#alexia x reader

Following lunch, there is a window of free time before the mandatory recovery and video sessions scheduled for later in the afternoon. Your original plan was simple : spending the hour with Alexia in her bed, trying to stay silent while she is between your legs.

Life has other ideas.

Vicky catches as you're stepping away from the dining hall. “Hey ! I really need your help with something, please ?”

“Vicky, I already promised Aitana I’d hang out with her,” you sigh. “Can’t we do it later ?”

“No, because Ona’s going to be around later, please.”

She looks genuinely desperate, pulling out full puppy-dog eyes that make you let out a defeated sigh. “Is this actually that important ?”

She nods frantically.

“Alright, fine. Yeah, I’ll come with you.”

She jumps on you with an enthusiastic hug, and you inwardly pray that whatever this is, it’s worth sacrificing time with your girlfriend. As you walk down the hotel corridors behind her, you quickly pull out your phone to text Alexia, apologizing profusely and explaining that Vicky essentially begged you. You turn off the screen before Vicky can catch a glimpse of the contact name.

As you get to her room, Vicky is fidgeting. It isn't her normal inability to stand still, but rather an ‘I have an announcement to make’ kind of way. You sit next to her on her bed, waiting patiently while she kneads a Stitch plushie so hard it would probably be crying for help if it was conscious.

She locks eyes with you. “How much can I trust you?”

You shrug, trying to keep things light. “I mean, it depends. What did you break ? Who’s coming for you ? Just so you know, if you snoop through Alexia’s room and found another strap, you're on your own.”

“Please, I’m serious.”

The tone makes you stop immediately. You have never heard Vicky this serious about something that wasn’t football. You eye her carefully, sensing the stress radiating from her.

“Hey, what is it, kid ? I promise whatever it is stays between us.”

Vicky looks through the window, her face flushed and refusing to meet your eyes as she mumbles, “I have a crush on someone, and I don’t know what to do.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. You were mentally preparing to hide a body or take the blame for breaking hotel property, not navigate teenage romance.

“Do I know her ?”

She nods in lieu of an answer.

“Okay, so a footballer,” you summarize. You wait for her to elaborate, but it seems her initial bravery evaporated the moment those words left her mouth.

“Who is it ?”

More silence. Her gaze refuses to budge from the window while poor Stitch takes the brunt of her nervous breakdown.

“Vic, hey. I can’t give you advice if you shut down on me.”

“It’s Clara,” she admits, so low you barely catch it.

You freeze, because her attitude is starting to make a lot of sense.

You shift closer, wrapping a warm arm around her shoulders as she leans over to rest her head against yours.

“What do you like about her ?” you ask gently, keeping your tone quiet and safe.

“She’s so sweet, and cute, and we can just talk for hours without it feeling forced,” Vicky rambles, her guard finally dropping. “She keeps me grounded, you know ? She’s way more level-headed than me, I want to be around her all the time, and she gets football.”

Adorable.

You rest your chin on top of her hair with a quiet smile. “So, what do you need from me, kid ?”

“I don’t even know,” she murmurs weakly into your shirt. “Your opinion, I guess. Help.”

You turn your tongue in your mouth, carefully measuring your words. Given the situation, the consequences could end up being huge.

“My initial opinion would be to tell you that having a crush on a teammate isn’t the wisest thing in the world.”

Her shoulders drop. You catch where her heart wants this conversation to go.

“But it’s a bit too late for that. If you’re sure about your feelings, go for it. Just do a little recon first and make sure she likes you back, unless you want to spend the next five years surviving pure awkwardness.”

She falls back onto the bed dramatically. “That’s the problem ! I have literally zero idea how to figure that out.”

“Look for the subtle signs,” you explain. “When you look across the room, is she already staring at you and looking away real fast ? Does she crack up at every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth ? Is she always mysteriously showing up wherever you are ? Stuff like that.”

She turns her head toward you. “Do you think she does that with me ?”

“Do I think?” You furrow your brows, looking down at her. “Vicky, you’re the one with the crush ! How am I supposed to know what she’s doing ?”

“Well, you hang out around us all the time !” she insists, gesturing with her hands. “And, I mean, you’re our captain. You’re observant. You’re experienced—”

“Did you just call me old ?”

She doesn’t even bother to deny it. “Look, I need your help ! Couldn’t you just... try to become her friend or something and subtly bring me up ?”

You roll your eyes. “Vicky, I’d like to point out to you that I’ve finished high school.”

“I have too !”

“Anyway, I am not doing your covert espionage for you. Besides, I barely know Clara.”

The simple sound of Clara’s name makes Vicky flush, making you fight off a laugh.

“If you want a real idea of where her head is at,” you continue, softening slightly, “you should ask someone who actually knows you both well. Have you told anyone else ?”

“I told Jana.”

“And what was Jana’s expert assessment ?”

Vicky grunts, burying her face into her knees. “Jana is useless ! She sees romance in literally everything, so she’s convinced Clara likes me back. I mean, come on, last camp she was dead sure you and Alexia had a secret thing going on. She’s completely delusional.”

Well then, maybe Clara does have a crush on Vicky.

You force out a nonchalant laugh, playing it cool. “Yeah, fair point. Sounds like Jana’s radar for team romance is broken.”

Vicky doesn’t seem to process your reaction at all, far too consumed by her own internal crisis to overthink the brief flicker in your voice.

“Have you told anyone else ?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation away.

