Priya

The streets around Montjuïc were already overflowing by the time the team van crawled up toward the Teatre Grec. The entire hillside glowed under floodlights and camera flashes while clusters of fans pressed themselves against barricades singing pieces of Mara Solís songs loud enough to carry through the glass.

Alexia stepped out first, one hand briefly resting against the side of the van as she scanned the entrance before turning immediately toward the chaos unfolding behind her.

“Slow down,” she said as Vicky nearly barreled past her in excitement. “Nobody is getting separated before we even make it inside.”

“We’re not children, capi,” Clara complained, though she was already craning her neck toward the venue with obvious awe, her phone halfway out to record the lights spilling across the stone amphitheater.

“That’s debatable,” Alexia replied dryly, earning a chorus of offended reactions from behind her while the younger players spilled out onto the pavement in a blur of excitement and overlapping conversation.

Aïcha was talking about the setlist rumors she’d seen online, Kika talked about how amazing it was to have an openly queer woman achieve such international success, Clara insisted she had heard Mara changed part of the stage production specifically for Barcelona, and Esmee was trying unsuccessfully to explain something about Spotify streaming milestones while Vicky interrupted every few seconds to point at another group of fans screaming somewhere along the barricades.

Alexia pretended not to listen too closely as she greeted one of the club staff coordinators moving quickly toward them, but she caught enough pieces of the conversation behind her to know they had all been discussing this concert for at least three straight days at training.

Honestly, probably longer.

The collaboration with Barça had detonated through the locker room the second it was announced, special edition shirts selling out within minutes while half the squad suddenly acted as though they had personally discovered Mara Solís themselves. Patri had spent an entire recovery session trying to explain the significance of twenty-five songs surpassing one billion streams while Mapi argued that there was no way any artist really had that many monthly listeners, and somewhere in the middle of all of it Alexia had mostly stayed quiet, amused despite herself by the genuine excitement radiating through the team.

Because even she, despite not following celebrity culture closely, understood that this was massive.

Spotify had transformed the historic Teatre Grec into the centerpiece of Mara’s Barcelona collaboration for one night only, honoring the streaming milestone with a special concert tied to her recent album, Luminous. 

El Clásico week always drew attention but this time the entire city seemed to have reorganized itself around the event. Every billboard in Barcelona had carried Mara's face, every café and taxi seemed to be playing one of her songs, and even during gym sessions at the training center Alexia kept catching choruses drifting through the speakers whenever one of the younger players hijacked the music.

She didn’t know much about Mara herself beyond what was impossible not to know.

The number one hits, the sold-out stadium tour currently moving across Europe, the interviews clipped endlessly across social media. It was the kind of fame that had become so enormous it stopped feeling entirely real and started existing more like weather, something constant people simply lived around.

Still, there was something about her presence Alexia had noticed even through screens, a calmness underneath all the spectacle that felt unusually genuine for someone operating at that level of visibility. She carried herself like someone completely aware the entire world was watching without ever seeming consumed by it.

“Alexia.”

She looked back toward the staff coordinator walking beside her.

“We’re taking you through the lower entrance tonight since the main terrace is completely packed already,” the woman explained over the noise of the crowd. “The club delegation is seated near the front with Spotify executives and invited guests.”

Alexia nodded easily, glancing behind her just in time to catch Vicky stopping in the middle of the pathway because she had recognized an attractive TikTok influencer near the barricades.

“Vicky,” Alexia called calmly. “Walk.”

Immediately, the entire group dissolved into laughter while Vicky groaned dramatically and hurried to catch up.

“I hate that you always notice everything.”

“It’s literally my job.”

The theater opened around them a moment later, and even Alexia felt herself slow slightly as they stepped inside.

The venue looked unreal beneath the night sky, the old stone amphitheater washed in warm gold light while towering translucent panels framed the stage and reflected shifting constellations across the surrounding walls. Candles flickered along the terraces in soft rows of amber, strings of hidden lighting woven carefully through the ancient architecture so the entire space glowed without losing any of its history. Above the stage hovered the Luminous sigil, three interlocking circles threaded by a beam of light, suspended almost like part of the sky itself.

Behind her, the younger players fell briefly silent for perhaps the first time all evening.

“Oh my God,” Serra breathed quietly.

