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roll your body - alexia putellas x reader

+18

a/n inspirated by ale's body roll video. Dedication to @moonlight_alexia for handling all of my breakdowns over this and still not blocking my annoying ass <3

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Ever since I was a little girl, football has been my daily companion. My two older brothers trained at local clubs, and to give their little sister a little kick, they'd put me in goal. I can't even tell you how many times I ended up on the ground, crying, before my mom ran out of the house as fast as she could, shouting at my brothers in the process.

"I'll see you torture your sister again, and you'll be grounded!"

"She's fine, mom, it's just playing," was all they ever said.

With each passing year, or rather, each passing day, my awareness of the world around me grew. I began to mature, schoolwork became more demanding, and interpersonal relationships became more complex. However, this didn't stop me from developing and chasing my dream of playing professional football.

At 15 years and 5 months old, I became the youngest player to make my senior debut for Arsenal. The pressure was immense; after all, Arsenal was the team my entire family supported, including my brothers, who sometimes took me to matches at The Emirates. Those were the best moments of my life. Now, I was in that same stadium, which suddenly felt different. I looked up at the sky, trying to calm myself, counting the stars moments before the referee gave the go-ahead for the substitution.

80th minute.

The score was in our favor.

Almost the entire stadium was full.

Kim Little placed the captain's armband on Leah Williamson's arm, only to point it confidently in my direction a few seconds later.

My legs felt like jelly, I could even feel my pulse in my throat, and I felt like I was going to faint right then and there. Until finally, it happened. Quick words of encouragement from Kim, which I didn't even catch through the guard, a high five before I took my first step onto the pitch I'd always dreamed of standing on. And in an instant, my nerves melted away, giving way to concentration and determination.

The end of the game was calm; we played our typical possession game, perfectly and with precise passes.

The final whistle.

It was over. 4-0 to Fulham at home at the Emirates.

The girls approached me one by one with broad smiles, some patting me on the head, some hugging me to appreciate this special moment. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn't tell if it was from stress, excitement, or simply the impact of this moment and what it had left in my 15-year-old heart. I slowly looked around, trying to spot every fan, even though it was physically impossible. But I was grateful to each and every one of them for being part of this special moment. Finally, my gaze landed on my family.

My mom with the biggest smile in the world.

My dad, calm as ever, but even there I saw a tiny smile.

And my brothers—usually the ones who teased me—were now standing among the other fans, wearing Arsenal jerseys with my name on them.

Seasons passed, players came and went, and I was still where my heart belonged. Except I didn't know my happiness would soon end.

It was a week after the last match of the season. It was difficult, both physically and with injuries plaguing us. Ultimately, we managed to beat Manchester City in WSL by just one point and reach the Champions League semifinals. We were all delighted when, after our last home match against Chelsea, we managed to secure full points. The final touch came in the 93rd minute, when, after a brilliant pass from Katie from deep, Alessia couldn't help but slot the ball into the net.

The dressing room was buzzing – Beth was singing karaoka with Leah, Kyra was taking everyone's photos with the trophy, and Mario was dancing to Bad Bunny while Emily and Taylor were recording her.

I was sitting on the couch watching "The Princess Diaries" again when Luke, my manager, called. I was a little surprised, because he's usually halfway around the world by this time.

"Luke? What's up, you called to send me a postcard from the Maldives?" I said humorously, but on the other end I heard not laughter, only silence. I sat up straight and waited for a response.

"Arsenal won't renew your contract," he said in a serious, confident voice, which immediately told me he wasn't joking. My body stiffened.

"What do you mean?"

"The FA hasn't given much money to English clubs. And since Arsenal has struggled with numerous injuries this season, they'll need a lot of replacements. Which means making some tough decisions."

"And one of them is selling me? I'm the Young Player of the Season for the second year in a row. I've given this club everything I've had since I was a little kid, damn it." My voice rose with each word, but I tried to control myself.

"Y/N, I know, it's very difficult. And I'm so sorry, I'm the one who's telling you about this.''

''I'm glad it's you, because otherwise I would have gone down the violent path.'' This sentence made Luke let out a low laugh. After a moment, I added, "So what now?"

Luke sighed softly, "They want to sell you to make some money. Your contract ends in a year, and you're one of the most talented players in the world right now. Plus, I've received a lot of offers from major brands."

This caught my attention. "So who?"

"Chelsea, Man United, Lyon, and... Barcelona."

My eyes widened. "Barcelona?"

Luke nodded, "Think about it. If you need anything, I'm just a phone call away. Just don't worry too much. You have a bright future ahead of you."

But I was worried. I was very worried. I stared at the wall for a good half hour until the sound of FaceTime snapped me out of my trance. I groaned and glanced at the screen. Kyra. My best friend both on and off the field. I didn't want to answer, but knowing her, I'd probably hear the doorbell 10 minutes later.

I quickly fixed my hair, which was sticking out in every direction imaginable, and took a deep breath before answering. Kyra's face appeared on the screen—smiling as always, her freckles now even more visible, probably because of the sun.

"What took you so long?"

I sighed, trying to hide all the thoughts I felt were already coming out. "I was cleaning."

