”, Y/n replied, not even turning around.

Alexia stopped beside Misa as her eyes moved to the coffee beside the tools, then to Jenni. “Why are you here?”

Jenni did not look away from Y/n. “Helping”.

“You have work”.

“Finished it”.

Alexia’s gaze sharpened knowingly as Jenni smiled.

“Jenni”, Y/n called.

“Yes?”

“Light”.

“Like this?”

“Perfect, thanks”. Y/n finished connecting the last circuit. “Done”.

Jenni looked impressed. “That fast?”

“I told you.”

“You did.”

Y/n lowered the bonnet carefully. “Try it”.

Alexia looked at her. “Are you sure?”

Y/n put one hand over her heart, “That hurts”.

“Are you sure”.

“Yes”.

Alexia handed the tablet to Misa and approached the vehicle, opened the door, sat behind the wheel, started the engine, and the car came alive instantly. Smooth, clean and no fault warnings.

Y/n smiled with satisfaction, “There.”

Alexia let the engine run, then switched it off.

She stepped out, “You fixed it”.

Y/n folded her arms, “You sound surprised”.

“I verify everything”.

“Paranoid”.

“Yes”.

Jenni smiled at Y/n.

Alexia shut the car door, “Enough”.

The word came sharper than anything she had said all morning. Everyone went still, well, everyone except Jenni, who looked at her and then smiled. There was challenge in it now.

“Enough what?” Jenni asked.

Alexia’s eyes narrowed, and Y/n looked between them before deciding that this was becoming dangerous.

Jenni stepped toward Y/n, “Come on. I was just helping”.

Alexia moved, she crossed the distance and stopped directly in front of them, “You were distracting her”.

Jenni looked at her.

“Move”.

Jenni’s eyebrows lifted, Y/n’s heartbeat kicked, and there was no mistaking it now, possessiveness was raw beneath Alexia’s control.

Jenni saw it. “You are jealous”.

The room went silent.

Alexia spoke softly. “Leave”.

Jenni’s smile faded not from fear but from recognition. She had finally reached the line.

“Alexia—”

“Now”.

Jenni held her gaze for one long moment, then looked at Y/n. “Later”.

Mapi followed almost immediately, “I suddenly have somewhere to be”.

Ona nodded, “Same”.

They disappeared only Misa remained.

Alexia looked at her, “Out”.

Misa hesitated.

Alexia’s gaze sharpened, causing Misa to exhale before leaving, pulling the garage door shut behind her, leaving silence. Y/n stood beside the car, and Alexia stood opposite her.

For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Y/n smiled. “You really hate being caught doing anything human”.

Alexia stared.

Y/n smiled, “Very jealous”.

“Y/n”.

“Possessive too”.

Something changed at that moment. Alexia stepped forward, causing Y/n to step back instinctively, but Alexia followed until the backs of Y/n’s knees met the car bonnet, causing her to fall backwards against it.

The humour remained on her face, but her pulse jumped as Alexia stopped directly infront of her, far too close. She placed one hand next to Y/n’s head, and the other rested near Y/n’s waist, pinning her in. 

Alexia leaned even closer, “You think you understand me?”

“No”.

“Good”.

“But I understand jealousy”.

“Im not jealous”.

Y/n smiled up at her, “Then you won't care if I have dinner with her”.

Silence, and before she could use her better judgement, Y/n’s smile widened as she continued, “Thought so-”

Alexia cut her off as her breath came sharper and she moved fast, way faster than Y/n expected and grabbed a fist full of Y/n’s vest, pulling her up the remaining distance until their mouths collided.

After getting over her initial shock, Y/n didn't back down. She reached up and grabbed the collar of Alexia’s shirt, trying to gain some control, but that ended quickly after Alexia bit down hard on Y/n’s lower lip, making her gasp.

Y/n groaned, pressing her hips upwards, instinctively trying to find some sort of friction after feeling the sudden heat between her thighs. She wasn't thinking about Jenni anymore, she was only thinking about how much she wanted Alexia to fuck her right there against the car she had just fixed for her.

Alexia smirked as she pulled away. “I told you”, she said as her thumb brushed over Y/n’s swollen lips. “I control what is under my command”.

Y/n’s pulse stumbled, “I’m not under your command”.

Alexia’s gaze held hers, “No?”

Y/n opened her mouth, but nothing came out. For the first time since entering Alexia’s world, she had no answer. The slightest glint of satisfaction entered Alexia’s expression as she noticed and took in the sight of Y/n lying backwards on the bonnet, flushed and out of breath.

She brushed Y/n's hair out of her face while she leaned down and pressed her mouth to Y/n's again before standing up, smoothing her suit down and heading towards the garage door.

Y/n remained exactly where she was as she watched Alexias retreating figure while her pulse refused to settle. At the doorway, Alexia stopped and looked back. She almost seemed fully composed again.

“Five minutes”, she said. “Then my office”.

Y/n stared at her, “For what?”

Alexia’s eyes held hers, “To continue our discussion”.

Then she disappeared through the doorway, and Y/n stayed exactly where she was, almost shaking her head with disbelief.

alexia who has an insane oral fixation and doesn’t even try to hide it. her mouth is always on you- sucking, licking, biting gently- like she needs something in her mouth to stay calm.

alexia who constantly wants her mouth on your tits. she’ll pull you close during a movie just to slip your shirt up and latch onto a nipple, sucking lazily for the entire film while her hands knead the soft flesh.

alexia whose eyes glaze over the second she gets one of your nipples in her mouth. she moans softly, tongue swirling, completely lost in the feeling and taste of you like it’s her favourite thing in the world.

alexia who sucks on your fingers when she’s thinking or stressed after a match. she’ll grab your hand, bring two fingers to her lips, and suck slow and deep while staring at you with dark eyes.

alexia who eats you out for hours because her oral fixation won’t let her stop. she licks and sucks on your clit like it’s honey, groaning every time you drip onto her tongue, completely addicted.

alexia whose mouth is rarely empty when you’re together. if she’s not sucking on your nipples, she’s sucking marks into your neck, your inner thighs, or your bottom lip while kissing you.

alexia who wakes you up with her mouth already on your chest, licking and sucking lazily at your tits while she’s still half asleep, like it’s the most natural way to start her day.

alexia who manhandles you onto her face when she needs you badly. she grabs your hips, pulls you down, and devours you while her hands keep you right where she wants you.

alexia whose oral fixation gets messy. she loves when your tits are shiny with her spit, covered in hickeys, and swollen from how long she’s been sucking on them.

alexia who’ll be in the middle of a conversation with you, then suddenly lean in and take your nipple into her mouth without warning, talking around it like it’s completely normal.

alexia  who sucks on your clit until you come, then keeps going- gentle, lazy sucks, because she’s not ready to give up the taste of you yet.

alexia  whose favourite way to relax is lying between your legs with her head on your thigh, softly sucking and licking at your folds like it soothes her.

⸻

misa had you spread out on the bed right from the start, her hand already wrapped around your neck as she settled between your thighs. her grip was firm and warm, thumb resting against your pulse while she leaned down to kiss you slow and deep. 

the pressure on your throat stayed constant, a steady reminder of her control even as her tongue moved against yours.

she lined up the thick strap and pushed inside you in one smooth motion, stretching you open while her fingers flexed lightly around your neck. you gasped into her mouth at the sudden fullness and misa hummed in satisfaction, hips pressing forward until she bottomed out. 

"breathe through it amor, you can do it,” she murmured against your lips, never once letting her hand leave your throat.

she started fucking you with long, deep strokes, pulling back almost all the way before sliding back in, the wet sound of the strap filling you echoing softly. her hand stayed locked around your neck the entire time, squeezing just enough to make your head feel light and hazy while she rolled her hips. every thrust dragged perfectly inside you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

misa watched your face closely, eyes dark with want as she kept the steady rhythm. her fingers would tighten when she drove in deep, then loosen just enough for you to suck in a shaky breath before squeezing again. the constant hold on your throat turned every sensation sharper, every thrust more intense. you could feel your pulse beating against her palm as she fucked you.

"you feel so fucking good," she whispered, voice low and rough. 

she shifted her angle slightly and started hitting that sweet spot with every roll of her hips. her free hand braced beside your head for leverage as she picked up the pace, thrusting harder while her grip on your neck stayed possessive and unrelenting. 

you moaned under the pressure, thighs trembling around her waist as pleasure built fast.

she leaned down closer, lips brushing your ear while she kept fucking you deep. 

"look at me, cari” she said softly. 

your eyes met hers and she rewarded you by tightening her hand around your throat, cutting off just enough air to make stars flicker at the edges of your vision. the strap drove into you harder, faster, the base grinding against your clit with every thrust.

your hands clutched at her back, nails digging in as the combination of her cock buried inside you and her hand choking you pushed you closer and closer. misa groaned at the way you clenched around the strap, her hips snapping forward with more force. she never let go of your neck, fingers flexing and tightening in rhythm with her thrusts, keeping you right on that perfect edge between pleasure and breathlessness.