“No, nobody who knows both of us,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn't want to make things weird for our friends, especially if there is nothing on her end.”

You let out a soft, resigned sigh. You know there's no way you're winning a logical argument against a teenager in love. “Alright, look. I’ll keep my eyes open and see if I catch a vibe,” you offer, raising a cautionary finger. “No promises, though. Got it ?”

Before you can even finish the sentence, she throws her arms around you in a bone-crushing hug.

That is how you end up seated across from Clara at dinner. Vicky has slyly positioned herself diagonally behind you at the adjacent table, perfectly angled so you can catch every tiny eye contact or reaction.

You find yourself asking, for the thousandth time today, how on earth you let yourself get roped into this.

Alexia slides into the empty chair right next to Clara. If you happen to flash a quick wink toward Jenni when Alexia decides to join your table instead of sitting right next to her, it’s nobody’s business.

Alexia is deep in a passionate explanation to Clara about a tactic that was briefly mentioned during the afternoon video session. Clara is drinking in every word, nodding at every sentence like it's gospel, both of their plates sitting entirely ignored.

You’re sent back to what will soon be a decade ago, your very first call-up for the national team, when you were still wide-eyed and trying to figure out where you fit.

It had been right after your first official video session, and you were hopelessly confused by half of the tactical instructions the coach had thrown at you. Vero Boquete had been kind enough to break it all down for you at dinner, while Alexia sat directly across from you.

Back then, Alexia had worn that exact same expression Clara is wearing right now : brows drawn tight in intense focus, head tilted slightly, nodding along in rapt attention. The only noticeable difference is that Clara has more of a baby face than Alexia had at the time.

It stuck with you because that was the very first time you truly felt like you belonged with the national team. Just sitting around, talking football with your peers. You simply never clicked with Alexia beyond those pitch-side conversations. She already had her established circle with the Barça players, and she’s never been one for small talk.

Whenever the two of you tried to talk about literally anything other than football, it was painfully awkward. Neither of you knew what to say, and you never had enough forced proximity to figure it out. The one time she tried to make friendly conversation about Barça, you instantly shut it down with a blunt, “Real Madrid is way better.” You silently agreed to stay out of each other's orbits after that.

Looking back, it’s crazy how effortless it is to spend years in the same room with someone and never truly know them, especially considering how compatible you are with Alexia. Aitana even told you once that half the Barça girls assumed you were deliberately avoiding them, when in reality you were just minding your own business.

You get hit on the shoulder, a bit too hard in your opinion. “Ow !”

“Oh, sorry ! You just seemed totally spaced out,” Clara says quickly, meeting your gaze with apologetic, wide eyes. Between that and the baby face, it’s obvious why Alexia can never stay mad at these kids for long. “What were you thinking about ?” she asks, tilting her head.

“You just remind me a lot of a younger Ale,” you admit, pointing your fork directly at the woman sitting next to her. “Same face, same expressions, same complete inability to stop thinking about football for five seconds.”

Clara reddens, though she doesn't seem surprised by the comparison.

“I honestly have no idea why everyone keeps making that comparison. We really don’t look that much alike,” Alexia chimed in.

You scan her up and down, an amused smirk tugging at your lips. “Go look at pictures of yourself from back then. You really do.”

Alexia furrows her brows, instantly defensive. “No, I don’t !”

“Ale, I literally knew you when you were twenty-two,” you counter. “You had slightly less of a baby face than Clara does now, but that’s about it.”

“We’re just both brunette,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not just the hair, it’s how you act whenever someone talks tactics,” you explain, leaning back slightly. “The tiny head tilt, the way you refuse to blink like you’re terrified of missing a single detail, the little crease right between your eyebrows...”

Alexia crosses her arms, dropping into a dramatic pout that pulls affectionate laugh out of your chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You’re about to retort, but you feel Clara’s gaze on you and turn to look at her. There’s a flicker of confusion on her face, and it suddenly hits you : you are never this openly familiar with Alexia in public.

“Whatever, Capi,” you scoff, playing it off.

She only rolls her eyes in answer, while the suspicion slowly leaves Clara’s face. Thank God she isn’t the most drama-hungry one of her group. You have a feeling this would be going very differently if Jana was sitting in her seat.

You notice Clara’s gaze drift diagonally across the room instead, a shy smile appearing on her face, and you file that away in your mental evidence folder for Vicky.

The rest of the evening is spent playing Monopoly with a few of your Real and ex-Real teammates, while Alexia has plans with her own circle. You had wanted some alone time with her, but she pointedly reminded you that you stood her up for Vicky earlier. Naturally, she also tried to grill you about what you and the kid were talking about, but you didn't break.

The day of the game against England is one of focus. A win today will officially secure your qualification for Brazil, a fact that hums like an electric current through the entire squad. On top of that, even with the victory two months ago, there is still a deep need to send a clear message to the European champions.

The only almost-alone time you manage to get with Alexia is after morning training, back in your room. She rests securely in your arms, a soft sense of contentment washing over both of you as her fingers idly trace soothing patterns down the side of your leg.

“I told you, it’s just so weird to see,” you hear Aitana whisper, her voice not nearly as discreet as she thinks it is.

“Weird doesn’t even cover it,” Misa mutters right back, seated next to her on Aitana’s bed.

You eye them both, giving them the finger.

Misa doesn't even flinch, a wicked grin spreads across her face. “Does that finger go inside Alexia ?”

