MeA

esmee stayed quiet for a beat, then spoke, voice softer than the rest as she pictures your kind face inside of her mind, “it is... but i remember her from heinenoord.”

the chatter paused as heads turned, even kika looked up from her phone.

"you played with her?" patri asked in broken english, her eyebrows clenching in confusion.

“yes, we played together,” esmee answered, with her eyes distant for a second before she continued, “back when we were kids it was just me and her among all the boys. she was super kind and she always shared her water bottle with me. there was... um... there was one time where we would trade shin guards because mine were always too tight or hers looked cooler. and once—” she smiled, it was small but everyone noticed, “this boy kept bullying me on the pitch, shoving me out of drills and always side tackled me... y/n bullied him back for me.... it’s been nine years, but i still remember her clearly.”

patri raised an eyebrow, seeing the underlying emotion behind esmee's eyes, but choosing not to say anything about it, “so this is a proper reunion then.”

“yeah,” esmee said, tucking a loose curly strand of her unbraided hair behind her ear, “I figure that she might remember me too... it's been ten years but we were basically together back then.”

alexia chuckled, “well, this’ll be nice. you can welcome an old friend here to barça.”

the door swung open right then, almost on cue as you walk through the door with your black adidas kit bag over one shoulder. you stood there, at first looking confident then shy, as if you've rehearsed your meeting with this new team.

the room lit up instantly at your appearance and kika was first, jumping up to wrap arms around tightly.

“welcome, y/n!!! we are so glad to have you here,” she said, voice bright, “I'm serious... I heard that your speed is going to change everything up front.”

you chuckle, "I hope so, I am happy to be here with you guys!'

as you pulled away from the hug with kika, aitana pulled in next from the left with her shorter body being warm, “welcome, y/n... I agree with kika here, you’ll fit right in we'll make sure of it!"

you smiled, nodding almost in awe at the ballon d'or winner before ewa followed, with her embrace much firmer, “they were just talking about you," ewa says, which gets a confused look out of you before the polish woman continued, "nothing wrong of course! its mostly excitement, since we know that you've been at chelsea for a long time!"

"yeah that's true," you sigh, "but I just needed a change," you kept your response simple, knowing there was more to your transfer than most realized.

after ewa, patri gave a quick squeeze to the left side of your body, “hello, finally.” as pina grinned from the floor, “bona tarda”

sydney nodded with a friendly hug from behind, which got a chuckle out of you, “welcome miss l/n! I heard you're getting number 15, is that so?"

you turned out, looking at sydney face to face as she smiles, "I am, gratefully."

"did you wish that it was number 44?" sydney asked, referring to your old number at chelsea.

"no um..." you sigh, looking around at all of your teammates who are listening while observing the bittersweet look on your face , "I'm glad for the new number, since it feels like new start."

alexia wrapped last, lightly pulling you back around towards the main part of the locker room, “enough with the youngling's questions... it's good to have you.”

so many voices overlapped with questions about the flight, the london goodbye, and how barcelona felt so far after the sudden transfer. the air smelled of fresh kit, menthol rub, and strawberry quite strangely.

esmee hung back near her locker, watching the line move, almost waiting her turn like it mattered more than the others.

when the space finally cleared and your eyes met her brown ones, something flickered inside of your mind.

that face, this girl's face!! it looked so familiar that your brain tripped over itself trying to place it. she is super cute, too, with her curly hair tied back loose in a low bun and you can tell that she is confident by the way shoulders sat.

the smile on your face crept up fast, and your voice started to get lower, almost from shyness.

“hiiiii,” came out small. then, almost immediately, “what’s your name?”

everything froze, and you noticed that when kika’s mouth dropped mid-sentence, caro and marta looked at eachother in confusion, patri paused with her boot half-laced and alexia’s eyebrows shot up.

the room held one collective what.

esmee blinked, then chuckled in a forgiving sense, “my name is esmee,” she said, “and... um... i thought you’d remember because of heinenoord.”

your eyes widened, with embarrassment hitting your chest like a missed shot in front of goal.

“oh shit! I am so sorry!,” words rushed out, “i really don’t remember much from that time at all. it’s been like... maybe nine years and everything from back then feels like a blur now, please forgive me!”

your arms opened anyway, pulling esmee in and the hug landed warm, lingering a second longer than the rest. all you can smell is her shea butter scented conditioner mixed with locker-room air, “but i’m happy to be playing with you again,” you added softly, “truly.”

the awkwardness melted into something softer since patri clapped on the back a moment later, sensing that you wanted to get ready for more from the team.