"so pretty like this," she praised, voice husky. she rubbed her thumb along the side of your throat while she fucked you, the gentle caress contrasting with the firm pressure. 

your back arched hard off the bed as she drove the strap in deep again and again, the slick sounds growing louder. every breath you managed was small and desperate, filtered through the tight hold of her hand.

she could feel how close you were getting. misa doubled down, thrusting harder, grinding against your clit while her grip on your neck tightened even more. "come for me carino,” she urged, eyes locked on yours. the lack of air and the relentless pounding of the strap finally sent you over the edge. 

your orgasm crashed through you hard, pussy clenching tight around the thick silicone as your body shook underneath her.

misa worked you through it, hips still moving in deep strokes while her hand stayed wrapped around your throat. 

she only loosened her grip when your orgasm started to fade, letting you gasp in full breaths as she kissed you softly. but even then her fingers remained curled around your neck, possessive and warm, stroking your skin like she couldn't bear to let go.

you were still panting when she started moving again, slower this time but just as deep, building you right back up. her hand never left your throat. 

"we're not done, preciosa” she whispered, lips brushing yours. "i want to fuck that pretty mouth before i let you come again.” 

she kept fucking you like that, hand firm around your neck the entire time, drawing out every moan and tremble while she chased more pleasure from your body, before flipping the two of you over, causing her movements to come to a halt.

you let out a small whine at the feeling, as misa leaned back against the headboard, legs spread wide as she pushed you down and inbetween them.

her hand stayed firm on the back of your neck the whole time, guiding you down toward the slick strap still glistening from your pussy. she was half reclined, hips tilted up, the thick cock jutting up between her thighs as she pushed your head lower.

"open your mouth amor” she murmured, fingers flexing against the back of your neck. you parted your lips and she immediately guided you down, pushing your head onto the strap until it filled your mouth. the taste of yourself coated your tongue as she held you there, hand firm on your nape, not letting you pull back.

she started rocking her hips up slowly, fucking your mouth while her other hand tangled in your hair. her grip on the back of your neck stayed constant, pressing you down deeper with every upward thrust. 

"just like that," she breathed, voice low and rough. the strap slid over your tongue and nudged into your throat as she pushed your head down to meet her hips.

drool quickly spilled from the corners of your mouth, running down the shaft as misa controlled the pace. her fingers dug into the back of your neck, holding you exactly where she wanted while she fucked your face. 

every time she thrust up she pressed down on your nape, forcing the thick silicone deeper until your throat fluttered around it. you gagged softly and she groaned, the sound vibrating through her body.

"fuck you take it so well, preciosa. so well for me” she praised, eyes half lidded as she watched your lips stretch around her. 

she kept one hand locked on the back of your neck the entire time, choking and guiding you at once, pushing you down harder as her hips picked up speed. the wet, messy sounds of her using your mouth filled the room while she held you in place.

she shifted slightly, spreading her legs wider so she could thrust up more easily. her hand on your nape tightened, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin as she fucked your throat in steady, deep strokes. 

you could barely breathe between thrusts, every inhale small and desperate through your nose while she kept your head pinned down. tears pricked at your eyes but you kept sucking, tongue working the underside of the strap as she used you.

misa moaned louder, her grip on the back of your neck almost bruising as she pushed you all the way down until your nose pressed against her harness. she held you there for a few long seconds, throat full and fluttering, before letting you up just enough to gasp for air. 

then she did it again, pressing your head back down with firm pressure, fucking your face with increasing need.

“mirame, preciosa. look at me while i fuck your throat,” she ordered softly. 

you glanced up through wet lashes and the sight made her hips jerk harder. she kept her hand on the back of your neck, choking you from behind as she thrust up again and again, using your mouth like a toy. 

drool ran down your chin and onto her thighs but she didn't care, too focused on the tight heat of your throat and the way you let her control every movement.

she reached down with her free hand, sliding two fingers back into your soaked pussy while she continued pushing your head down onto the strap. 

the dual sensation made you moan loudly around her cock, the vibration pulling another deep groan from misa. she fingered you faster, curling her fingers while her hand on your nape kept you buried on the strap, barely letting you breathe.

"you're mine like this," she whispered, voice husky with pleasure. her hips snapped up harder, fucking your face with short, rough thrusts while her fingers worked you closer to the edge. the pressure on the back of your neck never eased, keeping you exactly where she wanted you as she chased her own high.

your second orgasm hit you hard while your mouth was still full of her cock. you shook and whimpered around the thick silicone, pussy clenching tight around her fingers as misa kept thrusting into your throat and pressing down on your neck. she didn't stop until your orgasm faded, only then easing her grip just enough for you to breathe properly.

even then her hand stayed on the back of your neck, stroking the skin gently as she looked down at your flushed, messy face with dark, satisfied eyes. strings of spit connected your swollen lips to the strap as she finally let you pull off a little.

"buena chica, such a good girl f'me.” she said softly, thumb brushing the side of your neck. "catch your breath... because i'm not finished with this mouth yet. not even close"

⸻

alessia did not stop thinking about it.

which was ridiculous.

because realistically, nothing had happened.

she had said hello.

that was it.

she had walked over, introduced herself, accidentally talked far too much, discovered you understood almost none of it, and then kyra had rescued both of you from the awkwardness.

a normal interaction.

a completely normal first meeting.

except alessia kept replaying it in her head.

mostly the way you had looked at her.

because you hadn’t looked annoyed.

that was what surprised her.

you had every reason to be.

if someone walked up to you and started talking that quickly in a language you were still learning, you probably would have been irritated. you weren’t known for having endless patience, and you definitely weren’t known for pretending to be interested in things you weren’t.

but you hadn’t been annoyed.

you had listened.

really listened.

and then when you didn’t know what to say, you had just given her that small nod and quiet “okay” like that was enough.

for some reason, alessia found that funny.

not in a way where she was laughing at you.

more because it was so obviously you.

she didn’t know you yet.

not really.

but she already had the feeling that you were someone who didn’t waste words.

⸻

“you know she probably thought you were insane, right?”

alessia looked over at caitlin.

they were walking towards the next part of training, and alessia had been unusually quiet.

which caitlin noticed.

everyone noticed when alessia was quiet. “i was being welcoming.”

caitlin smiled. “you were interviewing her.”

“i was not.”

“less.”

“okay, maybe a little.”

caitlin laughed. “she’s still learning english. you can’t just talk at her like you’re giving a presentation.”

alessia sighed. “i didn’t know.”

“i know.” caitlin’s expression softened.

“but now you do.”

alessia nodded.

because she genuinely hadn’t realised.

you weren’t someone she had seen struggling. you carried yourself with so much confidence that it was easy to forget that everything around you was new.

new club.

new country.

new language.

and despite all of that, you had walked into arsenal like you belonged there.

alessia respected that.

maybe more than she expected.

“she’s intimidating,” caitlin added.

alessia looked surprised. “really?”

“yes.”

“why?”

caitlin gave her a look. “because she looks like she wants to fight everyone.”

alessia laughed. “she does not.”

“lessi.”

“okay, maybe a little.”

and that made alessia laugh harder because it was true.

you did have that look.

the one where people probably assumed you were annoyed before you had even spoken.

but alessia had seen enough to know there was more to it.

because someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have listened.

someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have nodded.

someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have thanked her.

⸻

you, meanwhile, had already forgotten most of the interaction.

not because it didn’t matter.

but because you had a lot of things happening at once.

new club.

new training environment.

new teammates.

you were trying to remember names, routines, and where everything was.

your brain was already full.

but you did remember alessia.

you remembered her because she had been different.

most people, when they met you, were careful.

they knew who you were.

and thanks to your sister, they knew your last name.

and sometimes that made people treat you differently.

too carefully.

like they weren’t sure how to approach you.

alessia hadn’t done that.

she had walked straight up to you and started talking.

too much.

far too much.

but it was genuine.

and that was something you noticed.

you noticed everything.

you just didn’t always say it.

⸻

later, when you were sitting with laia, she looked at you with a small smile.

you immediately knew. “what?”

“nothing.”

you narrowed your eyes.

you hated that word.

everyone used it when they knew something.

“laia.”

she laughed softly.

“you liked her.”

you looked genuinely confused. “who?”

“alessia.”

your face immediately changed.

not dramatically.

but enough.

laia noticed.

of course she noticed.

“see?”

you looked away. “she talks a lot.”

laia smiled. “that’s not an answer.”

“it is to me.”

“no.”

you stayed quiet.

because what were you supposed to say?

yes, you thought she seemed nice?

yes, you noticed she had a kind smile?

yes, you appreciated that she had approached you without making you feel like some strange foreign player who needed special treatment?

you weren’t used to admitting things like that.

especially not after knowing someone for five minutes.

so instead, you did what you always did.

you avoided the conversation. “training.”

laia laughed. “you’re impossible.”

you didn’t disagree.

⸻

alessia didn’t know it yet, but that was the beginning of something.

not something obvious.

not something either of you would look back on and say, that was the moment.

there was no instant connection.

no dramatic realisation.

no sudden change.

just a girl who talked too much and a girl who barely talked at all.

a girl who wanted to make someone feel welcome.

and a girl who wasn’t used to someone trying.

the funny thing was, neither of you knew that the smallest moments would end up meaning the most.

alessia didn’t know that her rambling introduction would be something laia remembered.

you didn’t know that the blonde girl who talked too quickly would soon become the person who made london feel less unfamiliar.

for now, she was just alessia.

and you were just you.

but somehow, without either of you realising it yet, you had already started paying attention to each other.