Alexia freezes in your arms, while Aitana is seized by a violent coughing fit, choking on her own air. You and Misa both lose it, cackling as you slide out from behind Alexia to high-five with the goalkeeper.

“Ale, oh my god, you should have seen your face !” Misa exclaims, doubled over and still laughing.

Alexia lets out a long groan. You press a tender kiss to the side of her head, and she tugs at your hands, pulling you back into place until you're wrapped around her again, her cheeks still flushed.

“Amor, that was a tame one,” you tease, nudging her playfully.

She throws you a warning glare, but the tough facade crumbles the second you lean in and press a soft peck to her lips.

“Yep, still weird,” states Misa.

Aitana swats at Misa's arm. “You’re the one who started that one ! Honestly, this idiot” she gestures at you, “should have unloaded all those lewd details on you instead of traumatizing me.”

“What exactly have you told her ?” Alexia turns in your arms, her brows furrowing.

Suddenly, the hotel ceiling becomes the most fascinating thing in the entire world.

“Everything,” Aitana answers for you, stressing every syllable.

Misa perks up like a hawk. “Hold on... is there actually stuff that interesting ?”

The room goes dead silent. You can practically feel Misa narrowing her eyes at the shift in the air, her internal radar spiking.

“It cannot be that interesting.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not,” Alexia snaps back.

That brief dismissal doesn’t deter Misa at all. If anything, it only cements her suspicion that there’s gold buried right under the surface. It takes a few seconds, but a delighted "Oh my god" pierces through the heavy silence.

Her gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, a massive grin spreading across her face.

“No,” Alexia states firmly, attempting to shut it down on pure captain authority.

“Ale, your throat,” Misa points dramatically at her friend, whose facial expression suggests she’s seriously weighing the pros and cons of jumping off the 10th-floor window right then and there.

“Misa,” you warn, because you can sense how uncomfortable your girlfriend is becoming.

“Don’t Misa me. How did that happen ?”

“Misa, seriously,” you sigh, running a hand over your face. Alexia has turned a worrying shade of red.

“Oh, just wait until Jenni finds out !” Misa laughs, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Jenni is not finding out,” Alexia fires back, finding her voice beneath the sheer humiliation.

You decide to keep your mouth shut, recognizing that right now is not the time to drop the bomb that you might have already spilled it to Jenni.

“How can you be this much of a prude and still let her do that to you ?”

“Misa, shut it,” you cut in sternly, before Alexia passes out or drops out from the national team. Misa eyes you, trying to gauge if you’re serious. You return a hard stare, and she clamps her mouth shut, sensing that you are not joking around anymore.

You press a soft kiss to the top of Alexia’s head and gently pull her closer, repositioning her against your chest until you hear her quiet groan of satisfaction. Staying carefully away from the subject after that, you manage to smoothly diffuse the rest of the lingering tension.

The afternoon is spent entirely on game preparation. Alexia manages five minutes of peace with you in her room right before the bus leaves for the game. Your tongue spends most of that time inside her mouth. You can’t wait for some uninterrupted time with her, preferably naked.

The bus ride to the stadium is buzzing, you can tell the squad feels good about tonight. During pitch walk, you have a slightly awkward run-in with Lauren James. She cracks a quick joke referencing last camp, clearly throwing out a line to see if you'll bite. You just laugh politely and shut the conversation down cleanly.

The team was right to be confident. It’s a demonstration by your side, securing an easy 4–0 win. It includes a brace by Alexia and, to your displeasure, a late goal by Jenni after she is subbed in. Aitana providing the assist makes the whole thing a little easier to digest.

The bus ride back is a full-blown party with Samba music blasting over the speakers, and even Alexia loosens her grip on her usual stoic captain persona. You catch her doing a little dance, though you know for a fact she’ll swear up and down it never happened if you call her out on it.

While a bunch of the girls gather in someone's room to celebrate the victory, you opt for a peaceful night in your own room, exhausted from ninety minutes on the pitch and in serious need of recovery.

Sleep, however, refuses to cooperate. You finally give up the fight long past midnight and head down to the hotel break room to grab a cup of tea, hoping it might help you unwind.

Jenni is here, because of course she is. You genuinely start to wonder if the universe has a personal vendetta against you. Neither of you says a word as you fill the kettle and set it to boil.

You turn around to look at her. She’s leaning back against one of the tables, a warm mug cupped in her hands. From this angle, you can clearly see the 1994 tattoo on the outside of her wrist. It’s fading, clearly in the slow process of being laser-removed, but seeing it still causes something bitter and ugly to flare up inside your chest.

“Great goal, by the way. Must feel good to get on the scoresheet as a sub,” you say, throwing a playful wink her way.

Jenni tilts her head. “What are you trying to accomplish here ?”

“Just trying to congratulate a teammate,” you answer with an easy shrug.

She lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re such a shit-stirrer.”

In truth, you have no idea what your end game is here. You just need her to snap. If she gets mad, you get to be mad back, and anger is a blissfully uncomplicated emotion. There’s a quiet resentment brewing inside you toward Alexia for laying all her emotional baggage on you right in the middle of camp, but you can’t lash out at your girlfriend. Jenni, on the other hand, is easy.

“Must be tough,” you remark casually, watching the kettle steam, “getting used to being just another average player.”

Her knuckles turn white around her cup, but she keeps her composure. “Must be hard,” she fires back coldly, “knowing your importance in this team is due to how docile you are.”

“Pretty sure my position on top of Alexia has nothing to do with being docile.”