“y/n, come on,” she said as caro appeared at the door with her easy grin, “we’ll be the ones to show you the pitch, the gym, and where we do tactical walks before training starts.”

nodding eagerly, you followed them out through the door and out of tunnel. stepping outside, the sun spilled across the grass with your three voices voices filling the walk with tips about barça’s style, and how the squad bonded off the pitch.

back inside, the locker room door clicked shut and the energy of the conversation shifted instantly with your absence.

kika turned to esmee, with her playful smirk already in place, “esmee virginia brugts, wipe that smirk off your face right now!”

esmee scoffed, with her arms crossing as she leans back on the side of her locker, “what smirk? i’m not even doing anything.”

kika gave the classic don’t-lie-to-me look, with her eyes narrowing.

"you had a crush on that girl, didn't you?"

esmee sighed, “yes... in fact, y/n was my first girl crush when we were little,” she admitted, with her smile brightening under the bright locker lights, “i didn’t expect her to still look so pretty in person after all these years.... it kind of, you know, caught me off guard, kika.”

vicky stepped out of the bathroom right then, with a towel over her shoulder, catching every word, "ouuuu,” she teased as esmee shot her a glare.

“cállate, vicky,” the dutch said while laughing underneath.

kika leaned in, “you should take her out to lunch soon so you can catch up properly. it’d be perfect after all that time apart.”

esmee paused, with a small smile pulling on her face, “yeah, it’s a good idea.... but maybe i should let her get adjusted to barcelona first and give her space to settle before jumping into anything.”

heads nodded around the room, and kika put her hand on esmee's back as she lead them both out on the pitch, joining with you, caro, and patri who started passing drills out on the grass.

three weeks later, esmee invited you out to dinner.

sitting across from her at a small restaurant tucked into the gothic quarter, warm amber light poured over white tablecloths and catched the stems of water glasses. outside the tall windows people walked past under strings of fairy lights in the city.

the place felt intimate.... maybe too intimate for two teammates just “catching up” but the low sound of conversation around felt distant, like the table existed in its own center of quiet.

a candle flickered between the white cleaned plates, throwing soft shadows across esmee’s face. the dutch's hair was still pulled back in a loose bun because her braiding appointment wasn’t for another few days, but her freckles stood out under the glow from the pendant light above.

the olive green sweater she wore draped softly against her collarbones, with the color rich against her skin.

“so... i found old photos of us from heinenoord,” you broke the comfortable silence a minute after ordering drinks. esmee's eyebrow's raised as you reached into your purse slung over the chair and pulled out a small stack of printed pictures.

you slid them across the table toward her as her eyebrows still lifted in curiosity. she picked them up carefully, like they might crumble.

the first one showed two small girls on a patchy grass pitch, both in oversized orange kits, with your arms slung around each other’s shoulders, grinning wide enough to show missing baby teeth.

another photo underneath was captured mid-kick, sun low and golden, with your hair wild from running. esmee was not too far behind, with her smile bloomed sudden and bright when the team reached the third.

“where’d you find these?” esmee asked, with her voice so soft with wonder that you could've missed it.

a small sigh escaped your lips, “after my first day in the locker room, i felt horrible that i didn’t remember you. I called my mom once i got back to my apartment and she mailed these over the next week because she remembers you, your brother, and your mom too. she’s happy we’re on the same team again.”

esmee flipped through slowly, thumb brushing the edge of one photo where the two of you sat cross-legged on the sideline, sharing a single water bottle, cheeks flushed from play.

she looked up, with her brown eyes so gentle that it nearly looked sad, “you don’t need to feel bad. it’s been ten years.”

“yeah but…” trailing off, the words caught somewhere tight inside of your chest. esmee noticed with the way your shoulders tensed, and the quick glance down at the tablecloth.

“what?”

swallowing once, you confessed, “i had a bad injury just a year after joining the chelsea academy. there was a bad group tumble in training when everyone was practicing corners, and my head hit the goalpost hard. the concussion was bad and i was out of it for a bit, cleared after maybe three months, but… some memory loss stuck. especially stuff from when i was little.... that’s why i blanked on you at first.”

esmee’s expression softened into something tender, almost pained as she slid the photos back across the table, with her fingers lingering a second on the edge.

“i promise you, i’m not offended. i’m sorry that happened, though.”

a small smile tugged despite the ache of saying it out loud.

you picked up one photo in particular, the one on top which was your favorite photo of the pile of nine pictures.

it is a picture of the both of you at nine years old, you giving her a piggyback ride across the pitch, sun blazing behind, with smiles so big they hurt to look at now. the quality of the picture looked so good, almost like it was in a magazine.