"I see, you look bad," she said teasingly.

I groaned, "Thank you, that's what I was hoping to hear," and after a moment, added, "What's up?"

"I wanted to show you my new shin guards," she said excitedly, reaching into her bag. The screen showed the shin guards with a photo of us celebrating one of the goals. Then I looked at Kyra, her eyes sparkling. "I have another one too, we'll wear it next season."

"Kyra-"

"No! You can't say no. I'm your best friend and you'll break my heart!" She then pretended to be stabbed, grimacing.

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to tell her that today, even though she'd be the first person to hear it from me. But seeing her joy, I couldn't pretend everything was okay. "There won't be another season."

Kyra looked at me with obvious confusion and laughed lightly. "Okay, prankster, I know you don't want to wear it, but don't use such reprehensible arguments."

"Arsenal wants to sell me."

And then silence fell. Her smile vanished instantly. "What?"

I sighed. "Luke called me an hour ago. He said the club had personnel problems and needed to replenish the squad with new players, and the FA hadn't provided enough funds for enough transfers’’

"And they thought it would be a brilliant idea to get rid of you?" she replied indignantly.

I gave her a sad smile, "It seems so."

And silence fell again. Even though it wasn't visible, I saw her mind spiraling, trying to figure out the situation.

"What are you going to do now?"

"What can I do?"

"Fight Y/N. We have to talk to them. They can't do this to you. You were here before you could even count."

And it hit me. It was true. I tried not to cry, but it was getting harder by the second. "I'll meet with the board soon. But..."

"But?"

"But I don't want to play where they don't want me. And if it helps the club I love achieve more and solves the problems, I'm willing to sacrifice myself.''

''Bullshit'' Kyra replied indignantly. "Arsenal needs you, I... I need you.'' Her face softened.

''You'll do fine. I know you'll do fine wherever you are. I know it's hard. For me too. More than I can put into words. I didn't know this moment would ever come, at least not this soon.''

I saw her trying to process the information, then looked into the camera with a small smile covering any possible pain. "You'll be great too. I know it. So... are there any offers?"

"Yes."

‘’Spill"

"There's no point in—"

"No, we need to talk about something more pleasant than... whatever it was before."

I sighed again. "Okay... Luke told me about Chelsea, United, Barcelona—"

"WHAT?"

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow in reaction to the suddenly raised tone. "What?"

"BARCELONA WANTS YOU?"

"Apparently," I chuckled. "But I don't think I can handle it."

"Are you kidding me? You're one of the top young players in the world. Do you think that's not enough?" she asked with diseblief.

"Do you know who I'd have to compete with? Aitana, Alexia...''

''Or join them''

''That's impossible''

''In your head''

''Maybe''

''Sure,'' she said with a smile, "Get some sleep and we'll try to figure this out tomorrow, okay?"

''I love you''

''I love you too''

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The next day, I hadn't even gotten up when the phone woke me. I groaned, reluctantly answering, half-awake.

"Hello..?" My voice hoarse from sleep.

"Y/N, we have a meeting with the board in two hours."

And then I opened my eyes for the first time. Luke. Meeting with the board. In two hours.

"O-okay, I'm getting ready."

I stared at the ceiling for a good five minutes before getting out of my warm, comfortable bed, only to enter a zone of no comfort two hours later. I couldn't even eat a proper breakfast. Everything was coming to my throat. I supposedly knew the topic of the upcoming conversation, but the situation itself made me lose control.

What should I even wear? Something formal... a suit.

No. Too formal.

T-shirt and jeans?

No. I'll look like an ordinary passerby.

Shirt?

Maybe...

God, it all made no sense. Why am I worrying about my own funeral outfit?

The air in the conference room was oppressive. I was there first, then Luke, who also looked different, arrived.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No."

He chuckled softly, "Good answer."

Next, Director Clare entered, followed by Renée and three other people I'd never even met. I greeted them with the usual manners, though I felt like shouting out everything I was feeling. Then Clare cleared her throat, "Y/N, Luke has probably already briefed you on what the meeting will be about."

I nodded. I couldn't say anything more if I was to keep my emotions in check.

"First of all, I wanted to say and assure you that this isn't just about you."

"How ironic," I mumbled under my breath.

Clare continued, "You are an extraordinary and incredibly talented athlete. This is a difficult situation for us because we have to let go of someone who has been here practically forever'' My heart sank into my throat. I lowered my gaze, unable to maintain eye contact, which could have been construed as unprofessional behavior. I didn't care at the time. 'Injuries have completely depleted the squad this season. As you know, we've had to play practically the same players in every match without the possibility of rotation. Leah's ACL will take at least four months to heal, Lotte will need more time with Stina. Our midfield, which you were a part of, consisted of just you and Kim.' You were... how sweet. 'We need a lot of adjustments and transfers, which unfortunately we won't be able to make due to the limited funds provided by the FA.' I took a deep breath. 'Just say it.' Clare looked at me with pity. 'We are forced to ask if you would be willing to change clubs.'

Silence fell. What am I supposed to say?'

"Do what you want"?

"Is that all i mean to you"?

"You broke my heart’’?

Instead, I replied with a simple "Yes."