⸻

alessia waited a day before approaching you again.

which, for alessia, was actually impressive.

normally, if she decided she wanted to get to know someone, she would just do it. she was naturally open like that. she didn’t overthink introductions or worry about whether someone would find her annoying because most of the time, people knew her well enough to understand that was just who she was.

but with you, she was suddenly aware of everything.

how quickly she spoke.

how much she spoke.

whether you understood her.

whether she was making things harder for you.

it was strange because she had never really thought about communication before. she had always been surrounded by people who spoke the same language, people who understood her jokes immediately, people who could interrupt her when she started going on a tangent.

you couldn’t.

not yet.

and for some reason, that made her want to try harder.

she found you after training, sitting slightly away from everyone else.

not completely alone.

you weren’t hiding.

that was something alessia had already noticed about you.

you weren’t someone who avoided people because you disliked them.

you just didn’t chase being around them.

there was a difference.

you were sitting with your phone in your hand, scrolling through something, your training bag beside you. your expression was the same one you seemed to have most of the time- calm, serious, almost intimidating.

but alessia was starting to realise that was just your face.

she approached slower this time.

you looked up when you noticed her.

and alessia immediately smiled. “hi.”

you looked at her. “hello.”

it was a small thing.

but alessia noticed.

yesterday, you hadn’t started the greeting.

today, you had.

and she had no idea why that made her feel weirdly proud. “how are you?”

you paused.

not because you didn’t understand.

you did.

because you were thinking about your answer. “good.”

alessia nodded. “good.”

there was a silence.

a normal one.

not awkward.

alessia realised she needed to stop filling every quiet moment.

that was probably something she needed to learn.

so instead of immediately starting another five-minute explanation about something random, she just stood there.

and waited.

you looked at her.

maybe because you expected her to say something else.

maybe because you weren’t used to people being comfortable with silence around you. 

“first day went okay?”

your eyebrows lifted slightly.

alessia smiled. 

you nodded. “si, it was good.” 

“different?”

“no, just normal.”

then there was another pause.

and this time, alessia didn’t rush to fix it.

she let you exist in it.

and that was when she realised something.

you weren’t difficult.

you weren’t cold.

you just needed time.

everyone else seemed to want the quickest version of you.

the smile.

the conversation.

the easy friendship.

but you didn’t work like that.

you needed to know someone was staying before you gave them anything back.

and for some reason, alessia found that fascinating.

“you know, your english is good. better than you think it is.”

you looked at her.

you weren’t sure if that was a question or a statement. “not really.”

alessia smiled. “yes, really.”

you shook your head slightly. “i understand.” you pointed between the two of you. “speaking…”

you searched for the word.

alessia waited.

she didn’t interrupt.

that surprised you.

“hard.”

she nodded immediately. “yeah.”

she understood.

not completely.

but enough.

“well,” she said slowly, “i’m not exactly helping because i talk too much. but if i had to learn spanish, my spanish would be a million times worse than your english.”

you looked at her.

and then, unexpectedly, the corner of your mouth moved.

barely.

but it did.

alessia noticed.

she tried not to.

she failed.

because it was the first time she had seen it.

a real reaction.

not a polite smile.

not the tiny nods you gave everyone.

a genuine little smile.

“there it is.”

you frowned. “what?”

“nothing.”

you narrowed your eyes.

you hated that word.

alessia laughed. “sorry.”

you looked away, but she could tell you weren’t actually annoyed.

not anymore.

⸻

over the next few days, this became normal.

not friendship.

not yet.

just something small.

alessia would find you before training and say hello.

you would respond.

sometimes with one word.

sometimes with two.

but you responded.

and everyone noticed.

especially because you were not usually like that.

you weren’t rude.

that was important.

people often misunderstood you because of how quiet you were.

you would answer questions.

you would help if someone needed something.

you would do your job.

but you didn’t usually seek people out.

you didn’t usually let new people in.

mariona had joked once that getting you to like someone was harder than winning a champions league final.

she wasn’t completely wrong.

alessia didn’t know that.

she just thought you were interesting.

⸻

the first time you actually had a proper conversation was almost accidental.

you were both leaving training at the same time.

alessia was walking beside you, not because she planned to, but because she happened to be going the same way.

“how are you finding london?”

you looked ahead. “cold.”

alessia laughed.

a proper laugh. “okay, that’s fair.”

you looked at her.

“very cold.”

“you’re really not enjoying the weather, are you?”

you shook your head. “no.”

“barcelona is warmer.”

“yes.”

“you miss it?”

that question made you pause.

because that one was different.

most people asked because they were curious.

alessia asked because she wanted to understand.

“yes.”

your answer was immediate.

alessia nodded.

“yeah.”

a pause.

“but you wanted this.”

you looked at her.

she hadn’t said it like a question.

she had said it like she knew.

and that caught you off guard.

because she did know.

not everything, but enough.

“yes.”

alessia smiled. “then that’s good.”

you didn’t know why that sentence stayed with you.

it was simple.

obvious.

but something about the way she said it made you feel like she understood.

⸻

later that day, laia found you and immediately noticed something.

you were quieter than usual.

which was impressive.

because you were already quiet.

“what?” 

you looked at her.

“i didn’t say anything.”

“your face did.”

you frowned. “my face does nothing.”

laia laughed. “your face says everything.”

you ignored her.

but she smiled.

because she knew.

you weren’t someone who talked about feelings easily.

you weren’t someone who admitted when you liked someone.

you barely admitted when you liked a food.

but she had known you long enough to recognise small changes.

and alessia was becoming one of them.

⸻

alessia didn’t think anything was happening.

not really.

she just thought she was doing what she always did.

being kind.

helping someone new.

making a teammate feel comfortable.

that was all.

except she was starting to notice things.

like how she looked for you when she walked into a room.

like how she listened harder when you spoke because every word felt important.

like how a small smile from you felt like an achievement.

but she didn’t question it.

not yet.

because right now, you were just the new girl, and she was just the girl who talked too much.

neither of you knew that somewhere between awkward introductions and quiet conversations, something had started.

something neither of you had a name for yet.

⸻

by the second week, you had started learning the rhythm of arsenal.

not completely.

not enough that it felt like home.

barcelona was still home.

you knew that.

you knew it in the way you missed the familiar noise of the training ground, the way you missed hearing voices you had grown up around, the way you missed walking into a room and not having to explain yourself.

but london was becoming less unfamiliar.

and that was mostly because of small things.

knowing where the coffee machine was.

knowing which door led to the gym.

knowing which parts of training were going to be chaotic.

knowing that katie and kim were almost impossible to understand when they spoke too quickly.

knowing that kyra would somehow appear out of nowhere just to annoy someone.

knowing that mariona would always save you a seat without making a big deal out of it.

and, unfortunately, knowing that alessia russo was always somewhere nearby.

you weren’t sure when that happened.

you didn’t remember deciding to notice her.

you just did.

you noticed when she arrived.

you noticed when she laughed.

you noticed when she was talking to someone across the room.

you noticed when she wasn’t there.

that last one annoyed you slightly.

because you were not someone who paid attention to people without a reason.

you had never been.

your family always joked that you were impossible to impress because you were too focused on everything else.

alexia used to say you had one of the biggest hearts she knew and one of the worst ways of showing it.

you never understood why everyone thought that was funny.

you cared.

you just didn’t announce it.

⸻

the next morning, you were reminded that you still didn’t know arsenal as well as you thought.

you had spent ten minutes walking around the training ground trying to find the physio room.

you knew where it was… sort of.

you had been there before.

but everything looked different when you were tired and slightly frustrated.

which, unfortunately, was most mornings.

you stood in the hallway, looking between two directions, trying to decide which one made sense.

“lost?”

you turned.

and immediately recognised the voice.

alessia.

she was standing there with her training bag over her shoulder, a small smile on her face.

you looked back at the hallway.

then back at her.

“no.”

she raised an eyebrow.

you stared at her.

she stared back.

and after a few seconds, you sighed.

“un poco.”

alessia laughed softly.

not in a way that embarrassed you.

just because she found your honesty funny.

“where are you trying to go?”

“physio.”

“oh.” she nodded. “i’ll show you.”

you looked at her. “you go other way.”

because you had already learned enough about the training ground to know.

alessia looked slightly surprised. “you know?”

you nodded. “yes.”

“then why are you still standing here?”

you paused.

because that was a good question.

you didn’t have an answer.

alessia smiled. “come on.”

and then she turned around, walking in the opposite direction from where she needed to be.

you followed.

because you weren’t going to argue with someone helping you.

even if you didn’t understand why she was doing it.

“so,” alessia said after a moment, “what do you need the physio for anyway?”

you looked at her.

she noticed.

“sorry. if you don’t want to say, that’s okay.”

you shook your head.

no.

it wasn’t that.

you just weren’t used to people asking without already knowing.