“this is my favorite one.”

esmee leaned closer to see it again, “same.”

the waitress arrived then, setting down two sparkling waters and taking orders. both chose the same thing without even discussing it beforehand... which was a grilled mediterranean plate, olives and feta and charred vegetables.

once the woman left, your eyes met with esmee's again across the candle flame.

to you, esmee still looked effortlessly pretty in the low light with her freckles like scattered constellations across her face, and her green sweater soft against her shoulders, with her bun a little messier now from running fingers through the front loose strands she forgot to slick back.

leaning forward on elbows, you spoke, “you look so pretty, es.”

she chuckled, ducking her head for a second, smile breaking wide.

“don’t.”

“don’t what?” smirking, holding the gaze.

“don’t flirt with me,” almost laughing now, but there was color high on her cheeks.

“why not?”

esmee set both hands flat on the table, composure gathering like she was about to take a set piece. there, she leaned in too and it was close enough that the candlelight danced in her eyes.

“because i don’t think you should start something you can’t finish.”

a delighted “oh!” slipped out of your mouth before your grin could be controlled, “you know, little me would be screaming if she knew her childhood crush was being equally flirtatious with her right now.”

esmee’s eyes widened, genuine surprise showing as her eyebrows raised, “you had a crush on me?”

nodding slowly you said, “yeah but we were so little... I thought it was definitely one-sided, since you know…”

“no no…” cutting in quick, esmee cuts, “i had a crush on you too... like… you were my first crush on a girl.”

a tiny bit of shocked was displayed on your face. then, esmee’s brow furrowed as she started piecing something together.

“wait… you remembered that you had a crush on me?”

a light chuckle escaped your throat as you glanced around at the other tables with couples murmuring, and a family laughing in the corner before your happy eyes came back to hers.

“over these last three weeks i’ve been feeling… quite nervous around you. I just kept wondering why then my mom sent the photos.” you pointed at the small stack still resting between plates, “that’s when it hit me like holy shit, i’m playing football again with my childhood crush.”

laughter bubbled up at the same time as your heads tipped close over the table, with your shoulders shaking quietly.

esmee steadied first, with her laughter dying down as her gaze held steady, and bold now.

“well… i like you now too, y/n.”

the words landed soft but certain and you smiled, with your voice slowed matching hers,

“and i like you too, esmee.”

now alexia sits across from you on the purple velvet, with her legs tucked beneath her in an effortless way. as an heir, you've noticed how all socialites have mastered that sit down pose.

alexia's light brown hair sit loose and tumbling over one shoulder, catching the jasmine candlelight like she was on a portrait.

she wore a simple silk white blouse and tan trousers... nothing like the couture she usually wears thanks to her family's fortune, but her presence still filled the room, unlike yours, on very first evening you met at this same castle. when she had charmed you with a single raised eyebrow and a dry joke about how even princesses needed better champagne and delicacy.

alexia had a look in her eye during the first time you've talked to her. you had come to recognize that the look was uniquely hers.

“we cannot keep dancing around this,” you said quietly, voice steady despite the way your heart hammered against your ribs. you stood in a white satin nightdress, with a thicker pink open robe covering your arms, “the pressure from the palace is growing louder every week, especially from prime minster ingrid. everyone wants an engagement before someone leaks a photo or a servant talks.... but more than that, i want this, alexia. i want you as my wife, not just my secret, I think you deserve better than that.”

alexia exhaled a shaky laugh, setting the glass of wine down so her hands could find each other in her lap, “marriage is not a weekend in the south of france, cariño. it is not sneaking away to my mother’s atelier after hours or waking up in your arms before dawn and pretending the world does not exist.... once the ring is on, everything changes. my life does like my freedom, the parties, the late nights designing with mama, and the trips where no one knows who I am. i would have to set so much of it aside for royal duties and protocols with the press watching every single breath i take.... i am scared, yes, but not of loving you. i am scared of losing pieces of myself that make me… you know... me.”

you walked forward then, before sitting down facing her with your elbows on your knees, close enough that the faint scent of her perfume that is something warm and citrusy her mother had created just for her. it wrapped around your olfactory nerves like an embrace, “i know.... i have heard every word you have said about it these past months, and i have not pushed because i understand.... but hear me now. if we do this, if you say yes, i swear on every oath i have ever taken that i will protect you. as my wife, as my partner, you will never stand alone in front of the cameras or the courtiers. i will be your shield. when the advisors try to schedule your every hour, i will remind them whose name is on the marriage certificate... since you'd be in a rank higher than most people as the wife of an heir.... when the fashion world mourns the loss of your late nights at shows, i will make sure you still have a studio here, a space that is yours alone. you will not disappear into my title. i will not let that happen to you.”