“Okay,” Esmee said after a second, sounding genuinely stunned now. “This is actually insane.”

Alexia heard herself laugh softly under her breath as they continued down toward their section, staff members guiding them carefully through rows already packed with actors, musicians, executives, athletes, and people Alexia vaguely recognized from magazine covers without knowing their names. Cameras flashed constantly near the lower terraces while servers moved through the aisles carrying trays of champagne beneath the rising hum of thousands of conversations blending together into something electric.

The entire amphitheater felt suspended in anticipation, that particular kind of energy that only existed a few moments before something enormous began.

Vicky leaned closer beside her as they reached their seats near the front. “You know,” she said conspiratorially, “if she performs the acoustic version of-”

“Hey! No spoilers,” Kika interrupted immediately. “Some of us avoided the setlist on purpose.”

“You people are unbelievable,” Alexia murmured while settling into her seat.

Yet despite herself, she found her eyes drifting toward the stage again, toward the glow of the album sigil against the Barcelona night and the massive crowd stretching upward through the stone terraces.

Performing in front of thousands of people who already adored you before you even stepped onstage wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to Alexia, not really. She knew what it was like to walk into a stadium and feel expectation settle over an entire crowd before she had even touched the ball. She knew the strange balance of pressure and adrenaline and instinct that came with understanding people were waiting for you to give them something unforgettable. 

But this felt different somehow, less sharpened by competition and urgency, softer in the way music allowed emotion to spread openly through a crowd instead of demanding victory from it, and she found herself unexpectedly fascinated by the scale of Mara’s presence, by the effortless way she seemed to command the attention of an entire city through nothing but voice, charisma, and melody.

The lights dimmed before she could think much further about it.

Instantly the amphitheater erupted, the sound swelling so quickly and completely that it seemed to vibrate through the stone beneath their feet while gold light flooded across the stage in long sweeping beams. Around her, phones lifted into the air all at once, the entire crowd leaning forward together in anticipation.

The concert unfolded with the kind of scale that should have felt overwhelming and somehow didn’t, every transition seamless, every lighting change precise without ever feeling cold or mechanical, as though the entire production had been designed around making the ancient amphitheater feel intimate instead of enormous.

And at the center of all of it was Mara.

Alexia had expected someone polished, someone technically impressive in the way global pop stars usually were, but she hadn’t expected this strange gravitational pull the woman seemed to possess the second she stepped onstage, the effortless way she held the attention of thousands of people without appearing to demand it even once.

She moved through the performances with startling ease, sometimes dancing beneath floods of gold and silver light while the crowd screamed every lyric back at her, other times standing completely still with nothing but a microphone and somehow commanding even more attention that way. There was confidence in her, obviously, but not the sharp performative kind Alexia associated with celebrity culture. Mara felt open onstage, alive in a way that made the entire amphitheater seem to lean unconsciously toward her.

At some point during the third song, Alexia realized she had completely stopped paying attention to anything happening around her.

Which, apparently, the younger players noticed almost immediately.

By the middle of the set Vicky and Clara had already started exchanging exaggerated looks every time Alexia failed to respond to something one of them said, while Aïcha openly bit back laughter watching their captain stare toward the stage with an intensity usually reserved for Champions League finals.

“She hasn’t blinked in like ten minutes,” Vicky whispered loudly.

“I literally think she forgot we’re here,” Clara whispered back.

Alexia ignored them entirely, though the faint color rising in her cheeks suggested she had absolutely heard every word.

The stage darkened briefly between songs, soft blue light washing across the amphitheater while Mara laughed breathlessly into the microphone after finishing an extended vocal run, thanking the crowd in a mixture of Spanish and broken Catalan that sent another wave of screams rolling through the terraces.

As the band reset behind her, Alexia leaned slightly toward Kika without taking her eyes fully off the stage.

“How do you know she’s interested in women?” she asked casually, or at least casually enough that she clearly hoped nobody else would notice the question. “She’s singing about men in some of these songs.”

Kika’s entire face lit up instantly.

“Oh, she is definitely interested in women,” she said, dragging out definitely with immediate delight. “She sings about women in a lot of songs too. She’s publicly dated both.”

Alexia glanced toward her properly then, trying very hard to look only mildly curious.