Clare and Renée looked at each other and then looked back at me. "You're one of the best players I've ever worked with." Renée began slowly, as if testing the waters. "I know this is very difficult for you, and I can't even imagine it. We'll make sure you're taken care of properly." Clare then continued, "You'll receive your bonuses for the next year within 7 days from today. Additionally, the club will provide you with a one-year contract with a new housing provider if you change clubs."

I chuckled ironically, "So now the club has the money for all this?"

"The funds for such things are included in the financial plan. This has nothing to do with the money we spend on signing new players."

I felt like I was about to lose my patience.

Then I stood up with my legs shaking, "Please continue your conversation with Luke. I'm done here," and with that I turned around and left.

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The next few days flew by faster than I expected. I didn't even remember the exact moment of my farewell party, or when Luke had presented me with the offer from Barcelona, or when I'd said yes. I realized it when the plane landed. Everyone around me wasn't even speaking Spanish, but Catalan. They didn't even say "buenos diaz." I felt completely unprepared for this new step, even though after talking to Kyra, everything seemed easier. Even my family assured me that everything would be fine and I would be capable of achieving something amazing. But the moment I stepped out of the SUV right in front of Camp Nou, I felt small. As if this big world was about to crush me. In London, I was at home. In Barcelona, I was alone.

The conference room was nothing like the one back in London. Too much glass. Too much sunlight. Too many people in tailored suits smiling at me as if they already knew me. I adjusted the sleeve of my shirt for what had to be the hundredth time that morning while Luke talked with someone in rapid Spanish I couldn't understand. Every few seconds he glanced at me, probably checking whether I was about to bolt for the exit.

Honestly, I was considering it.

A woman from the legal department slid a thick stack of papers across the table toward me.

"Take your time," she said in English with a gentle smile. At least she was trying to ease my nerves.

I stared at the Barcelona crest printed at the top of the first page. Five years. Salaries, bonuses, image rights, clauses that stretched over paragraphs I barely processed. They all blurred together.

All I could think about was the Arsenal badge I'd packed into a box two days ago.

Luke nudged my elbow. "You've already made your decision"

"I know."

"So why do you look like someone forced you into this room?"

I let out a quiet laugh. "Because signing it makes it real."

He didn't answer. He just placed a pen beside the papers. Across the table, one of the directors folded his hands together.

"We're very happy you're here. We believe you can become an important part of this club."

Important.

A few days ago another boardroom had thanked me for everything I'd done before showing me the door. Now I was sitting in another one being told I was wanted.

Football was strange like that.

I flipped through the final pages before stopping at the signature line. My name was already printed neatly beneath it, waiting for ink. For a second my hand refused to move. Images flashed through my mind: my brothers kicking a ball at me until Mum shouted from the porch, my debut at fifteen, Kyra handing me the shin guards we'd never get to wear together, walking out of the Emirates knowing it wasn't really my choice anymore.

Then another thought appeared.

Maybe this wasn't the end of my story.

Maybe it was just the first page of another chapter.

I uncapped the pen.

The scratching sound against the paper lasted less than three seconds.

One signature.

One handshake after another.

One photograph holding up a shirt with my surname across the back while flashes from cameras nearly blinded me.

Everyone applauded.

I smiled because that was what people expected.

But somewhere deep inside, between the excitement and the fear, there was still a girl standing in North London, wondering how saying goodbye to home could hurt so much.

And yet, when I looked down at the navy-and-garnet shirt in my hands, I couldn't deny the tiny spark growing in my chest. For the first time since that phone call from Luke, I wasn't thinking about what I'd lost. I was thinking about what I might become.

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On the day of my first training session, I woke up alarmingly early. It was 5 a.m., and training started at 10 a.m. I couldn't sleep; my stomach was making me want to throw up. First impressions are always the most important. I had to prove I could make a difference. I made breakfast - a rather light one - toast and scrambled eggs, washed down with an electrolyte drink from a random supermarket, as I hadn't yet had time to order the ones I'd been using in London. I sat down at the table and looked around my new apartment. There wasn't really anything to look at, as it was empty. The only things sitting in the middle were a few unpacked boxes I didn't want to unpack because it didn't feel like home. I don't know why, but I felt no excitement, only regret and sadness. I checked my phone's notifications, and among the social media notifications I didn't want to read was a short message from my mom:

"I love you, you'll be fine today." And for the first time since I woke up, I felt a little better.

When I entered the locker room, all eyes were on me. I didn't like attracting attention, in fact, I avoided it. But after a moment of silence and my awkward smile, applause and whistles erupted. Then two girls approached me and hugged me.

"Welcome in the family chica, I'm Kika," and before I could respond, Kika was pushed away by a slightly shorter girl with a bush on her head. "Hola hermana, I'm Vicky." I didn't know what to say, but I didn't have to, because then each girl approached me and introduced herself. They didn't have to. I knew them all. Finally, Alexia stepped closer, and I froze, but quickly regained my composure.

"Hola, benvinguda." "És molt agradable tenir-te aquí" I blinked a few times, trying to understand what she was saying, before Kika stood next to me with a broad smile. "She says it's good that you're with us." "O-oh, thank you, me too," I replied sheepishly.