Jenni chuckles. “You make sex jokes about Ale because you lack self-confidence in every other aspect of the relationship. Being great in bed will only keep Alexia hooked for a few months at best.”

You take the hit silently, clinging to every soft, quiet moment you’ve shared with Alexia outside the bedroom just to numb the sharp sting of the words.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

“No great relationship relies on sex as its foundation,” she replies, taking a measured sip from her mug.

“It’s not the foundation of my relationship.”

“You talk an awful lot about it, then,” Jenni counters, leaning back against the counter with a cold smile. “I mean, I know firsthand Ale is incredible in bed, but let’s be serious for a second, it won’t save it.”

You feel the fire you started beginning to burn you, scorching hot and dangerous. But like an arsonist, you just can’t bring yourself to stop.

“It’s funny how you still think you’re an expert on Alexia when you haven’t been together for years,” you push, leaning in close.

“For someone who was so damn quiet during an important fight, you certainly run your mouth an awful lot with me,” Jenni snaps back, her eyes narrowing.

The kettle beeps, signaling the water is ready, but you ignore it. “Talking shit with you has zero consequences. We’re going to hate each other the exact same amount before and after this conversation.”

Jenni blinks, visibly taken aback by your honesty. “You’re a deeply fucked-up person, I hope you know that,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. “What do you think I am ? Your personal punching bag ?”

You shrug in lieu of an answer, letting the silence settle between you.

Jenni eyes you up and down, her expression turning cool and calculated. “You know your relationship with Alexia is built on a foundation of sand. Alexia will act like it doesn’t matter, but I’m sure we both know her enough to know how much importance she gives to the opinions of the people she’s close with. Sure, people like Vicky and Misa like you. But then there’s me, Irene, Mariona, Patri, Mapi... and we both know the list goes on for longer. It’s going to eat her up inside until it breaks the relationship.”

She pauses, watching the hit land. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Jenni intentionally clips your shoulder hard as she pushes past you toward the door. You stand there next to the steaming kettle, knowing damn well that tea isn't going to fix the knot currently twisting in your chest.

The day after beating England is an off day. You and Alexia had been back and forth on what to do with it. Most of the team had pitched in to rent a boat with a skipper for the day, and you originally planned to go. But Alexia campaigned hard for a day just for the two of you.

In the end, the lingering mess with Jenni combined with your need for freedom and uninterrupted time with Alexia won out. You made up an excuse about visiting a friend in Mallorca, while Alexia claimed a last-minute sponsor commitment. It’s a cover story both of you have used in the past, so nobody bats an eye.

To ensure you don't accidentally run into the squad, you use Misa to gather subtle intel on their itinerary. You and Alexia slip out of the hotel long before the rest of the team even wakes up, meeting with Alba and Eli for an early breakfast.

You triple-check with Alexia to make sure she doesn't regret skipping time with her family, but with the end of the season just one match away, she dismisses it, reasoning that she'll be seeing plenty of them soon enough anyway.

Breakfast is spent inside their hotel room, eating room service out on the small balcony. You couldn’t risk going out to a public cafe, not with Mallorca currently crawling with women’s football fans.

The morning starts off quietly, everyone slowly waking up. Naturally, the conversation drifts back to camp, which forces you and Alexia into some uncomfortable lying.

“So,” you start, eager to steer the conversation away from the team. “What have you two been up to in Mallorca ? Especially you Alba, you got here early, right ?”

“What everyone does in Mallorca, enjoying the sea, obviously,” Alba replies. “We also went to Sóller with Judith on Thursday, grabbed Mami from the airport when her late flight got in, and then took a boat trip yesterday before watching your game.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Judith went back to Barcelona already ?” you ask, curious.

The mood at the table instantly shifts. Alba glares at Alexia, who suddenly finds the hotel pool down below extremely interesting, while Eli gives a heavy sigh.

“She would have loved to be here with us,” Alba says, pointing at Alexia with her knife. “But this one doesn’t think the same.”

“Don't point with the knife,” Eli interjects, placing her hand on Alba’s wrist.

“Only like three people in football know,” Alexia shoots back, her tone sharp with frustration. “It’s not an unreasonable ask for you to keep it from her, Alba.”

“Fa anys que estem junts, per què parles com si fos una noia qualsevol a qui només li interessin les xafarderies del futbol ?” Alba shoots back in Catalan, making your brows furrow at the sudden language shift. [We’ve been together for years, why do you talk like she’s just some random girl who only cares about football gossip ?]

“Quan dius anys, comptes totes aquestes vegades que vas trencar ?” [When you say years, are you counting all those times you broke up ?]

“Noies,” Eli interrupts, her voice low firm. “Stop having the same fight over and over. Alba, let Alexia choose who knows about her girlfriend. Alexia, leave Alba’s relationship alone.”

Both sisters cross their arms and pout simultaneously in a synchronized movement. Looking at them now, there's no doubt they’re related.

“And stop switching to Catalan when there’s someone at the table who doesn’t speak it,” Eli adds, giving them both a pointed look.

The two of them lower their heads, looking like scolded teenagers with their flushed cheeks. You can’t help but chuckle, which earns you a death stare from Alexia.

You reach out and poke her nose. Even though she swats your hand away, it tugs a little smile onto her face. Across the table, Alba makes a dramatic gagging sound that breaks the tension, getting a laugh out of everyone.

“So, you don’t speak any Catalan?” Alba asks, leaning forward on her elbows.