“my leg.”

alessia’s expression changed slightly.

not dramatically.

just enough.

“your leg?”

you nodded. “not very good.”

the way you said it was so casual that it almost made alessia more concerned.

because you weren’t someone who complained.

she had noticed that already.

you could get tackled, get up, and continue like nothing happened.

“i saw your match against france.”

you looked at her.

alessia continued. “is that where you hurt it?”

you gave a small nod.

she remembered.

of course she did.

you shouldn’t have been surprised.

alessia was a footballer.

she watched football.

but there was something about the fact that she remembered that made you look at her slightly differently.

most people remembered the goals.

the assists.

the moments everyone talked about.

alessia remembered the injury.

“yeah.”

“that looked painful.”

you shrugged. “it was okay.”

alessia looked at you. “okay?”

“yes.” you nodded.

she laughed.

“you and i have very different definitions of okay.”

you didn’t respond.

but you almost smiled.

almost.

alessia noticed.

she was becoming very good at noticing.

⸻

the rest of the walk should have been quiet.

but this was alessia.

so naturally, it wasn’t.

“i actually hate physio rooms.”

you looked at her. “why?”

she smiled.

because it was the first question you had asked her.

not an answer.

not a polite response.

a question. 

“because they always tell you things you don’t want to hear.”

you listened.

really listened.

and alessia continued.

“like, you’ll go in thinking everything is fine and then suddenly they’re like, ‘maybe don’t do that movement for two weeks.’ and you’re like, well, that’s inconvenient because i’m a footballer and moving is kind of my entire job.”

you stared at her.

not because you were confused.

because you were listening.

alessia had started talking with the expectation that you probably wouldn’t understand all of it.

but then she looked at you.

and realised you were following.

you didn’t interrupt.

you didn’t look away.

you just watched her.

with those intense eyes of yours.

and suddenly alessia forgot what she was saying.

because you looked at people like they were the only thing in the room.

she wasn’t used to that. “sorry.”

you blinked. “what?”

she shook her head, “nothing.”

you frowned slightly.

there was that word again.

you hated that word.

alessia laughed, “i’m sorry.”

⸻

when you reached the physio room, alessia stopped.

“there you go.”

you looked at the door.

then back at her.

“gracias.”

simple.

quiet.

but alessia knew by now that simple things from you meant more.“anytime.”

you nodded.

and for a second, neither of you moved.

then you walked inside.

alessia watched you disappear through the door.

and she had absolutely no idea why she was smiling.

⸻

later, when she told kyra she had walked you to physio, kyra immediately looked suspicious.

“you walked her?”

alessia shrugged. “she was lost.”

“and?”

“and i helped her.”

kyra stared. “we had training.”

“i was still on time.”

“barely.”

alessia ignored that.

because it wasn’t a big deal.

it was just helping a teammate.

that was all.

but kyra knew alessia.

and she knew when something was different. “you like her.”

alessia immediately looked offended. “what?”

“nothing.”

“don’t start.”

kyra laughed. “i’m not saying anything.”

but she was smiling.

and that was annoying.

because alessia couldn’t figure out why everyone seemed to think they knew something she didn’t.

there was nothing happening.

you were just new.

she was just being kind.

that was all.

except…

she had walked the wrong direction across the training ground just to spend five extra minutes with you.

and maybe that was something.

but alessia didn’t think about that.

not yet.

because she wasn’t ready to admit that the quiet girl from barcelona was becoming someone she looked for without even realising.

⸻

the thing about getting used to someone was that it never happened all at once.

there was no exact moment where you could point and say that was when we became friends.

it was smaller than that.

quieter.

it happened in the spaces between everything else.

and for you, that was probably why it worked.

you had never been someone who connected with people quickly.

people always assumed the opposite because of football.

because on the pitch, you were confident.

you spoke.

you demanded.

you controlled games like you had been born knowing exactly what to do.

but off the pitch, you were different.

you didn’t like forcing things.

you didn’t like pretending to be closer to someone than you were.

you needed time.

you needed consistency.

you needed to know that someone wasn’t just being nice because they felt sorry for you.

and alessia was consistent.

that was the first thing you noticed.

she didn’t suddenly disappear after helping you find physio.

she didn’t decide she had done enough because you were no longer the new girl.

she just kept showing up.

small things.

always small things.

⸻

the first time she tried speaking spanish to you, it was terrible.

you knew that immediately.

you were walking into training when she appeared beside you, looking far too pleased with herself.

“hola.”

you stopped.

looked at her.

then looked away.

because you were trying very hard not to smile.

alessia noticed. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head.

her eyes narrowed. “you’re doing that thing.”

you looked at her. “que?”

“the thing where you pretend you’re not amused.”

you stared at her.

then finally said:

“your accent.”

alessia looked horrified. “is it that bad?”

you hesitated.

which was enough of an answer.

“oh my god.”

you laughed.

quietly.

barely.

but you did.

and alessia froze for a second because she had still only seen small pieces of that side of you.

the serious y/n.

the quiet y/n.

the focused y/n.

but not the girl who laughed.

“okay,” she said, pretending to be offended. “i’ll practise.”

you nodded. “yes.”

“yes?”

“yes.”

“that’s encouraging.”

you looked at her, “i am encouraging.”

alessia smiled, “you really are, you know.”

you didn’t understand exactly what she meant.

but you understood enough.

and somehow that was becoming normal.

⸻

alessia started learning little things.

she told herself it was practical.

that was the easiest explanation.

you were new.

you needed help.

that was it.

learning a few spanish phrases was normal.

knowing how to pronounce your nickname was normal.

figuring out what coffee you liked was normal.

none of it meant anything.

except she kept doing it.

and everyone noticed.

especially because alessia wasn’t usually this invested in making someone comfortable.

not because she wasn’t kind.

she was.

but she had never been this determined.

“how do you i good morning again?”

she asked laia one day.

laia looked at her. “you’ve asked me that three times.”

“because i want to get it right.”

“alessia.”

“what?”

“you know she understands english, right? like not amazingly, but she’s not an idiot.”

alessia frowned. “i know.”

“then why are you stressing?”

because she wanted to.

but she didn’t say that.

instead she shrugged.

“i just want her to know i’m trying.”

and laia didn’t tease her.

because that answer was actually very alessia.

⸻

the coffee thing happened accidentally.

you had gone into the little cafe near training with mariona before, and alessia happened to see you ordering.

she didn’t mean to listen.

she really didn’t.

but she noticed things.

you always seemed to have a specific way of doing things.

and when the barista handed you your drink, you looked genuinely happier than she had ever seen you.

not smiling.

not dramatically.

just softer.

alessia remembered.

she didn’t even realise she had memorised it until a few days later.

you were running late after training, and she walked over with two coffees.

you looked at one.

then the other.

then her.

“for you.”

you frowned slightly. “why?”

“because you like it.”

you stared at her. “how you know?”

alessia shrugged.

“i had a hunch.”

that was all.

you looked down at the coffee.

then back at her.

“thank you.”

and something about the way you said it made her feel like she had done something much bigger than buy a drink.

⸻

the protein bar was worse.

because that was when alessia started realising you had your own ways of showing things.

she had offered you one after training because you had mentioned being hungry.

you had looked suspiciously at it.

alessia laughed. “it’s not poisoned.”

you looked at her. “i didn’t think that.”

“your face said otherwise.”

you took it anyway.

you tried it.

and then you looked at her.

“very good.”

two words.

that was it.

but the tiny smile that came with it stayed in alessia’s mind for the rest of the day.

because you liked it.

and you had told her.

which, for anyone else, would have been nothing.

but with you?

it felt like a lot.

⸻

but what alessia didn’t realise was that she wasn’t the only one paying attention.

you noticed things too.

you noticed that she always carried extra things because someone always forgot something.

you noticed she tapped her fingers when she was thinking.

you noticed she got quieter when she was tired, even though she tried to pretend she wasn’t.

you noticed she always looked around the room to make sure everyone was included.

and you noticed she like you, was always cold.

that one was obvious.

because one morning, you saw her rubbing her hands together outside.

without thinking, you handed her the gloves alexia had bought for you, knowing you'd insist you didn't need them now, only to be grateful for them later.

and now was later.

she looked at them.

then at you.

“what?”

you frowned. “you are cold.”

alessia blinked. “you’re giving me your gloves?”

“yes.” you shrugged.

“but then you’ll be cold.”

you looked at her. “i’m fine.”

and she laughed because, apparently, that was your answer to everything.

you were fine.

even when you weren’t.

but she took the gloves.

and she kept smiling.

⸻

the jacket thing happened after training.

it was colder than usual.

you had underestimated england again.

alessia noticed.

of course she did.

“you’re freezing.”

you shook your head. “no.”

“you are.”

“no.”

she stared.

you stared back.

and eventually she sighed.

“you’re impossible.”

you didn’t disagree.

then she took off her training jacket and held it out.

you immediately shook your head.

“no.”

“yes.”

“alessia.”

she paused.

because hearing her name from you was still something she wasn’t used to.

quiet.

with your accent.

for some reason, it made her forget her argument for half a second.“take it.”

you hesitated.

because accepting things from people was harder for you than giving.

but eventually, you did.