"You have to learn Spanish. It's easier," Alexia said calmly with broken english and left the locker room, heading for the training pitch.

Great, that's my first reprimand, and it came from the captain.

"Don't worry, she's nice. But you have to treat her like one of us. Come on," she took my arm and led me to the field where the others were waiting. The grass seemed smoother, as if made for playing football, cut with surgical precision.

So now my adventure begins. Lock in Y/N.

Throughout the entire training session, Kika stayed by my side, as if she were my guardian angel. She calmly explained the details of the training and what was coming next. And Alexia? From the first second, I noticed she was the leader. I knew it before, but training was a different story. She directed everyone and everything, speaking calmly - not shouting. As if soccer had found her before it was even born. I felt admiration and respect for her.

During a water break, Kika brought me a cold towel. "She's amazing, isn't she?" I looked at her confused. "Who?" "Alexia" "Oh, yeah," and after a moment I added, "How is amazing in Spanish?" "Increïble" "I see," I replied before the coach blew the whistle signaling the resumption of practice.

The rest went smoothly, but I was exhausted. Here, training is incredibly intense. Every play of the ball matters, and every move towards it matters even more. On the way to the locker room, Alexia walked beside me. "How first training?" I wanted to smile at the lack of a verb, but I bit my tongue. "Good." "You… fast learn," she said shyly. And then I felt like this was my chance to show off my meager Spanish. "You are… increïble?" I said, more of a question than a statement. But I noticed the corners of her mouth turn up a little. "Gràcies," she replied, and then she opened the locker room door for me, signaling for me to go in first.

Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.

By the time I got back to my apartment, the adrenaline had completely worn off. I kicked my trainers off somewhere near the entrance, dropped my training bag onto the floor, and collapsed onto the couch without even bothering to change. Every muscle in my body complained the second I stopped moving.

"So this is Spanish football," I mumbled to myself.

My phone buzzed from somewhere inside the bag.

Then again.

And again.

With a groan, I fished it out and frowned at the screen.

You have been added to "Las Chicas 💙❤️".

Within seconds the notifications started flooding in.

Kika: Welcomeeeeeee ❤️

Vicky: Finally! She can't escape now.

Mapi: Too late to return her?

Patri: Ignore Mapi.

Mapi: No don't ignore me.

I couldn't help smiling.

Another message appeared.

Alexia: Welcome.

Just that. No emojis. No extra words. Very on brand.

Before I could even think of a reply, Kika sent another text.

Kika: Important announcement! Friday. 20:30. Same place as always.

A dozen thumbs-up reactions appeared almost instantly.

Then Vicky tagged me.

Vicky: @Y/N It's your welcome party. Attendance mandatory.

I stared at the message.

Welcome party?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I typed carefully.

Me: I don't really know anyone there.

The response came less than five seconds later.

Kika: Exactly why we're having it.

Mapi: We'll introduce you to everyone.

Patri: And don't worry, nobody bites.

A pause.

Then another message.

Mapi: Except Ingrid when she's hungry.

The chat exploded with laughing emojis.

Even Alexia reacted to that one.

I found myself laughing quietly in the middle of my still half-empty apartment. I looked around the room again. The unopened boxes were still there. The walls were still bare. It still didn't feel like home.

I tapped one final message into the chat.

Me: Okay. I'll come.

Within seconds my phone lit up again.

Kika: That's the spirit! Wear something nice.

Vicky: No football boots.

Mapi: Actually... wear football boots.

I shook my head, locked the screen, and set the phone down beside me.

Maybe this city was still unfamiliar. Maybe I still missed London more than I wanted to admit. But as another notification buzzed from the group chat, I realized something small had changed. For the first time since signing the contract, I wasn't alone anymore.

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Friday arrived much faster than I wanted it to.

I'd spent almost an hour standing in front of my suitcase trying to decide what to wear. Every outfit seemed wrong. Too elegant, too casual, too English. Eventually, I settled on dark jeans, a black top, and a leather jacket I'd owned for years.

"If Kika complains, that's her problem," I muttered to my reflection.

My phone buzzed.

Kika: Outside <3

Of course she was.

The drive was filled with music I didn't know and Spanish I understood even less. Vicky was singing from the passenger seat with enough confidence to convince everyone she knew the lyrics, while Kika drummed on the steering wheel.

"You nervous?" she asked at a red light.

"A little."

She looked at me.

"Good. Means you care."

Ten minutes later we pulled up outside a club already glowing with blue and purple lights. A queue stretched around the corner, but Kika simply waved at the bouncer, who greeted her by name and let the three of us straight in.

"So you come here often?"

She grinned "Too often."

Inside, the music hit me before anything else. It vibrated through the floor, through my chest, making conversation almost impossible unless you leaned close. The rest of the team had already claimed a section near the back. The moment they spotted us, whistles erupted.

"There she is!"

"Our newest signing!"

Someone shoved a drink into my hand before I'd even taken my jacket off. "I don't know what this is," I admitted.

Mapi appeared beside me. "Neither do I."

"You ordered it."

"I know."

I laughed despite myself.