You shrug, setting down your cup. “My best friend is Aitana, so she’s taught me the basics, but I can’t follow a conversation. It could be cool to learn it properly at some point.”

“You don’t need to,” Alexia interjects.

“I know, but I still think it’d be nice,” Then, because you simply can’t resist teasing her, you add, “Plus, then I’d understand what you mumble in your sleep. It’s strictly in Catalan, by the way.”

A deep crease forms between her brows. “I do not mumble in my sleep.”

“You totally do !” Alba insists, jumping on the opportunity. “I’ve been telling you that for years. Tell her, Mami !”

Eli takes a calm sip of her drink, thoroughly enjoying her daughter’s denial. “Alexia, you’ve done it ever since you were a little girl. You just refuse to believe anyone who tells you so.”

“Because I don’t.”

“It’s cute when you do,” you offer.

“Doesn’t matter, because I don’t,” she insists. Despite the defensive pout, you catch the tiny twitch at the corner of her lips, she’s struggling not to break character.

“Honestly, save your breath,” Alba interrupts with a wave of her hand. “We’ve been trying to get her to confess to that for years. She’s never going to admit it.”

It’s officially a challenge, and you have zero intention of losing.

You turn fully toward Alexia, your fingers trailing lightly up the inside of the arm resting on the back of your chair. Throwing in your best puppy-dog eyes, you ask, “You’re sure you don’t, amor?”

She visibly swallows, her eyes darting away for a split second before snapping right back to yours. A light flush creeps up her neck to her cheeks.

“I don’t ?” she attempts. You arch a single eyebrow, your thumb idly caressing the delicate skin over the veins on her wrist. “Maybe... sometimes ?” Her voice drops, small and hesitant, but the concession is unmistakable.

The table bursts out laughing, sending a much deeper red rushing into Alexia's cheeks. “It’s not fair,” she mumbles, glaring at her plate.

“God, you are so whipped,” Alba mocks.

Before Alexia can pull back or cross her arms in defense, you interlace your fingers with hers and lift her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

The rest of the meal passes easily over talk of summer break, vacation itineraries, and the upcoming trip to Mexico, leaving the tension of camp feel far away.

It’s still early when you arrive at the boat rental. Misa has texted you to confirm that the team hasn’t even left the hotel yet.

Alexia is still bundled up in a sweatshirt, because apparently 23° isn’t warm enough to warrant a t-shirt. Luckily, the tournament draw didn’t send you to Iceland in February.

With your caps pulled low and sunglasses firmly in place, you navigate the paperwork with the rental agency. They double-check your boat permit before handing over the keys. Alexia lets out a dramatic sigh of relief once you step away, as if the entire fifteen-minute administrative check had taken several painful hours.

While she organizes your stuff on board, you take your position at the helm.

“Am I down bad if I say that knowing you can captain a boat is weirdly sexy ?” Alexia calls out, looking over at you from the aft deck.

You shake your head, feeling a warm blush creep up your neck while she smirks, proud of herself. “You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

The initial stretch of the ride is quiet in the best way possible. The gentle splash of the sea air and the rhythmic roar of the engine fill the space as you steer, occasionally gesturing toward a scenic view in the distance. You catch Alexia’s gaze alternating between the passing shoreline and you as she stretches out on the deck, letting the sun warm her skin.

Eventually, satisfied with her sunbathing, Alexia stands up and comes to join you at the helm, now down to just her bikini top and a pair of loose white cotton shorts. She presses a lingering kiss against your shoulder before resting her chin right there.

“You’re going to have to claim your 'sponsorship commitment' was outdoors with the tan you’re picking up today,” you observe, a small smile playing on your lips.

“I’ll figure something out,” she says, her voice trailing off with a faint trace of tiredness. She shifts her weight, pressing her body flushed against yours so her head rests against your shoulder.

“Go to sleep for a little bit, amor,” you tell her, pretty sure she’s already halfway there.

A stubborn hum vibrates against you. “No. I’m here for you. Not to nap on a boat.”

A quiet smile touches your lips. Within minutes, she shifts, stretching out across the seating cushions with her head resting comfortably in your lap. Every few moments, your free hand drops from the helm to gently brush through her hair or stroke her warm skin, letting the quiet sea stretch out ahead of you.

You think back over the last few days and the mess that camp has become. A mess that, if you're being completely honest with yourself, is partly your own fault. You know your insecurities and tension aren't making an already volatile situation any easier.

“Ale ?” you speak up, testing the air.

There must be an edge to your voice, because she reacts instantly, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head so her eyes can meet yours. You gently trace the line of her jaw with your thumb, trying to ground yourself as much as her. You look down at her face, momentarily derailed by the worry written in her features, before flicking your gaze back up to the open water ahead to keep the boat on course.

“What’s wrong, cari ?” she asks softly. She takes the hand resting against her jaw, guiding it slightly so her thumb can lightly trace the inside of your wrist, offering a soothing touch.

“I wanted to apologize,” you start, swallowing the heavy lump in your throat. Those words never come easily. “For the mess at camp with Jenni. I know we’re both being... difficult. I should act more maturely when we’re around the team, and I know it matters to you.”

Alexia studies you quietly for a beat. “I heard the conversation you two had late last night. Irene also mentioned the run-in you had a few days ago, even if she had no idea what it was about.”

You freeze. Shit.

“Were you just waiting for me to say something first ?”

“Not really,” she replies softly, her thumb continuing its steady, reassuring rhythm against your wrist. You’re forced to free your hand for the boat driving. “I was planning to bring it up later today. I just didn't want to start our day off with it.”