“thank you.”

and alessia smiled, “you’re welcome.”

⸻

the funny thing was, you thought you were being obvious.

you thought the small things you did meant something.

the way you saved her a seat.

the way you remembered she hated a certain recovery drink.

the way you passed her the ball exactly where she liked it during training.

the way you always checked if she had everything before leaving.

because that was how you cared.

you didn’t say it.

you showed it.

but alessia didn’t know that.

she just assumed you were like that with everyone.

because how could someone as quiet and guarded as you possibly be choosing her?

so she kept telling herself the same thing.

you were teammates.

you were friends.

she was helping you settle in.

that was all.

except everyone else was starting to notice.

especially because alessia russo, who had only known you for two weeks, had somehow learned your habits better than people who had known you for years.

and the strangest part?

you were letting her.

⸻

Your first day back at training had been a whirlwind. You’d gotten there early and sat down with Paul and the main coaching staff. It had been, as you expected, embarrassing, to explain to everyone on the room that you were expecting. Your knees bounced and your face burned the whole duration of the meeting. Thankfully everyone met you with excitement and joy.

The agreement had been that you'd continue training, under the supervision of Paul and his team along with Dr. Stevens, through your first trimester. You’d also expressed to them your desire for secrecy, you didn’t want the rest of the team, or staff to know until you told them.

Unfortunately, that meant Kylie, who you considered your best friend, still didn’t know. You were waiting for the right moment, when you had her alone, or when it felt right, but you had yet to find it.

It was relatively easy to fall back into routine at training. You endured a little teasing from your teammates about the stomach flu taking you down for so long, which you just smiled and agreed. And then there was Jessie.

Jessie, who would give you too long of a knowing glare anytime you joked about the flu, who you’d catch watching you more than normal, who would make comments about taking it easy or hydrating enough under her breath to you. She meant well, you knew that, she was looking out for the baby and you. But it was overbearing.

You hadn’t really spoken since she’d left your apartment. Not regarding the baby, there hadn’t been any texts or calls after that fight. Being stubborn, you refused to reach out to her first, and knowing her, you expected she was holding the same stance. So you continued in silence. You orbited around each other in practice, quick but harsh glances at each other, only communicating regarding training. A wall of guilt had started to build, you’d started to recognize how poorly you’d handled things, specifically things with Jessie. The longer you avoided each other, the worse you felt.

It was difficult. You didn’t want to avoid her, you hated it. Jessie had been one of your closer friends over the past few years, leading to how you’d ended up beneath her in the first place. She was a safe place to you, safe enough to tell your fears to, to share embarrassing stories, to ultimately share your body with.

But that had changed. There was a new tension, a deep feeling of uncertainty when you’d look at her, you of course still trusted her and cared so deeply about her, but there was something else, there was someone else, a person the two of you had made and now, forever, the two of you were permanently tied together, linked in some way.

It was your fourth day back at training when Jessie finally had enough. You were filling your water bottle after recovery and checking in with Paul. You hear the door open and then shut and then you hear the turn of a lock, causing your head to whip around.

There stood Jessie, still sweaty from training, her hair slicked back into a ponytail. “You’re avoiding me.” She sets her tracker back onto the charger and moves over toward you.

“I’m not.” You turn back to filling your bottle.

“You are.”

“You’re the one who left my place.”

“Yeah because you dropped giant news on me, I needed a little bit to process, I’m sure you can understand that given you took days to process before you even told me.”

“Oh my god Jess.” You threw your head back momentarily before looking at her. “Get over it!”

“No!” She came closer toward you, pushing herself onto the table. “I’m allowed to be upset about being kept in the dark, you don’t get to tell me otherwise. And then you tell me that I don’t have to be involved, that’s not your choice. It’s your choice to keep the baby, but I want to be involved.”

“You actually want to be involved?” Maybe it was ignorant of you to assume otherwise, but you expected the baby to scare anyone. Even Jessie who was so family oriented, who was so caring, who you’d seen babysit your teammates babies happily. But you’d assumed she’d want nothing to do with you. “Not just the playing with the baby, I mean involved with all of it, all the late nights, the days when we’re traveling, if the baby gets sick, the mental load of that, the emotional load that comes with it, not to mention the physical tax, you really want that? Because if you’re not one hundred percent, don’t tell me you’re in.”

“God, yes, of course. I mean did I expect to have a baby, no, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to step up.” She pauses. “I want to be there, not just for them, but for you too. Whatever you need, I can’t imagine how this is for you.”

Taking a sip of your water, you look at Jessie. “Fine. I have an appointment this afternoon. I’ll text you the details. You want to be involved, be there.”

“Really?” Her eyes light up at the offer.

“Yeah. Really.”

Jessie is quiet in the waiting room. She doesn’t ask questions, she hardly looks at you. She even double checks with you that you want her to come back into the exam room when the nurse calls your name. She quietly sits while the nurse gets your vitals and initial information, making fleeting eye contact with you. The nurse brings in the ultrasound machine, commenting that the doctor would likely want to do one later, and then she leaves.

Jessie stared horrified at the ultrasound wand, finally speaking up. “That’s, going to go..?” She looked down to your lap then back to the wand.

“Yep, sure is, super uncomfortable.” You return deadpanned.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes as if she’s the one causing the discomfort, and in a way that makes you feel better. At least she was understanding what you were already having to deal with, let alone what you were going to experience over the upcoming months.

You quickly fall back into uncomfortable silence until Dr. Stevens knocks and enters. She quickly greets you before turning to Jessie and begins to introduce herself, assuming she was your friend along for emotional support, you quickly interject.

“She’s actually the reason I’m here, it’s her baby too, she’s the other parent.” You can see Jessie’s shoulders sink slightly as you blame her for being in this situation.

“Oh how exciting, well it’s very nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other a lot more.”

“Yeah,” Her smile grows wide for a minute. “I’m, I’m excited.”

She turns back to her desk, rifling through paperwork. “Okay, so blood work from the last appointment looks good, nothing to be worried about yet. How have you been feeling?”

“Exhausted, but it seems like for no reason, I’ve been sleeping better, I pee, a lot. But beyond that, things are weirdly normal.”

“The exhaustion is normal, unfortunately. It might not seem like a lot is going on right now, but your body is growing a human, it’s a small human right now but that takes a lot of energy. As for the peeing, normal also, your body is making more blood, for the baby, this means your kidneys are working overtime, you generate more urine.” She writes notes in your chart. “The exhaustion should get better here as you finish out your first trimester. I’d like to do another ultrasound, get measurements again, make sure baby is measuring about 9 weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay, you know the drill, everything off from the waist down, here’s the cover, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She stands up and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Jessie again in an uneasy silence.

“I didn’t know you were already 9 weeks.” Jessie’s voice is hesitant, the tension still obvious between the two of you.

“You never asked.” You snap back as you stand up from the table grabbing the paper sheet and unfolding it. Your thumbs grab the waist of your shorts and you notice Jessie’s head snap up as she decides to be very interested in the ceiling tiles.

“Jess.”

“What?” She says, head still tilted back.

“You literally put this baby in me, it’s fine if you see me change.” You almost laugh. Despite still being frustrated with her, something about her really makes it hard for you to stay mad. She drops her head back down but her eyes remain averted as you remove your shorts.

Dr. Stevens comes back a few minutes later. You lay back on the table and place your feet on the stirrups. Jessie stands from the chair and moves toward your side, mumbling something about not wanting you to feel exposed.

You wince and the cold gel and the feeling of the wand. You couldn’t wait for the baby to be big enough for a stomach ultrasound. Dr Stevens moves the wand around for a minute before she turns the screen toward you and Jessie.

“There’s your baby.” She points to the screen. “There’s their head, their body. It’s a little hard to see details, but they’re growing.”

You look away from the screen to see Jessie’s face. Her mouth is slightly open, eyebrows raised and her eyes have a look of adoration that you’re not sure you’d ever seen from her. As if she can feel you looking up at her she tilts her head slightly to look at you, a toothy smile breaking across face, her eyes glossy with tears.

Despite Jessie's obvious joy, for the first time you feel bad. A pit in your stomach grows as you look at Jessie’s face, full of love and amazement. She was so joyful, seeing the baby you’d made together. You begin to feel tears building in your own eyes, guilt building inside of you for shutting out Jessie. You blink hard trying to displace the tears.

Jessie looks away from you and back to the screen. You stay watching her. Watching how she looks as if she’s trying to memorize the ultrasound, how her fingers are fidgeting with each other, giving away that she’s equally in awe as she is nervous. You remember this is her first time actually seeing the baby. She’s seen the photo, but that wasn’t the same. Seeing the tiny movements, hearing their heartbeat, was so much more than a photo.

Without thinking much of it you lift your hand from the table beside you and grab at hers. It takes her a moment before she allows you to hold her hand. They’re a little clammy, but you’re pretty sure yours is too. You give her hand a gentle squeeze and she returns the gesture. She brings her other hand up to her cheek, wiping away a small tear.