“You know that actress?” Kika continued eagerly. “The one from that sci-fi movie we were obsessed with last year? The really confusing one you said made no sense?”

“Because it genuinely made no sense,” Alexia muttered.

“Well, Mara dated her for like nine months or maybe more, I don’t know.”

Alexia nodded once, slow and thoughtful, before looking back toward the stage where Mara was speaking softly to the audience now, smiling as thousands of phone lights shimmered across the amphitheater like stars.

“But they aren’t together anymore?” she asked after a beat, her tone carefully neutral.

Beside her, Kika went completely still for half a second before turning with the slowest, most knowing smirk Alexia had ever seen.

“No, capi,” she said innocently. “I hear she’s very single these days. Has been for a long time actually. Like over year.”

Alexia just nodded once, absorbing the information quietly before turning her attention fully back toward the stage as another familiar song began, glittering synths filling the warm night air while the crowd erupted immediately at the opening notes.

Next to her, Kika and Vicky exchanged violent sideways glances before elbowing each other so hard Clara nearly started laughing out loud.

Alexia pretended not to notice any of it.

The show only grew more immersive as the night continued, the energy shifting constantly between explosive stadium-scale performances and softer moments where Mara spoke directly to the audience with an ease that made even the enormous crowd feel strangely close to her.

At one point, midway through one of her most famous ballads, the stage lights softened completely and Mara stepped down from the platform, disappearing briefly into the lower aisle while security moved carefully ahead of her through the crowd.

The amphitheater lost its mind instantly.

Phones shot upward from every direction as she moved slowly through the audience still singing, close enough now for people to reach toward her hands while the orchestra swelled softly behind the melody. The entire moment felt cinematic somehow, Mara illuminated in soft gold light as she passed through the crowd with effortless intimacy, smiling at fans, brushing fingertips against outstretched hands, never once losing the thread of the song.

Alexia watched her approach almost absently at first, still caught somewhere between admiration and fascination, until Mara reached their section and glanced upward toward the Barça delegation.

Then she looked directly at Alexia.

And very visibly did a double take.

It happened quickly, barely more than a flicker in her expression, but unmistakable all the same, her eyes catching on Alexia with sudden surprise before her entire face softened into a dazzling smile that looked far more personal than performative. For half a second Mara seemed almost amused by whatever thought had crossed her mind, her gaze lingering just slightly too long before she continued moving through the aisle, still singing as though nothing had happened at all.

The silence around Alexia lasted approximately two seconds before every younger player turned toward her at once.

Completely engrossed in watching Mara disappear farther through the crowd, Alexia didn’t notice immediately.

“What?” she asked finally, dragging her attention back toward them.

Vicky looked physically unwell.

“Fucking La Reina, I swear to God,” she gasped dramatically, clutching Esmee’s arm.

“No seriously, Ale,” Kika added staring at her with complete disbelief, “you actually have to tell me your secrets because how do you pull like that?”

“Wait, we all saw her staring at Alexia, right?” Clara asked incredulously.

“Yes,” everyone answered at once, far too enthusiastically.

Alexia rolled her eyes, attempting composure despite the unmistakable smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth now.

“You’re imagining things,” she lied smoothly.

Nobody believed her for even a second.

By the time the final song faded into the warm Barcelona night, the entire amphitheater was on its feet. Gold confetti drifted through the air beneath roaring applause while Mara stood at the center of the stage smiling almost disbelievingly at the crowd around her, one hand pressed briefly against her chest as thousands of people continued chanting her name long after the music ended.

The younger players spent nearly the entire walk out of the venue talking over each other at full volume.

“No because the lighting during the second set actually changed my life.”

“I still can’t believe she walked through the crowd.”

“That acoustic arrangement was insane.”

“And our jerseys are going to look so good next match,” Vicky added immediately, tugging excitedly at the end of the special edition Barça scarf she’d already somehow managed to acquire before half the city. “Like actually iconic.”

Kika groaned dramatically. “We’re going to break sales records again.”

“She deserves it,” Clara said. “That was amazing.”

Alexia walked a few steps ahead of them toward the vans, listening to the noise with quiet amusement while flashes from photographers continued bursting across the entrance behind them.

Truthfully, she understood the excitement now.