For the next hour I was introduced to people whose names I instantly forgot, dragged into group photos I definitely blinked in, and convinced to try Catalan snacks I'd never heard of.

At one point I found myself standing on the balcony for some air.

The warm Barcelona evening wrapped around me, carrying distant traffic and the sound of waves somewhere beyond the buildings.

The door slid open behind me.

Alexia stepped outside, closing it just enough for the music to become a dull thump.

"You okay?"

I nodded. "Just needed five minutes."

She leaned against the railing beside me. "Too loud?"

"A bit."

"I understand."

For a while we stood in silence.

Then she spoke again. "When I first joined the first team, I wanted to go home after every training."

I turned toward her.

"You?"

She smiled faintly.

"I cried in the car more than once." she took a pause before continuing "You don't have to impress everyone in one week," she continued "Football is easy. People take longer."

I let her words settle. "I've been afraid of making mistakes."

"You will."

That answer surprised me enough to make me laugh. "So will everyone else."

Before I could reply, the balcony door burst open.

"There you both are!" Kika shouted. "We've been looking everywhere."

Alexia sighed dramatically.

"We've been gone three minutes."

"Exactly. Come inside. We need a team photo."

"A team photo?"

"And maybe karaoke."

"No."

"That's not optional."

Twenty minutes later I found myself squeezed between Vicky and Mapi while Kika belted out an aggressively off-key version of an ABBA song into a microphone she'd somehow convinced the DJ to hand over.

I felt free, I felt like I could relax for a moment. Then the music changed, and before I could leave, Kika grabbed my wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't know how to dance to Spanish songs." She smiled, pulling me back to her. "You're in Spain chica. Time to learn. Do you know this song?"

I thought for a bit "I think Mario danced to it once in the locker room." "Bad Bunny, you HAVE TO know Bad Bunny. And Rosalía. Otherwise, you'll offend Alexia."

"What about me?" Alexia asked as if she'd materialized next to us. "She doesn't know Rosalía." Kika pointed at me with her finger. Alexia gasped as if it personally offended her. "You don't know Rosalía?"

"I DIDN'T SAY SUCH A THING!" I turned to Kika. "You didn't ask, you just gave me a piece of information!" I said accusingly, wanting to explain myself. This made them both laugh. Then Kika propped her phone against her drink and pressed "record."

"Now we are dancing to Bad Bunny." But before I could say anything, Alexia appeared directly behind me, smiling at the camera and placing her hands on my hips. My heart stopped in my throat, I didn't know if it was from the alcohol or the touch. Maybe both. How was I supposed to function? Her grip was intense, as if she wanted to guide me through every upcoming move.

"Roll your hips," she whispered in my ear. Her words didn't reach me. I could only focus on her warm breath, sending shivers through my body. My head seemed possessed by the woman standing behind me; her body pressed against mine felt like I was about to melt.

"Vinga, mou-te amb mi," my voice hitched, because Catalan sounded like the most beautiful language in the world back then.

"H-huh?" was all I could manage.

"Move with me," and then I burst. I felt like I was about to explode when I felt her rolling her body against mine. "Slowly, lentament," she continued whispering in my ear, as the blood rushed to my cheeks. Her voice was low and slightly hoarse from the alcohol, yet soft and intoxicating. And my body? It listened to her every word as if it had more control over what was happening than I did.

I swallowed hard, trying to remember that Kika's phone was still recording somewhere in front of us. The music was loud enough to drown out almost everything else, but somehow Alexia's voice cut through it with impossible clarity.

"Relax," she murmured, amusement hidden behind the single word.

Easy for her to say.

I became painfully aware of every tiny detail. The warmth radiating through the thin fabric of my shirt. The faint scent of her perfume mixed with something clean and familiar from training. The way her laugh vibrated softly when I stumbled over the rhythm.

"You're thinking too much."

"I always think too much."

"I noticed."

I could hear the smile in her voice before I saw it.

Kika whooped from behind the camera.

"There she goes! She's getting it!"

"I am not!" I protested, which only made everyone laugh harder.

Alexia leaned just enough to catch my eye when I turned my head.

"Maybe a little."

Alexia eased her hand away and gave me half a step of space.

"See? You can do it."

I mirrored the movement she'd shown me, still awkward but no longer frozen, and earned an approving nod.

"There."

Her approval shouldn't have mattered as much as it did.

But it did. More than I cared to admit.

When the song finally ended, applause erupted from somewhere behind us.

Mapi was clapping dramatically.

"Unbelievable. Alexia Putellas teaching dance lessons now."

Patri shook her head. "Next she'll start charging by the hour."

Alexia rolled her eyes and finally stepped away, though the absence of her presence beside me felt strangely empty.

Kika checked the recording on her phone and gasped.

"Oh, this is definitely going in the group chat."

"No," I said immediately.

"Yes."

"Please don't."

She looked at Alexia.

Alexia considered it for a moment before the corners of her mouth lifted.

"Send it."

I stared at her in disbelief "You too?"

She shrugged with perfect composure.

"It's your first Barcelona party."

Then, lowering her voice so only I could hear, she added, "It's nice to have something to remember."