“Everything here looks good.” Dr. Stevens says, breaking your stare at Jessie. “I’ll get some photos printed for both of you. Looks like baby is measuring closer to 10 weeks, about 9 weeks, 5 days to be more exact.”

When the doctor leaves the room to grab the photos you turn to Jessie again. The guilt still heavy on your chest, attempting to apologize was the least you could do, even if you were still half naked covered by a flimsy sheet.

“Jessie, I owe you an apology. For,” you pause, exhaling hard, “for everything. For how long I waited to tell you, for not involving you, for how poor my word choices were the other day. I promise, you are not what makes this embarrassing.” You notice the reaction in Jessie’s face when you recall your words.

“Am I embarrassed? Yeah a little bit, but I think I’d be embarrassed telling people I was pregnant if I’d been 30 and married for years. The idea of people knowing, that’s embarrassing, you should’ve seen me trying to tell the staff.” You ramble. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry Jessie. This baby being half you, is not embarrassing, or humiliating. It actually means the kid will probably turn out pretty great, no thanks to me.”

“Thanks.” Her tight lipped smile tells you what you said hasn’t been enough.

You sit up from the table, your face getting to be more level with hers. “I know that isn’t enough to make up for it, I don’t know if I’ll ever have enough words to make up for it, but I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that. I’m not going to lie and say that everything here is okay, but I appreciate the start, and I appreciate you letting me come along to this, I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m violating your privacy, I just want to be informed and involved.”

“I know, I’ll do better.” You put your feet onto the floor before pointing to the stack of your clothes. “Can you hand me those?”

You’re pulling up your shorts when Jessie lets out a snicker at her phone. Instantly you feel annoyed. Who could she possibly be texting that’s making her laugh while she’s sitting here with you. You're taken aback by the feeling, why should you be bothered if she’s texting someone else.

“What?” You quickly snap at her.

“Oh, uh I was just doing the math, on 9 weeks, 5 days.” She holds up her phone, the calendar on display. A small part of you is relieved she wasn’t texting someone. You try to push the thought of jealousy from your mind.

“Oh.”

“I mean I know she said that’s not exact, but uh, that was pretty much exactly after the Seattle game.” She looks at you with a half smirk.

You almost laugh, just as she had. The two days after the Seattle game had been something you thought about fondly, and way too often when you were alone. It had been one of your longest escapades with Jessie. You tried to stop thinking about it, but you couldn’t, the memories flooding your mind.you couldn’t stop thinking.

Thinking too deeply about the way Jessie’s fingers had gripped your hips so tightly, you’d woken up to yellow bruises the next morning. You think too deeply about how hot she’d looked between your thighs as she devoured you like she was starving. You think too much about how long she’d lasted and how eager she was for round after round until the both of you lay spent on the floor of your bedroom. Your cheeks start to burn when you remember the sounds she’d made in your ear and how she’d whined your name. You feel your thighs tighten, pressing them together.

And then suddenly you’re aware that you’re standing in the doctor’s office, with Jessie looking up at you as you stared, completely zoned out.

You clear your throat, “yeah, that weekend was, something.”

“Yep.” Jessie says, giving you a tight lipped smile. You notice how she adjusted her shorts quickly before her hands fell clasped across her lap in a concealing manner. You’re pretty sure she was just having the same flashbacks that you were.

You meet her eyes for a second before glancing back at her lap. “So, any chance you want to come over to my place?”

Of course Jessie agreed to follow you home. She couldn’t resist the offer, she couldn’t resist you. She walked into your apartment already sporting an almost painful erection, much to your appeasement.

“Someone’s ready.” You tease, palming her though her shorts.

“Don’t.” Jessie complains about the teasing.

“Oh you don't want me to touch you?” You pull your hand away slowly. She jolts, grabbing your wrist and bringing it back to her bulge.

“No, no, I do, that’s, yeah, I want that.”

“That’s what I thought.” Finding the button on her shorts you quickly have them loose around her hips, you don’t bother pulling them down. Instead you splay your hand across her abdomen, slowly sliding it to the waistband of her boxers before you pause.

Admittedly, you liked to tease Jessie, get her worked up until she was thrusting into the air, until she was begging, you liked watching her lose her composure. Just as she was now, her breathing was becoming labored as your fingertips brushed her waist, being so close yet what felt like miles away from where she wanted your touch. You could see the muscles along her abdomen, pelvis, and thighs all twitch at the slightest movement.

What really gave away her eagerness was the slow growing wet spot on her boxers. You let your thumb drop to it, feeling the outline of her head through the fabric. Jessie nearly moans at the indirect touch.

“Maybe I should just make you cum in your shorts.” Halfheartedly threatening her, you increase the pressure of your hand.

“You know it wouldn’t take much.”

“I know.” It was satisfying having this power over her. Moving away from the head you let your hand cup her, dragging your fingertips softly over her length. “Lucky for you, I’m not going to.”

You finally breach the waistband of her shorts and are met with the instant heat of her skin. Grasping her, you pull her cock out, shimmying down her shorts and boxers so they rested around her knees. You let out a sigh of satisfaction seeing her, pre cum already flowing from her tip.

Wetting your hand with your own spit you firmly grab the base of her erection and begin slowly pumping your hand along the length.

“Remember the first one I gave you?” You say, pleased with yourself when Jessie’s face flushes a deeper red.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” She drops her head back as you begin to give special attention to her head, your thumb continuing to tease where her precum continued to leak. “How could I forget that?”

You smile thinking back to it. It had been early on in your friends with benefits agreement. It was a media day, instead of being dressed in training gear, the team had been outfitted by a luxury clothing brand. You specifically had been dressed in a lower cut, form fitting top. Jessie, outfitted in rather tight dress pants, had been sporting a less than subtle erection that whole afternoon. She’d made comments in passing about how you looked, so when the day was over the two of you waited, you let the locker room clear out, the staff go home and then finally when it was just the two of you, you'd both climbed into your car, and with one hand you drove home, and the other you made Jessie a whimpering mess in your passenger seat. You were pretty sure there was still a small, but noticeable stain on the seat.

Coming back to reality you realized your hand had gone still on Jessie’s dick, instead of complaining, she’d simply begun thrusting into your fist. When your eyes meet hers she apologizes briefly.

“Sorry, I just, your hand feels good.” The movement of her hips doesn’t stop, but it slows slightly.

“Be my guest, if you want to get off in my hand that’s cool, I was going to offer elsewhere but.” You teasingly mention and Jessie’s hips stop, the head of her cock just barely through the O formed by your thumb and forefinger.

“Elsewhere?” Her hands come to grab your hips. She spins you in her grip and takes a few steps, encouraging you to move forward until your hips meet your kitchen counter. One hand moves to splay against your back, pushing you to bend over the counter. Her other hand finds your ass, before sliding between your thighs. With three fingers she firmly presses against your clothed lips. “Elsewhere, like here?”

“Exactly.” You try to not let on to how much her movement has impacted you. The timid, quiet, gentle Jessie that the public knew, was different from the controlling, dominant, and unabashed Jessie that you got in the bedroom, or the kitchen. She wasn’t always like this, just when she’d been worked up, or had a rough day, when she was high strung, that’s when you got the other side of her.

Jessie hums behind you, her fingers still between your thighs, putting pressure where you were most sensitive, you let out a breath against the granite as she starts to circle her fingers.

“You’re going to make me ruin my shorts.” You complain.

“Hmm, maybe that would be fair considering I’m going home in stained boxers,”

“Jess.”

“Okay, okay.” Obliging you, she quickly pulls down your shorts and panties.

“Stay like that.” And then her footsteps are walking away. A short moment later she returns and you hear an all too familiar rustling. She’d gotten a condom. Going against her direction you prop on your forearms and turn to look at her.

“You know,” you pause, looking at Jessie and then down to the foil wrapped in her hand, “technically, that’s doing nothing.” You point at the condom.

“Huh?” She looks up at you, still looking scattered, her burgeoning erection clearly borrowing the blood from her brain.

“I’m pregnant, the condom isn’t preventing that anymore.” You explain watching Jessie continue to stare at you, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly agape. When she doesn’t move, you continue.

“So, if you don’t want to wear it, don’t, it’s literally providing nothing.” It was true, you were already pregnant, not like it had even prevented that in the first place. You were clean, Jessie was clean, it helped that you frequently got tested, as did she, you knew there wasn’t any risk just seeing each other.

“Oh, you mean,” she stammers over her words as she glances down to where your core ached for her. Gone was her dominant personality, replaced by an unsure, meek Jessie. “I mean, that’s up to you.” She says. “It’s just a habit, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but it feels better without it, right?” You cock your head toward her.

“Uh, yeah I mean it supposed to, so probably.” Jessie scratches the back of her neck, suddenly avoiding eye contact with you.

“You’ve never tried it?” You were a little shocked, Jessie had been adamant about protection, but you were surprised that she hadn’t been more careless in her younger years.

“No. I haven’t. I just have always used a condom, except the one time when we got carried away,” she begins wildly gesturing, a sign she’s flustered “but that wasn’t even, I didn’t even go all the way in, so technically, sure, because of that instance, but also no, never more than just what we did, so, no, I haven’t tried it.”