There had been something strangely magnetic about the entire night. Not just the scale of it, but Mara herself, the way she seemed to hold an entire crowd effortlessly in the palm of her hand while still making moments feel personal somehow.

And if Alexia caught herself replaying one particular smile on the drive home afterward, well.

Nobody needed to know that.

------

The next morning Alexia woke to her phone vibrating violently against the nightstand.

She frowned sleepily, reaching for it before immediately blinking at the screen in disbelief.

One hundred and fifty unread messages.

All from the team group chat.

Alexia groaned softly and dropped back against the pillows before opening it anyway, instantly assaulted by dozens of messages flying past faster than she could read them.

Vicky: OH MY GOD Kika: PATRI TELL THEM WHAT YOU JUST TOLD ME Mapi: if this is fake i’m suing someone Esmee: WAIT SHE’S ACTUALLY COMING??? Pina: I suddenly care about training today

Alexia scrolled upward until she finally found the explanation buried somewhere in the chaos.

Apparently Twitter had exploded late last night after someone connected to Spotify posted that Mara had requested to meet the women’s team personally following the concert, and sometime around seven in the morning Patri had apparently cornered Pere in the hallway and confirmed that yes, it was true, and yes, Mara Solís would in fact be visiting training later today.

Alexia sighed deeply and let the phone fall back onto the bed beside her.

Training was going to be unbearable.

And, unfortunately, she was completely correct.

The atmosphere around the training center felt deranged from the second everyone arrived. Every time somebody spotted a vaguely brunette woman anywhere near the facility, half the squad visibly froze before realizing it was absolutely not Mara Solís.

At one point Vicky nearly walked directly into a cone because she had whipped around so quickly trying to look toward the parking lot.

“Vicky,” Patri called across the pitch without even attempting to hide her laughter, “you know that’s Júlia from finance and she’s blonde, so I don’t know why you’re craning your neck so much.”

The entire team dissolved immediately into laughter while Vicky covered her face dramatically.

“I’m nervous!” she defended herself.

“You need help,” Salma informed her.

Even Alexia found herself smiling more than once as the chaos escalated throughout warmups, though she tried very hard not to contribute to it. She was captain. Supposedly mature. Supposedly setting an example.

Still, every time movement appeared near the entrance to the training grounds, she looked too.

By the time they finally heard the hum of a golf cart approaching from the lower pathway beside the field, Vicky was practically vibrating with anticipation.

“There!” she hissed loudly, grabbing Ona’s arm with enough force to nearly drag her sideways.

The cart rolled slowly into view a moment later beneath the bright morning sun, and instantly every conversation across the pitch faltered.

Mara sat casually in the back beside an older woman Alexia assumed was part of her team, one foot propped against the side rail while they laughed together at something the Barça marketing executive driving the cart had just said. Even dressed simply in loose jeans and an oversized button-up with dark sunglasses shielding half her face, she carried the same impossible sort of presence she had onstage, relaxed and captivating all at once.

The cart stopped near the entrance gate, and Mara climbed out gracefully, thanking the driver before pushing her sunglasses slightly higher against her nose as she looked out across the training field.

Even from a distance Alexia could tell she was taking everything in carefully, her gaze moving across the players, the facilities, the drills already set up along the grass.

Around Alexia, her teammates had apparently forgotten how to function.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Sydney looked moments away from passing out entirely.

Suppressing a sigh, Alexia jogged toward the gate before the silence became genuinely embarrassing.

“Hola, qué tal?” she greeted easily as she approached, reaching out automatically to shake Mara’s hand.

“Hola,” Mara replied smoothly.

Her hand was warm against Alexia’s, her smile immediate and dazzling even in the bright daylight, and for one strange suspended second neither of them let go quite when they were supposed to. The eye contact lingered too long too, something warm and quietly curious flickering across Mara’s expression before she seemed to catch herself and slid the sunglasses up into her hair instead.

“I wanted to come thank you guys in person for coming to the concert last night,” she said. “It meant a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Alexia answered automatically. “I love music.”

Mara blinked once, lifted her hand to her mouth clearly trying to hide her amusement.

Alexia froze internally almost immediately. 

“I mean,” she corrected quickly, suddenly sounding far less composed than usual, “the concert was fantastic. And you were absolutely incredible.”