“Are you mad at me ?” you ask, biting down on your bottom lip.

She shifts, pulling herself up from your lap until she’s sitting beside you again. “Yeah,” she says plainly. “Like Jenni said last night, I really don’t understand what you’re looking for here.”

You can’t exactly tell Alexia the truth. That your anger was directed at the world for the weight of what she had confessed to you, or that Jenni embodies the fear of losing what you two have. You refuse to make her regret opening up to you.

“I don’t know,” you offer weakly, staring ahead at the cresting waves. “Have you ever met someone who makes you angry on sight ?”

She sits in silence for a few seconds, looking out over the sea. “The Real Madrid crest,” she deadpans

You let out a sigh, though despite yourself, the joke cuts through the panic and calms you down. “Ale, please...”

“Sorry, sorry. Have you ever tried to work out the why with Jenni ?”

You focus on the steady hum of the boat beneath your hands, letting the vibration of the helm ground you while you pull together an honest answer.

“We just... never clicked, and I don’t even fully know why,” you say slowly. “I think part of it is her need to be the center of attention. I’ve just never really gravitated toward people like that.”

“We never got along from day one, honestly. I think her loud, center-of-the-room energy just isn't something I naturally feel comfortable around.” You pause, staring out at the open water as a deeper truth bubbles up.

“Plus... I think back then, it bothered me how easily she fit in while I was struggling just to exist in the squad. I was young, closeted, homesick, and insecure. She was a top player, living openly with her girlfriend, and everyone adored her.”

“Sounds like you had a crush on her,” Alexia mocks gently, likely more to make the conversation feel less heavy.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Fun fact : Aitana said the exact same thing when we talked about it during the Olympics.”

You can feel Alexia’s surprise. “Our special knack for setting each other off goes back years, Ale. The World Cup was just the spark that made us start going at each other instead of just quietly ignoring one another, I’d say. That’s why I brought it up with Aitana, she’s good at psychoanalyzing these things.”

You pause, looking back down at her with a wry smile. “Oh, and as for the crush thing ? We concluded that it was way more about envy than anything else. Like... I have never wanted to fuck Jenni.” You pull a face of disgust at the mere thought.

“Yeah, I can’t really see that happening either,” Alexia jokes, the tension easing slightly. “I didn’t need the image, by the way.”

Then her tone shifts, grounding into something more serious. “While I understand where it stems from now, I really need you to try to bury the hatchet. I’m not asking you to become best friends with her, just stop going at each other’s throats every time you end up alone together.”

In the back of your mind, an ugly truth lingers : part of why you dig your heels in with Jenni is because you finally have something over her, and that "something" is sitting right next to you at the helm. It’s obviously not even close to the reason you’re dating Alexia, but it’s certainly been a nice, p(r)etty side effect. That’s a thought you plan on taking to the grave, it definitely wouldn't go over well with your girlfriend.

“I can try that... for you.”

“Thanks,” Alexia murmurs. She presses a tender kiss against your temple before settling her head back down into your lap. “And maybe... try having an actual, mature conversation with her ? It might clear the air.”

The stillness stretches out until Alexia speaks up again, her tone thoughtful. “You know, Jenni was wrong about what she said regarding our teammates.”

You look down at her in your lap, doubtful. “You really believe that ?”

“Look, I’m not saying there won't be drama initially,” she says softly, reaching out to gently trace your knee. “But they’ll accept it when they see how happy you make me.”

You can’t hold back the silly grin spreading across your features. “Stop being such a simp.” She swats you across the stomach, making you laugh as you catch her hand.

“Also...” she continues, her tone dropping into something more guarded, “can you just... not speak about our sex life with the others ? Please ?”

“Even Aitana ?”

Alexia sighs, rolling her eyes. “At most Aitana,” she concedes.

“Noted, amor.”

Despite her promise to stay awake and spend the day with you, you feel the moment Alexia drifts off. Her breathing evens out, her body going soft against your lap. She doesn't even stir when you cut the boat's engine an hour later for lunch.

Moving as carefully as possible so you don't wake her, you step away to unpack the food you ordered from the rental company. You take a quick look around the horizon, double-checking that no other boats are anchored anywhere near your quiet spot.

When you walk back over to her, she looks so peacefully that you can't resist pulling out your phone to snap a picture. Setting it aside, you crawl over her, lowering your weight to gently lick and bite along her midriff to wake her up. You simply can't help yourself when she looks this good, the usual cut of her abs less pronounced in that resting posture.

Alexia comes back to her senses, letting out a low groan as her hand instinctively reaches up to tangle in your hair, giving it a light, firm tug. “You should have woken me up,” she grumbles, her eyes blinking open lazily.

You just kiss a slow path up her chest and neck, finishing right against her lips. “You were far too cute to disturb. Now move, it’s time to eat.” You drop one last, lingering kiss on her lips before pulling away, heading up to the upper deck with the lunch setup.

Alexia wanders up to the upper deck shortly after, still bearing all the sweet, sleepy signs of someone who was completely passed out five minutes ago. Sitting down across from you, she casually steals the non-alcoholic beer you just opened, taking a sip before handing it back with a teasing smile.

The oysters are fresh, the vegetables crisp, and the atmosphere between you is light. Between bites, the two of you fall into an easy, laughter-filled conversation, trading stories of the most unforgettable meals you've had in random corners of the world while traveling for matches and holidays.