Her rambling was cute, you had to admit to yourself. The way she got flustered and tripped over her words, the way she’d blink quicker than normal, it was charming.

“Do you want to?”

“Want to what?” She looks confused. Sometimes you wondered how she was so smart.

“Fuck me without it.” You lift up from the countertop enough to reach the foil out of her hand. You place it back on the countertop and return to bending over.

Taking a step closer to you, Jessie’s hands find your hips. She pushes them gently, angling your hips to present yourself better to her. “Are you sure?”

Turning your head over your shoulder you reach back blindly before you find her cock, grasping it and pulling her slightly to encourage her to step forward, until her blunt head is at your entrance. “I’m sure.”

Not needing to be reassured any further, Jessie runs the tip of her cock across your lips, mixing her precum with your arousal. She gives a few short thrusts across your clit that have you dropping your head to your forearms in pleasure.

When you feel her at your entrance again, you turn back to watch her. Slowly she begins to press into you.

“Oh, oh.” Jessie pauses, her hips stuttering before she’s even fully inside of you. A wave of satisfaction rushes over you, watching how easily she was falling apart. Her eyes were shut, her grip on your hips tight. Her head falls forward as she bottoms out inside of you.

Admittedly the feeling wasn’t much different to you. The heat from her cock was the main difference, it was a different feeling of closeness and connection. It was also beyond satisfying to see how weak Jessie had become from the new sensation.

It’s a second before she opens her eyes and looks at you with a half apologetic and half embarrassed smile.“Fuck, you can’t make fun of me for this.” She shakes her head.

“For what?”

“For how fast this is going to be over.” She mutters before picking up her pace, thrusting herself fully into you.

Jessie pulls out so that just the tip remains inside of you.

“Hang on.” You hear her say, prompting you to turn over, seeing her taking a deep breath. Her eyes are half closed, her bottom lip pulled tight between her teeth. Between your bodies was her cock, still standing firmly, shining in the light with your wetness.

“Don’t.” She holds up a finger to you, silencing the snarky comment on your tongue. Instead you just give her a knowing look, pride building as you look at how weak you’d made her.

“Good then?”

“Almost too good.” She says as she drops to her knees her hands on the backs of your thighs. “I can’t leave you hanging.”

Her hand taps on the inside of your thigh, encouraging you to widen your stance. Not wasting time, her mouth is between your legs. You curse into the counter as her lips wrap themselves around your clit and her tongue circles it softly. Your fingers that usually find purchase in Jessie's hair could only claw at the stone as she teased you. “Jess, please.”

Releasing your clit her tongue made its way to your entrance, teasing around it before she dipped the tip inside of you, a satisfied hum coming from her. You could hear the sounds of her tongue lapping at your pooling arousal, switching between burying her tongue inside your tunnel and tracing around it. Jessie was never one to rush pleasing you. Being between your legs and making you weak in the knees always had her aching.

Deciding to finally give you what you needed, Jessie moved back to your clit, her lips forming a light suction around the nerves while her tongue painted flat stroked across it. It was simple, but she knew it was exactly what you needed. And by the noises you made, she smiled against your slick skin in satisfaction.

Confirming her suspicion, your legs began to quiver with each brush of her tongue. The pleasure building in your stomach as she brought you closer to the edge. You grit your teeth at the overwhelming feeling, teetering on the edge for a moment before crashing over it. Slamming your eyes shut, you let out a moan, your hands in tight fists as your legs nearly gave out underneath you.

Panting you crack one eye open when you feel the warmth of Jessie’s mouth leave. She plants a few kisses to your thighs and ass as she stands up from where she had been kneeling. You catch her quickly rubbing her knees in discomfort.

“You know, you could've asked for a pillow, or I would’ve moved to the couch.”

“I’m fine, plus having you bent over for me is very hot.” She bends down again, one hand pushing the hem of your shirt up your back. Her mouth comes and follows the fabric leaving a trail of kisses upward. “Take this off hmm?” She mumbles into your skin. Half standing up your hands help her to remove your shirt and bra, her hands immediately cup your breasts.

Her thumbs each flick over your nipples causing you to arch into her hands. “Sorry, they’re a bit more sensitive than normal.”

“No complaints from me, let me know if it’s too much.” Her left hand reminds you of your chest, playing with your hardened nipple. Her right hand falls between her own legs, grasping her still hard cock and giving it a few pumps.

She lines up for the second time that afternoon, this time fully thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You sighed at the feeling of being filled with her again. Your walls are still aroused and sensitive from the orgasm you swear you could feel her better.

The drag of her inside of you as she thrust felt indescribably different, in an amazing way. You loved feeling the definition of her inside of you. You loved feeling how her head would stretch you out just slightly more before she'd thrust back into you.

As she had predicted, it wasn’t long before her thrusts started coming quickler, becoming shallower. Her small grunts turn into nearly growls with each motion. She bends over, covering more of your body with hers while also pulling you up slightly using the hand that remained on your chest.

“Oh fuck.” Her breath is hot on your ear. “I’m so close. You feel so fucking good.” She plants a kiss on your neck before pushing you back to the hard surface. Both of her hands now finding a resting place on your hips

Instead of thrusting into you, she pulls at your hips, sliding you back onto her. She leaves you full for a second before pushing you forward again. The subtle drag of your nipples on the cool countertop has you nearly squirming out of her grip.

“I’m gonna to cum.” You feel her forehead rest between your shoulder blades, she slows her thrusts ever so slightly. “Where do you want me to,” her voice strained as she asks, realizing you hadn't clarified if she was still supposed to pull out.

Cutting her off, you drop your head to your forearms “Inside,” you moan before adding, “please.”

Jessie doesn’t ask twice. Her fingers adjust their grip and she pushes you impossibly harder into the countertop. Snapping her hips into you at a relenting pace you can’t help but whine into your arms. Still sensitive from your earlier orgasm, her sharp, deep motion has your thighs beginning to shake.

“Mmm, oh my god.” She breathlessly huffs behind you. Her pace quickens, short and rough thrusts before she buries herself completely into you with a chesty groan. She bends down, her body engulfing yours on the countertop. Her mouth meets your shoulder, biting the flesh there in an attempt to muffle her sounds. You can feel the way her cock twitches inside of you and then you feel the warmth. She pulses a few times, draining herself into you before she lifts her chest from your back.

“Oh my god.” When you turn, she looks dumbfounded. “Sorry about that.” She gently rubs her fingers over the redness of her teeth marks sat on your shoulder.

You push yourself up from the counter and Jessie steps back, letting her softening cock slip out of you. All too pleased with yourself, you turn ready to gloat. “So I’m guessing, it feels pretty good without the condom.”

“Yeah.” Jessie pushes loose hairs from her forehead, attempting to tame them. “Pretty fucking good.”

You bring your hand between your legs, feeling the mixture of both of your cum. You bring your fingers up to look at. You’d seen it before, when you're given her handjobs, or when you’ve used your mouth on her, but something about knowing she’d finished inside of you, that in a way she’d claimed you, that had your stomach turning.

For a second you look back at Jessie and have the urge to grab her face and put your lips on hers. You want to kiss her.

But you don’t, you couldn’t. So instead you bring your fingers to your mouth and suck them clean with a slightly exaggerated moan.

Jessie shakes her head and looks down at her dick. “Keep that up and I’ll be ready to go again.”

“You’re always ready to go again.” You tease, leaning over to trace the shell of her ear with your tongue. “You’re always so hard for me.” As you reach to play with her, in anticipation for round two, your phone rings on the counter.

“Oh, fuck!” You hiss, seeing your Mom’s name across your ringing phone. “Fuck, fuck.” You quickly grab it, answering.

“Hi Mom.” You look across to Jessie who’s still standing naked in your kitchen, eyes now wide as she watches you on the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there, I got out of training late, I still have to shower, but I’ll be there.” You quickly say goodbye to your Mom before hanging up and looking sheepishly at Jessie.

“I guess that’s my cue to get out of here.” Jessie says, you can sense a bit of disappointment on her face and in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I completely forgot my mom, she’s in town, I’m supposed to be getting her from the airport and we’re going to dinner.”

“Oh. Are you going to tell her, you know, about,” she points a finger to your stomach.

You scratch the back of your neck. “Uh, I don’t know. I really hadn't thought about it.”

“That’s up to you.” Jessie shrugs

“No, we're not doing that anymore. I know I said there wasn’t an ‘us’ and there isn’t not in a relationship way, but there’s an ‘us’ in a, we both are parents to this baby, way.” You sigh as you grab your bra. “So, if you don't want her to know yet, I’ll wait.”

“I’m good either way, just tell me what you decide.” Jessie says as she holds out your panties and shorts out to you, squatted down to help you put them on.

You oblige her and step into the shorts. “You know I don't need this kind of help yet, maybe once I’m 9 months along and can’t see my feet.”

“I know.” Jessie says as she pulls them to your hips, your hands find hers and helps adjust the fabric to fit just right. “But it's good practice.” She smiles her face an inch from yours. The urge hits you again. You want your lips on hers. You can’t help but look at her lips, your eyes catch on the freckle on her bottom lip before you look back up to her. You're not sure if she noticed but Jessie is watching you with a new intensity.