A faint flush rose across Mara’s cheeks before she recovered with enviable smoothness.

“Well, now I’m glad you clarified,” she teased lightly. “I was starting to think you just support music in a very general sense.”

Alexia laughed softly under her breath despite herself. “Hmm yes, I’m actually very well known for my support of the arts.”

“Interesting,” Mara mused, tilting her head slightly. “And here I was thinking you were famous for football.”

“I do that sometimes too.”

“Only sometimes?”

Alexia smiled faintly then, the kind of restrained expression that made Mara’s stomach flip. “Depends who’s asking.”

Mara blinked once at that, visibly amused now, the smile pulling wider across her face before she shook her head slightly. “Okay,” she laughed softly. “That was smoother than I expected.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Expected?”

Mara hummed softly, her gaze drifting almost absentmindedly down Alexia’s frame before returning to her eyes a second later, the movement quick but not quick enough to go unnoticed. “I’ve seen clips of you,” she admitted lightly. “Interviews, match videos, things like that. You always look very professional.”

“You looked me up?”

A faint grin tugged at Mara’s mouth. “I may have done a little internet sleuthing.”

Alexia’s smile turned into a devious smirk, unable to help it. “Maybe I should do the same.”

“Maybe,” Mara said easily, still watching her in that unnervingly direct way. “Because honestly, you’re handling this much better than most people do.”

“And what exactly is this?” Alexia asked, though the warmth creeping into her voice made it clear she already knew the answer.

Mara’s smile deepened almost imperceptibly as she held her gaze. “Me flirting with you.”

For perhaps the first time that entire morning, Alexia genuinely lost her composure for half a second. Mara caught it immediately, her smile widening slightly with quiet satisfaction.

Alexia exhaled a soft laugh through her nose before recovering, one hand settling against her hip as she tilted her head. “You do this often?”

“Banter with very pretty footballers?” Mara asked with faux thoughtfulness. “Not as often as you’d think.”

The look Alexia gave her then made Mara laugh again, warm and completely unguarded now, and for a brief second the noise from the training pitch behind them seemed strangely far away.

“I’m Alexia, by the way,” Alexia said after a beat, offering it with the faintest trace of amusement, like she knew perfectly well the introduction was unnecessary but wanted to hear what Mara would do with it anyway.

Mara’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Alexia,” she repeated slowly, like she was testing the sound of it. “Yes, I know who you are, capitana.”

There was something about the way she said it that lingered a little too long in the space between them, playful on the surface but softened underneath by unmistakable interest.

Alexia opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the older woman from the golf cart finally approached beside the Barça executive, both of them wearing expressions that suggested they had been politely pretending not to interrupt for at least the last minute.

Mara glanced upward at the movement, visibly startled for half a second as though she had genuinely forgotten anyone else existed around them.

“This is my publicist, Tessa,” she said, stepping slightly aside as the older woman approached with an amused expression already forming. “I was just thanking Alexia and the team for coming to the show last night.”

“Yes,” Tessa replied smoothly, looking between the two of them with entirely too much awareness. “I saw you thanking the team.”

Mara groaned softly, bumping her shoulder with an eye roll.

“Well, on behalf of the team,” Kika suddenly cut in as she and Vicky finally managed to approach without combusting from excitement, “the pleasure was all ours.”

Beside her, Vicky nodded so enthusiastically she nearly lost balance, though her attention still kept darting back toward Alexia with wide-eyed disbelief.

Mara threw her head back laughing then, sunlight catching against the gold jewelry at her wrists as she lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Wowww,” she dragged out dramatically. “I’m getting called out left and right today.”

“You deserve it,” Vicky informed her with a shy smile.

“Honestly? Fair,” Mara admitted easily, still smiling. “But seriously, thank you guys for coming. I saw so many clips afterward of all of you dancing and singing and having fun, and that truly made me so happy.”

That softened the group almost instantly.

And then, as though some invisible barrier had finally broken, the entire team surged forward at once.

For the next several minutes the training ground dissolved into complete chaos. Mara moved easily through the group with the same effortless warmth she carried onstage, hugging players she recognized from social media clips, shaking hands with staff members, signing vinyls someone had apparently produced out of nowhere, crouching for selfies while Clara looked moments away from fainting entirely. Every few seconds another burst of laughter erupted somewhere around her as she cracked jokes or answered questions or exaggerated dramatic reactions to the team teasing her about football.