With no other boats appearing on the horizon, you decide to stay put for a while. You both head to the aft deck to stretch out on your stomachs to tan, loosening your tops to keep tan lines to a minimum.

“I can’t believe we’re in the middle of national team camp,” you declare.

Alexia hums in quiet agreement. Her face is buried in her arms, giving you a completely unobstructed view of her back and the gorgeous curves of her body. You’re no better than a man, because God, that ass.

She clears her throat, making you jump. “Cari, I was asking you something.”

You quickly glance back at her face. She’s turned her head, watching you with a knowing expression. “I was lost in thought,” you justify lamely. She arches a single eyebrow, clearly not buying a word of it. You wisely decide not to dig your hole any deeper. “What were you asking ?”

“I asked when we have to return the boat,” she repeats, her lips twitching with smug satisfaction.

Refusing to let her win that easily, you roll over onto your back. Just as expected, her eyes immediately drop to your bare chest, her smugness faltering.

“It depends. We could stay here way longer, but it could also be great to ride the boat more.” 

You strongly doubt Alexia heard a single word you just said. In one smooth motion, she shifts over, settling her weight on top of you. Your hands instinctively slide up her bare back to keep her close as her mouth meets yours.

“Ale... we’re in public,” you murmur against her mouth, trying, and failing, to sound like the responsible one.

She pulls back just enough to glance around the empty blue water. “There’s no one here, cari.” Her hands drift upward, fingers skimming the sides of your ribs just under your breasts while her lips trace a warm path down your jawline. A small, helpless sound slips past your lips before you can catch it.

“We’re public figures,” you remind her, reaching up to catch her wrists and guide her hands back down to your hips. “I would very much like to avoid my parents seeing me fuck you because we’re on the front page of Marca.”

She ignores the reprimand, pressing a soft kiss against the pulse point in your throat. “We’re in open water, we’d see a paparazzi boat coming from a mile away.” She nuzzles her way up to your ear, her breath warm against your skin as her tone softens. “Though, obviously, if you really don’t want to, we won’t.”

You quickly weigh your options, coming to the realization that you want Alexia right now. Badly. It’s been an agonizing week of staying in close quarters, constantly around her without a single moment of real intimacy. So, if the bay really is clear...

“Let’s at least move to the bench seat, then,” you give in with a breathy laugh. “The hard deck isn’t going to be comfortable.”

Alexia’s smile turns triumphant. She presses a quick peck to your lips before popping up onto her feet, extending a hand to help pull you up after her.

Once you reach the padded bench, Alexia pushes you down, settling her body over yours once again. Her mouth finds yours immediately, deep and lingering. Neither of you rushes. You let the rhythm stay unhurried and languid, knowing you have all the time in the world right now to just enjoy each other, a that might not happen again for quite some time.

Your hands travel slowly up and down Alexia’s sides, tracing the contrast between her soft curves and firm muscles, her skin still radiating the heat of the sun. She holds most of her weight off you with one arm, her other hand making lazy circles against your hip.

The kiss turns hungrier, the slow buildup giving way to a shared ache. You slide one hand up to her chest, cupping her breast. A low groan escapes her against your mouth when your thumb and index finger find her sensitive nipple, rolling it.

Your other hand slips up to join the first, both of them working over the soft flesh. Alexia lets out a breathless sigh, her forehead dropping onto your shoulder, her breath coming fast and hot against your skin as she shifts onto both forearms to give you free rein.

Your right hand glides downward, nails lightly dragging over the skin of her contracted abs before sliding between her thighs. The heat radiating off her is palpable before you even make contact.

“All of that from a few kisses and me touching your breasts, hum?” you tease.

“Shut up.” Her breath hitches into a whimper as you drag your tongue up the vein on the left side of her neck. You bite down lightly beneath her jawline, feeling her pulse jump under your teeth as she arches her hips down against yours. “Please, cari.”

You're not in as much of a teasing mood as usual, far too eager to hear her moan against your ear. You hook your fingers into her swimsuit bottoms and peel them down her thighs, Alexia impatiently kicking them aside as they reach her ankles.

She is completely soaked. You start slowly as you slide your first finger inside, even though you know her body is more than ready, simply because you love the tiny, breathless whimper it draws from her throat.

When your thumb grazes her clit, her hips grind down instinctively. “Easy, amor,” you whisper against her skin. Your free hand finds the firm curve of her ass, your fingers sinking into her flesh.

You stay in that steady, deliberate rhythm, letting the friction build between you. Alexia tilts her head deeper in your neck when you add a second finger, leaving you intoxicated by her quiet moans and the way she grips around you.

She starts to bite down on your neck to muffle her sounds, but you pull back to escape her teeth. “Marks, Ale. The whole team is gonna think I’m some fuckboy who hooks up with girls at every camp.”

“Would they be wrong ? Fuck.” She cuts off with a sharp gasp as your thumb presses down with deliberate pressure right against her clit.

“There’s only one girl that I want,” you say, your free hand sliding up to frame her jaw, turning her head to kiss her. You can feel the smile forming against your lips mid-kiss. “And what we have isn’t just some casual hookup.”

“Yeah ?” she breathes, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her jaw. “Yeah. She happens to be my incredible girlfriend.”

A giddy chuckle escapes her lips, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you bring your mouth back to hers.

Your right wrist is starting to ache from the awkward angle, and you can feel Alexia’s arms beginning to tremble under her own weight. “Let’s move, yeah ?” you ask, biting her earlobe. “Back against my front.”