About twenty minutes later, I escaped to one of the booths lining the wall, grateful for the chance to sit down. My cheeks still felt warmer than they should have. I took a long sip of my drink, hoping it would cool me off.

It didn't.

Kika slid into the seat beside me with the biggest grin I'd ever seen, while Vicky dropped down across from us, crossing her arms dramatically. Neither of them said a word. They just looked at me.

"What?"

Silence.

"What?" I repeated.

Kika finally broke.

"So..."

"So?"

"What was that?"

I blinked.

"What was what?"

Vicky scoffed "Oh, don't play innocent."

"I'm not."

"You were practically melting."

"I was dancing."

"With Alexia."

"Because she pulled me over."

"And?"

"And... we danced."

Kika leaned closer until our shoulders touched "She never dances like that."

I frowned "Like what?"

"Like she's paying attention."

I opened my mouth to answer before realizing I didn't actually have one "I think you're imagining things."

Vicky laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink "We're really not."

Kika nodded enthusiastically "Alexia is usually the one standing with her drink, judging everyone else's dancing. Then suddenly our new English midfielder arrives, and she's whispering in her ear."

"She was just translating."

"Was she translating with her hands too?"

I nearly choked on my sip "Oh my God."

"What?"

"Nothing happened."

"Mhm."

"Seriously."

"Mhm."

"I barely know her."

Kika exchanged a knowing look with Vicky.

Vicky turned back to me "And yet she spent the entire song with you."

"She was being nice."

"Alexia doesn't accidentally become nice."

I stared at the table, suddenly fascinated by the condensation collecting under my glass. Cuz the truth was, I didn't know what had happened. All I knew was that when she'd stood behind me, close enough that I could hear her over the music without her raising her voice, the rest of the club had disappeared. I'd forgotten the crowd, forgotten Kika's phone, forgotten that I'd spent the whole week trying to make a good first impression. I'd only been aware of her. And that realization was somehow more embarrassing than the dance itself.

Vicky nudged my foot under the table "you like her."

My head snapped up ''what? No."

"You hesitated."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

Kika rested her chin in her hand, studying me with theatrical seriousness. "you've got the look."

"The look?"

"The one people get when they discover Alexia is not only annoyingly talented but also annoyingly attractive."

I buried my face in my hands.

"I've known she was attractive for years."

"There it is!" Vicky shouted, pointing at me like she'd solved a mystery.

"I meant objectively!"

"Mhm."

"As a footballer!"

"Mhm."

"As a... person."

Kika burst into laughter so loud that even Mapi glanced over from the other side of the room "relax," she said, patting my shoulder. "Half of Spain has had a crush on Alexia at some point."

"And the other half is lying," Vicky added.

I groaned.

"This conversation is over."

"It is," Kika agreed immediately.

Then she pulled out her phone, opened the video she'd recorded ten minutes earlier, and held it in front of my face. The clip showed Alexia standing behind me, guiding me through the dance with a small smile that I'd been far too flustered to notice in the moment. At the very end, just before the recording cut off, she glanced directly at the camera, then back at me.

Kika paused the video. Neither of them said anything. They didn't have to.

"I'm getting another drink," I announced, standing up.

Kika smirked.

"Running away?"

"I'm escaping."

"Same thing."

I rolled my eyes and headed toward the bar, grateful for the excuse to disappear into the crowd. I'd almost made it when someone stepped up beside me.

"You survived the interrogation?"

I turned. Alexia. She was leaning casually against the counter, one elbow resting on the polished surface, looking far too composed compared to how I felt.

"Barely."

"They've been bothering you?"

"They seem convinced something happened between us."

A tiny smile appeared on her face.

"And did it?"

My brain stopped working.

"I... we danced."

"We did."

"That's all."

"Hm."

That was all she said.

Just one quiet, thoughtful sound before ordering sparkling water from the bartender.

No denial. No agreement.

"I should probably head home."

"You don't have to, "I'll take you."

"Oh, no, it's okay. I can wait."

"You don't know the city."

"I'll manage."

She tilted her head slightly. "I know you will." then, after a pause, she added, "but I'd rather know you got home safely."

The drive began in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that settled between two people who were still figuring each other out. Barcelona drifted past the windows in streaks of amber light, palm trees casting long shadows across the empty streets. Alexia drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed, focused, occasionally glancing in the mirror before changing lanes.

I kept replaying the dance in my head. The way she'd stood behind me. The way she'd laughed when I'd almost tripped over my own feet. The way her voice had dropped when she'd whispered instructions only I could hear.

"So," she said eventually, eyes fixed on the road, "do you always overthink this much?"

I looked over at her. "Is it that obvious?"

"A little."

"I blame moving countries."

"And not the dancing?"

My ears burned.

"I wasn't nervous."

She turned her head just enough for me to catch the corner of her smile.

"No?"

"No."

"You were shaking."

"I was cold."

"In a nightclub?"

I sighed dramatically.

"Fine. Maybe I was a little nervous."

"A little."

"A lot."

"There she is."

The confession seemed to amuse her far more than it should have. At the next red light, she rested both hands loosely on the steering wheel and looked out through the windshield.

"You know, you're much less intimidating outside training."