Alexia stayed near the gate for most of it, arms folded loosely across her chest as she watched the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

Mara was exactly the same offstage.

That surprised her a little.

There was no visible shift between performer and person, no moment where the polished charm faded into something rehearsed or detached. If anything, she somehow seemed softer here beneath the bright morning sun, laughing openly with the younger players while listening to Clara explain some complicated inside joke about locker room music choices.

And every so often, in the middle of everything else, Mara would glance back toward Alexia and smile briefly, as though checking she was still there.

The Barça executive eventually approached carrying a garment bag and gently pulled Alexia’s attention away from the scene.

“It would be great if we could get a photo of Mara with the team,” he explained, handing Alexia the special edition jersey carefully folded inside.

Alexia nodded in understanding before making her way toward the growing circle of players surrounding Mara.

The moment she approached, the group shifted apart for her automatically.

“So,” Kika asked brightly as Alexia stepped closer, “are you excited for the boys match this weekend?”

“Yeah,” Mara answered easily. “I’m excited. I don’t know much about football, I’ll be honest.” She laughed softly. “But whenever the crowd cheers, I’ll know the team did something good.”

The girls burst into laughter.

“Capi,” Patri called in a sweet tone from somewhere near the back of the group, drawing everyone’s attention toward Alexia with entirely intentional timing, “aren’t you going to the game too?”

As soon as nobody else was looking directly at her, Patri wiggled her eyebrows obnoxiously.

Alexia narrowed her eyes in warning before answering anyway. “Yeah,” she said carefully. “The club asked me to come. So I’ll be there too.”

Mara’s face brightened immediately at that. “Oh, good,” she said warmly. “I’m glad I’ll have a familiar face there with me.”

“Ooooh,” Vicky jumped in instantly. “Ale, you’ll have to explain all the rules and tactics to her.”

“Yes,” Kika agreed solemnly. “Very educational.”

“You guys act like I’m eighty years old,” Mara groaned.

“No no,” Patri added with smooth reassurance. “We just think Alexia would be a very attentive teacher.”

A chorus of exaggerated agreement erupted around them while Alexia pressed her lips together trying unsuccessfully not to smile.

“You’re all incredibly annoying,” she informed the team.

“And yet you love us.”

“Debatable.”

“Mmhm.”

The Barça executive finally interrupted before the teasing could spiral even further, guiding everyone into place for the photos while staff members lifted cameras around the edge of the field.

Almost instinctually, Alexia moved toward Mara’s side.

Mara glanced at her as she stepped closer, smiling softly before reaching for the jersey Alexia was holding. Their hands brushed briefly during the exchange, fingertips grazing for barely a second, but the contact still lingered strangely longer than it should have.

Alexia looked up at the same moment Mara did.

For a heartbeat both of them just stood there smiling slightly at each other while camera shutters snapped wildly around them.

“Okay!” the photographer called. “Everyone look here!”

The moment broke gently, though not completely.

After several more photos and another round of hugs and selfies, Mara finally stepped back toward the pathway leading to the golf cart while the team gathered near the edge of the pitch waving goodbye.

“Good luck with your match tomorrow,” she called warmly to the group. “And I’ll try not to embarrass myself by asking too many questions.”

“You’ll fit right in then,” Mapi shouted back.

Mara laughed before her attention shifted toward Alexia one last time.

“Bye, Alexia,” she said, softer now somehow beneath all the noise around them. Then, with a small wave and a smile that felt just a little more personal than the others, she added, “See you this weekend.”

Before Alexia could answer properly, Mara slid her sunglasses back down over her eyes and turned toward the waiting cart.

Halfway there, she glanced back once over her shoulder.

Just to make sure Alexia was still watching.

She was.

And as the cart finally disappeared down the pathway, all Alexia could hear behind her was the team immediately dissolving into teasing chants of:

“Bye Alexiaaa!"

“See you this weekend, Alexiaaa!”

“Ooooh, familiar face!”

“Very attentive teacher!"

Alexia closed her eyes and let out a controlled breath.

“None of you are starting tomorrow!!”

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