alexia’s gaze dropped to her hands, with her dark lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks.

she was quiet for a long moment, with the ocean outside of your younger sister's castle rising and falling in rhythm with her breathing.

when she looked up again, minutes later, the woman's eyes glistened, “and when the day comes.... and it will come, no matter how much we pretend otherwise... when you become queen… will the crown sit heavier than i do? will i wake up one morning and realize i am second to a throne that has already taken so much from your family? your great-uncle’s abdication reshaped everything in this country. it placed your grandmother on the throne, then your mother, and someday you. i see how it weighs on you already, even from the sidelines of you not even being queen yet. i need to know, truly, if you would choose the crown over me when the moment demands it.”

you scoffed softly, with the sound gentle rather than dismissive, and reached across the small space to take ale's hands in yours.

the woman's fingers were cool, trembling just slightly, and you rubbed your thumbs across her knuckles the way you always did when words felt too big to describe the environment.

“my mother is in perfect health, alexia. you've met her once before, she is as stubborn as ever riding horses every morning, charming diplomats until they forget their own names. becoming queen is not on my horizon for maybe another twenty years, maybe more.... but even if the impossible happened tomorrow, even if i woke up wearing that weight… you would still come first. your comfort, your happiness, the way you laugh when we are alone and the world cannot touch us... that is my priority. the crown is an inheritance, a duty that my direct bloodline was never meant to carry but will if i must.... you are my choice. every single day, i choose you above the protocols and the expectations and the history books that want to write our story for us. i will fight the palace, the press, even my own blood if they try to make you feel lesser. you will be my wife, my equal, my home.... not some accessory to a monarchy.”

the words hung between you, and alexia takes a moment to process your words as she looks down at her mancured hands holding yours.

for the first time in weeks, you notice how her shoulders loosened and afterwards, she squeezed your hands back with a small smile breaking through the fear like sunlight after a storm.

“you really mean that, don’t you? all of it.”

“every syllable,” you answered, voice dropping lower which feels more charged with intimatcy than seconds before, “i have spent five years proving it in secret.... and now i want to spend the rest of my life proving it in the open. you do not have to give up who you are since we will reshape the role together and make it something that fits you, not the other way around. the fashion world can still have alexia putellas.. but with a new name... and the palace and me will simply learn to share.”

she studied your face for another endless beat, searching for any crack and any hesitation but she found none. there, she let out a breath that sounded like surrender and relief all at once.

“okay,” she whispered, the single word trembling but sure.

“yes. i will marry you. i am still terrified, but i trust you.... more than i have ever trusted anyone.”

the yes coming out of her mouth stole your breath for a second. you smiled, wide and unrestrained with the kind of smile that only appeared when the two of you were truly alone.

“thank god.... because i already spoke with my mother weeks ago. she gave her permission the night she first learned about us. she said she saw how you looked at me across that dinner table during her birthday dinner last year and knew this was never going to be just a small thing. so the only step left is the engagement announcement. we can do it gently, on our terms with a small statement with no grand press conference unless you want one.”

alexia laughed then, and it was so soft and melodic that it wrapped around your heart like the silk of her blouse. she rose from the settee in one graceful motion, pulling you up with her until you stood chest to chest, the candlelight painting gold across her features.

the woman's hands slid up your arms, over your shoulders, until her fingers threaded gently into the hair at the nape of your neck.

“so... what I am hearing is that you planned this whole conversation... and had the permission tucked away like some sort of secret weapon?”

“i hoped,” you admitted with your forehead resting against hers, “i hoped you would see that i am not asking you to choose between your life and mine. i am asking you to let me, with my power, build one that holds both.”

ale's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then opened with a full of everything she had been holding back, “i see it now. clearly.” she tilted her head just slightly, lips brushing yours in the lightest tease before she closed the distance fully.

the kiss started slow, with her mouth soft yet certain against yours. then, once her mind fully processed the severity of the moment, it deepened with her fingers tightening on your body and pulling you closer as if the last remnants of fear were dissolving between you.

you tasted the faint salt of the sea air on her lips, and felt the way her body melted into yours with every curve familiar after five years.

alexia's free hand pressed flat against your back while your own arms wrapped around her waist, holding her like the treasure she had always been.

when you finally parted, breathless and smiling, alexia rested her forehead against yours once more, eyes shining.

“we are really doing this, we're going to get married!” she murmured, with a childlike happiness coming through her voice since the fear is gone.

“we are,” you answered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek, “and it is going to be the most beautiful scandal the palace has ever seen.”