She raised an eyebrow.

"So I'm still intimidating?"

"A little."

"And now?"

I met her eyes for a second before looking back out at the city lights. "Now you're just making it difficult to concentrate."

A quiet laugh escaped her "I'll take that as progress."

When we finally pulled up outside my apartment building, neither of us rushed to move. The engine idled softly. The city was quiet now, quieter than I expected it to be after a night like that. No music. No laughter. No Kika shouting over everyone. Just the faint hum of distant traffic and the heavy silence sitting between us. I unbuckled my seat belt, but still didn't open the door. Neither did she. Alexia's hand remained on the wheel for a moment longer, her fingers tapping once against the leather before going still. Then she turned her head slightly and looked at me.Not in the casual way she'd looked at me during training. Not in the amused way she'd looked at me when I admitted I was nervous.

The air inside the car felt different now. Smaller somehow.

"You're staring," I said quietly, because it was easier than admitting I was doing the same.

Her mouth curved faintly "So are you."

I swallowed "Sorry."

"Don't be." The words came out soft, almost absent-minded, and somehow that made them worse. My heart was beating so loudly I was sure she must hear it.I reached for the door handle, then stopped. Stayed still. Because there was something in the way she was looking at me now that made leaving feel impossible for just one extra second.

"Good night," I managed. But even I could hear how wrong it sounded. Too early. Too abrupt. Like I was trying to close a door that hadn't fully opened yet.

Alexia didn't answer right away. And then her hand, warm and steady, reached across the space between us and rested lightly on my wrist. I forgot how to breathe "don't go yet," she said.

My eyes flicked to her hand, then back to her face "why not?" She hesitated, just barely.

"Because I don't want this to end like that."

My chest tightened.

"Like what?"

"Like a car ride."

Something in her voice made my pulse jump. I turned more fully toward her, suddenly aware of how close we already were. The car felt even smaller now. Her knee was almost touching mine. Her hand was still on my wrist, thumb moving once, slowly, across my skin. I could feel the heat of it through my sleeve.

"I don't know what you're asking me to do," I whispered.

Alexia's gaze dropped to my mouth for the briefest second before lifting again "I know." That should have been enough to make me panic. Instead, I moved closer. Enough for the air between us to thin. Enough for me to smell the faint sweetness of her perfume again, mixed with the night and the warmth of her skin. She didn't move away. Her breath caught, almost inaudibly, and that tiny shift undid me more than anything else had all night.

"Tell me to stop," she said.

My answer came too quickly to be honest.

"I'm not going to."

Her eyes darkened, and for a second I thought she might say something - something clever, something teasing, something that would save me from having to think any longer. But she didn't. She only looked at me, then tilted her head just enough to close the distance herself.

The kiss was slow, almost hesitant, like a question neither of us wanted to answer too loudly. Then it deepened by degrees, warm and certain and impossibly soft at the same time. My breath caught. Her hand slid from my wrist to my jaw, fingers brushing there with a tenderness that made my stomach flip. I leaned into her without even meaning to, one hand finding her sleeve, needing something to hold onto because the sensation of her so close was almost too much.

She kissed like she played.

And me?

I felt like I was falling apart in the quietest possible way. When we finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction. We were both breathing differently now. Her forehead hovered close to mine, and her thumb traced once along my cheekbone as if she was remembering the shape of my face. I smiled first, mostly because I didn't know what else to do.

"So..."

"So," Alexia echoed.

"I should probably go upstairs."

"You probably should."

Neither of us reached for the door.

I laughed under my breath.

"We're terrible at saying goodbye."

"I've noticed."

Another comfortable silence settled between us before I looked toward the apartment entrance and then back at her "My place is... still mostly boxes and half-unpacked furniture." she tilted her head, waiting for me to continue. "but I think I have coffee."

"At two in the morning?"

"I never said it was a good invitation."

A smile spread across her face, softer than any I'd seen from her on the pitch.

"Are you inviting me upstairs?"

"I think I am."

She searched my expression for a second, making sure I meant it.

"Then I'd like to come."

The lift to my floor was almost comically quiet. We stood shoulder to shoulder without speaking, our reflections staring back at us in the mirrored walls. When the doors opened, I unlocked the apartment and pushed them inward.

"I warned you," I said. "It's not exactly decorated."

She stepped inside and looked around at the stacked boxes and empty shelves.

"It looks lived in."

"It looks forgotten."

"No," she replied gently. "It looks like someone hasn't had time yet."

I closed the door behind us. For a moment, we simply stood there in the middle of the living room, illuminated by the warm light over the kitchen counter. Alexia noticed a framed photograph still wrapped in paper on one of the boxes "your family?" I nodded.

"I couldn't bring myself to unpack it."

She looked at me, then back at the frame.

"You miss home."

"Every day."

She took a slow step closer until there was barely any space between us "I know what it's like to have football ask you to be brave when you'd rather just be comfortable." The honesty in her voice unraveled something inside me. Without thinking, I reached for her hand. She intertwined her fingers with mine as naturally as if we'd done it a hundred times before.

"I didn't expect tonight to end like this," I admitted.

"Neither did I."

"But I'm glad it did."