Her tongue peaks out, wetting her bottom lip before she clears her throat and breaks away from her stare. “I’ll uh, see you tomorrow.” She turns, sliding her shoes on at the door. You can’t tell for sure but you're convinced she has a renewed blush across her cheeks. “Let me know if you need anything, let me know how your mom is, tell her I say hello.”

“I will, goodnight Jess, text me when you get home safe.”

She develops a reputation both for being a sharpshooter and a super scary assassin. And somewhere along the way, Alexia and Jenni both develop a fascination with her because she’s lowkey really hot.

So Alexia somehow wins Misa’s loyalty. Not sure on this part yet, but I imagine her explaining it to R like, “Misa wasn’t appreciated there. Too many idiots thinking they were better than her because they could pull a trigger too. But we didn’t make that mistake.”

And I really like the idea that, even know she doesn’t have names, R’s family were very aware of Misa and talked about her like a boogy man. Like the eyebrowed assassin that carves up their men the messiest. So R knows who she is (at least, through rumours) but then she meets her and it becomes hard to square the circle because she’s giggly and goofy and also hot.

And one night R’s asks Alexia why she trusts Misa so much when she knows Misa has defected in the past. Alexia smiles and explains that Misa is a mirror. If you show her treachery, she’ll stab you in the back. If you show her anger, she’ll erupt.

“Please baby! Wanna suck your cock,” you’re staring up at Alessia with the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster up. you’re currently on your knees in front of her…..you also just so so happen to be in your parent’s basement away on holiday. Your girlfriend just stares down at you with beet red cheeks, huffing out a sigh as she tries to ease you back onto the couch. “Darling we can’t. I’ll make it up to you as soon as we get home, alrig—“

“But you promised, Less!” Your girlfriend clamps a hand over your mouth at that, a scowl settling into her features as her other one gets a tight grip on the back of your neck. “Stop being a brat,” she gives a good tug to the hairs at the nape of your neck for good measure. That just goes in one ear and out the other, because you’re rolling your eyes before the words even get out. She almost lets it slide, too…until you lick her hand covering your mouth, leaving the blonde striker to gasp out in disgust as she pulls it away.

“What the hell is your problem?” Alessia whisper shouts down to you, wiping her palm onto the thigh of her pants.

And you finally start climbing up onto the couch, but the sight soon takes a turn as you straddle your girlfriend’s lap. “My problem is that my super sexy girlfriend has been discretely grinding up on me all damn day, and now that we’re finally alone she won’t fuck me with the strap I know she’s been wearing…” There’s a pout on your lips now, “…and you promised I could suck you off when everyone was asleep.”

You make sure to roll your hips down into hers as you finish, the base of the strap hitting your girlfriend in just the right spot. Alessia throws her head back against the top of the couch, her hands coming up onto your waist to stop your movements. “Don’t say it like that!” she chastises you.

“Make me,” you cross your arms across your chest as you muster up the best glare you can achieve.

“You aren’t even the least bit intimidating, love.” Alessia can’t help the smile breaking out across her face. You trying to scare her is like a mouse trying to jump scare a lion. “Fine!” You huff out with frustrated sigh, throwing yourself up and turning away from the couch. “I‘ll just get myself off then.”

You’re pulled back by your wrist— all the air getting knocked out of your lungs as your back hits the couch in record time. “You’re so bloody annoying,” it’s mumbled against your neck as Alessia’s hands start sliding off your shorts and panties. Her kisses make you bite your bottom lip, raising your hips up as you let her strip you in the dark of the night.

“And you’re a fucking tease,” you reach down to start undoing her pants. Your fingers toy with the strings tied around her waist for a second before your trying to tear them off form the angle your at.

“So impatient you are,” Alessia giggles against your jaw. Her hands replace yours as she stands up for a second to slide the grey sweats down her legs and kick them off somewhere. She’s back on top of you in no time, grinding the silicone dick attached to her hips between your pussy lips.

Your back arches up a little when the tip starts hitting your clit in a rhythm, Alessia’s chest smushing against yours. You’re trying to move a certain way so she might ‘accidentally’ slip in, but Alessia isn’t stupid. She’s attuned to your body and its movements. She knows exactly what you need before even you do. No one can make you cum like Alessia— not even yourself.

“Gotta stay quiet for me, okay baby?” She’s kissing your ear as she says it, her hands running under your shirt to pinch at your sensitive nipples. “Can’t have your Mum thinking any differently of me just cause I treat her daughter like a whore in bed.”

You’re nodding your head as you stare up at her with wide eyes, trying to grind your hips down in time with hers so she’ll maybe give into your desperate hints. “Use your words, love.”

You give her that little smile she can’t ever resist, “I promise I can stay quiet, Lessi. Now would you please make me feel good?”

The next thing heard between the two of you is the gasp you both let out when she slips in for the first time. Your pussy is so tight that Alessia has to inch her way in, slowly letting you adjust before she fucks you into the cushions. When she bottoms out she starts pressing kisses to your chest, waiting on your signal for the go ahead.

It takes a few minutes, your hand coming down to play with her blonde hair as you take deep breaths. It isn’t too long though. Because the fire that starts burning in your belly is enough to have you tugging at the strands, begging for her to just move already.

And Alessia never had to be told twice— at least not once she’s already 7 inches deep inside of you. There’s no stopping her then. She drags his hips back till just the tip is lodged inside your cunt, and then she’s slamming back down until the harness is bumping into your clit.

It has you biting your bottom lip to silence the moans bubbling up in your throat. The couch below you creeks as she sets a pace rough enough to have your eyes crossing already. She’s had you wound up all day long, teasing touches and fleeting glances with promises of more. It’s impossible for you to be anything other than absolutely wrecked in these circumstances.

Alessia’s head disappears under your shirt, her mouth attaching to your nipples as she angles her hips to fuck you a little deeper. It sends sparks of electricity to shoot through your nerves, a cloudy haze encompassing your mind and soul. It has you forgetting any and everything— your brain turning to complete mush as Alessia bullies her strap into your pussy.

And in this moment of blurry pleasure…you let a moan break through your lips. It’s loud and desperate with a whiney tint to the tone. You don’t even realize you’ve fucked up until a rough hand is clamping down onto your mouth. Alessia brings her face down to your neck, a growl vibrating against your ear. “Shut.Your.Fucking.Mouth,” accompanied by extra hard thrusts sent to emphasize her point.

There’s a fire behind her eyes now, one you can barely make out through the darkness. But even if you couldn’t see it— you feel it. In the way her pace speeds up and her grip on your body gets rougher as her nails dig in. You know you’ll be covered in crescent moon shaped bruises tomorrow, but that’s the best part. Being able to trace over the evidence of the love you two make. It’s intoxicating.

Alessia sneaks a hand down to start rubbing at your clit as she speaks her next words, “Once you cum all over my cock then you clean it off. Since that’s what you couldn’t stop whining about,” she scoffs out a dark laugh. “Making me fuck you with your family upstairs—“ She slams in a little harder than before as she stills for a second, letting her hand on your clit trace up your body before she presses down on your lower stomach.

“You feel me right here, darling?”

You’re nodding your head as best as you can with her still covering your mouth. Your legs start to shake as she forces you to feel her. Feel every single vein, ridge, and inch shoved to the brink inside your tight hole. Its leaking out and staining the basement couch of your childhood home, but honesty what else are basement couches made for other then nasty fuck sessions at 2am ?!

She surprises you when she pulls out again, thrusting back in as she keeps her hand firmly pressed to your abdomen. The added pressure has you squirming away from her, never before sensing a pleasure quite like this one. It has Alessia chuckling softly, pinning your hips down with her own, keeping the thrusts short but powerful to keep you in place. There’s a light sweat dusting across your body now, the flames of your building orgasm finally heating the rest of your body up. Alessia’s movements start to get impatient herself, turning a little sloppy as she tries to fight off her own building orgasm.

“grace” you say as firmly as you can “stop it”

your girlfriend merely snickers and pokes your warm cheek in response “you’re goin’ a bit red there. was it somethin’ i said?”

your face heats up more and you begin to push her hand away so you don’t draw the attention of the girls around you.

you loved having grace back with you at united, but you had somehow forgotten how much she didn’t mind embarrassing you with her over the top flirting in public.

she continues to snicker and whisper things in your ear as the two of you do your workouts. she’s subtle enough that she won’t get told off for it, but not subtle enough that you don’t go bright red.

you’re on the bike when grace hooks her chin over your shoulder and places her hand over yours on the handle. you can feel her smirk against your ear as she talks.

“have i ever told you how good your bum looks in these shorts?” she whispers to you, playing with the hem of your training shorts “gonna look a lot better on my floor”

your face goes beet red just as ella passes. she cocks her head and smirks “a bit red there, y/l/n”

before you can even think of a rebuttal, grace jumps to your defence.

“piss off tooney” she says lightly enough that it’s not offensive, but with enough bite that ella knows she isn’t really joking.

ella waves grace off and goes back to what she was doing, leaving the two of you to it.

“smooth clinton” you say as she lifts her chin off your shoulder