"So am I."

She lifted her free hand and brushed an escaped strand of hair away from my face, her fingertips lingering for just a heartbeat. I leaned into the touch before I could overthink it. When our eyes met again, the distance between us disappeared almost on its own. The kiss was unhurried, warm with shared relief as much as attraction, carrying the same quiet certainty that had followed us since the drive over. I felt her smile against mine, and it drew an answering smile from me before we found each other again, closer this time, wrapped in the stillness of the apartment. When we finally parted, our foreheads rested together.

"I've wanted to do that since the club," she admitted.

I laughed softly. "you hid it well."

"I had to."

"I didn't."

"No," she smiled, "you really didn't."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. She lifted a hand and brushed her thumb lightly across them, teasing, as if confirming what she already knew.

"You're blushing."

"You make that happen."

Then she leaned in again, and our lips met once more, slower this time, the hesitation of the first kiss leaving only the warmth of standing close enough to hear each other's unsteady breaths.

''this is a very bad idea'' i said breathless

I let out a soft sound that only seemed to make her kiss me harder.

"Alexia..."

"Shh... deixa'm guiar-te," let me lead she whispered against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Her hands were now gripping my waist, lifting me slightly. My back hit a wall I hadn't even realized was behind me.

"Do you have a bed?"

I looked at her, breathless, and let out a quiet chuckle.

"Yeah."

She effortlessly lifted me up, never breaking eye contact as she carried me toward my bedroom. She set me down gently on the edge of the bed and looked at me - my flushed cheeks, my slightly swollen lips.My eyes were bright with excitement as I looked back at the woman standing in front of me.

She looked unreal.

For the first time since the club, I had the chance to really look at her. Her brown hair fell loosely over her bare shoulders. Her collarbones were sharply defined. And her eyes.

God, her eyes.

Hazel. Focused entirely on me.

And she started kissing me again, getting on top of me. Her scent was filling the whole room, making the atmosphere even more electric. Her tongue was dancing with mine, fighting for domination. Competitive even in bed. Her mouth moved down to my jaw, kissing and biting every inch of it. I couldn't help but whimper every time I felt the slightest contact. She was in charge, completely owning me at that moment. Her fingers started unbuttoning my shirt, but she stopped in the process to look at me, still impossibly close.

"Can I?"

"Yeah."

It seemed like I moaned the response, but how could I not? And it only made her move faster. She easily unbuttoned my shirt, leaving me in my lace bra. Her eyes were shiny, dark, and lustful.

"Bonica..." she whispered before kissing my chest.

My nipples hardened, and before I realized it, my bra was removed as well, leaving me completely uncovered. Her mouth traveled to my hardened nipples, licking them like a treasure.

She was kissing me like the world was ending, as if she knew the effect she had on me. But God, she wasn't wrong. I had lost control over my body a long time ago. My thighs were already shaking without her ever touching them. But when I felt her warm hand on the hem of my skirt, I lost it. My legs spread before I could even think.

At this point, I wasn't even thinking.

She smiled, still kissing my chest as she slid her hand under the material of my skirt, not removing it just yet. Just gaining more control over my wrecked self. I whimpered again, wanting her to touch me, wanting her to stop playing with me.

"Sigues pacient, noia bonica." Be patient, beautiful girl.

She moved her mouth to my stomach, her left hand playing with my nipple and her right gripping my thigh. I felt so warm. I could feel the blush even in my toes as I gripped the sheets. I wanted the tension gone, but I also never wanted this moment to end. It felt like the sun burning my skin, her lips cool and soft against it.

She moved them to my inner thighs, spreading my legs a bit wider, and I let out the loudest moan I could make.

"Shhh..."

"Alexia..."

"I said tranquil... be good for me."

And in that moment, I could do anything for her. She could ask me to hold my need for hours, and I would still do it.

For this.

For this pleasure.

For her.

I felt her warm breath against the spot where I wanted her most, her lips slightly brushing against my sensitive skin.

"Alexia, please..."

She looked up at me, straight into my eyes.

"Oh God..." I moaned, pulling her closer.

"Be a good girl," she whispered. "Tell me you're my good girl."

"I-I'm a-oh, fuck, Alexia..."

And then she stopped, never taking her eyes off me.

"Finish your sentence."

"I'm your good girl," I moaned breathlessly.

"Bien... look at me while you say that."

I looked straight into eyes that seemed darker than before.

"I'm your good girl."

And then she sat up.

It took me a few seconds to realize what she had done as I looked at her, confused.

"What are you doing?"

My heart was beating so fast, fearing that maybe she had changed her mind. But instead, she took her time and pulled off her own shirt, revealing her sports bra underneath.

Then she lay back.

"On top of me."

She gestured toward herself, and I obeyed.

I climbed on top of her clumsily, still shaken, before she repositioned me so I was sitting right over her abs.

"Roll your body."

"W-what?"

"Just like I taught you."

My brain didn't seem to process what she had just said, but it didn't have to.

She gripped my hips, moving them slightly, and I felt electricity shoot through my whole body.

Here I was - all wrecked up - moving my hips against her abs.

Well-defined abs.

I could feel every single muscle beneath me.