She obliges as you slide your fingers out of her, shifting until her back is pressed against your chest. You sweep her hair over one side so you have full access to one bare shoulder, your hands traveling down her body once again. Your left forearm wraps firmly around her waist to anchor her hips in place, while your right hand slides back down between her legs.

The angle is infinitely better. With every forward thrust of your fingers, the heel of your palm grinds against her clit. Alexia tries to squeeze her thighs together in response to the intense friction, but you quickly lock your ankles over hers, holding her legs parted and completely open for you.

Alexia wraps her arm over her face, burying her mouth into the crook of her elbow to keep her moans from carrying. You don’t think other boats would be too surprised to hear people fucking in Mallorca from afar, but you understand why Alexia might be hesitant.

Leaning into her, you whisper praises right into her ear. “You’re taking me so well, amor. You feel so, so good. If I could have you like this forever, I would. God, I love to feel you pulsating around my fingers. You’re perfect, just wide open for me like this.”

Her body hitches, getting closer as you keep your rhythm steady, not altering what brought her here. Feeling her hanging by a single thread, you catch the cartilage of her ear between your teeth, whispering low against her overheating skin “You’re such a good girl for me, you know that, right ?”

That last whisper is the catalyst she needs. Alexia shudders hard, her body convulsing as her muscles grip your fingers in a tight, breathless climax before she goes limp against your chest.

You gently ease your fingers out of her, careful not to overstimulate her, and bring them right up to your lips beside her face.

“You taste incredible, you’re so good for me, Ale,” you mumble against her skin, pressing a soft kiss to her warm shoulder.

A quiet stillness settles over the boat as her heavy breathing gradually evens out. After a long moment, she rolls over, shifting back around until she’s hovering above you once again, her dark eyes glittering with renewed intent.

“Now,” she murmurs, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across her lips, “I want to be the one who tastes you.”

“I’m certainly not going to stop you,” you smile, your hand tangling gently into her hair as she begins her slow descent down your body.

You're lying underneath her, still panting from your orgasm, when she leans in and sucks at your earlobe. “See ? Still not a single person around,” she whispers mockingly against your skin.

“Fuck off,” you manage back, pushing her down so you can cuddle with her. She smells like a mix of sweat and sunscreen, her body warm both from the sun and everything you just did.

After lying together until your heart rate finally settles, you both jump into the cool, turquoise water to refresh yourselves and rinse off the heat of the afternoon. Once you climb back up to start up the engine, Alexia pulls a towel around her shoulders and plants herself right in the passenger seat beside you, keeping you company for the whole journey back to shore.

The rhythmic lap of the waves and the cool sea breeze fill the quiet between you. Alexia rests her hand on your lap, her thumb making small circles over your skin. Whenever the water clears up and you don't need absolute focus on steering, you lean over to steal a quick kiss from her lips or her cheek.

“You told me once that it was your granddad who got you into boating, right ?” Alexia asks lightly, likely just to start up a conversation.

“Both my grandparents, actually,” you tell her, a warm smile creeping up your face at the memory. “They loved it more than anything. The second they retired, they traded Madrid for a house up near Sanxenxo. I spent almost every break I had up at their place, and my friends came along often. The only catch was that if they wanted to come, they had to come help me train on the pitch every morning.”

The two of you laugh at that. “When I went on my first proper vacation with my friends, I was waking up before sunrise to go train,” Alexia says. “They all thought I was a psycho.”

“I mean, were they wrong?” you tease, glancing over at her.

She smacks your leg in fake outrage. “Coming from the one who literally held their friends hostage as personal ballboys ? Please.”

You just shrug, giving her an innocent look that earns you a classic Alexia eye-roll. “Anyway,” she continues, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, “when did you actually learn how to skipper one of these things ?”

“My grandparents actually had their own boat. Wasn’t as luxurious as this one, obviously,” you gesture around the glittering boat rented for the day. “As soon as I turned 14, they let me take the helm. I started working on my licenses during the summers at 16, got the PNB at 17, and then finished the PER a bit later, right after the World Cup in France.”

“Cari,” Alexia says, her tone dripping with affectionate amusement. “You do realize I have absolutely no idea what any of those acronyms mean, right ?”

You wince, feeling a sudden heat in your cheeks. “Right, sorry. Got a little carried away geeking out there.”

She leans over and presses a kiss to your shoulder, her eyes warm as she looks up at you. “Don’t apologize. It’s cute. You don’t get like that about many things.”

You shrug, a faint smile touching your lips. “Yeah. I guess it’s just something I genuinely love doing that also brings back the best memories, you know ?”

Alexia hums in quiet agreement, her thumb still softly tracing patterns against your leg. “I get it. For me, that’s fishing with my granddad. When I was young, he used to take me up near Santa Eulàlia de Ronçana because the Besòs back in Mollet was too polluted to fish in. We’d fish in the Riera de Tenes instead, it was cleaner after the local conservation efforts. Though honestly, it was never really about the fish. Especially when they introduced the pesca sense mort rule, which drove my granddad crazy.”

She chuckles warmly at the memory. “It was just about having the whole day together in nature. It’s stunning out there, I really should take you sometime.”

“Wait, I went to Bigues i Riells years ago with Aitana,” you recall, searching your memory. “Isn’t that right near there ?”

“It’s super close,” Alexia confirms, her curiosity piqued. “What were you two doing all the way out there ? It’s not near where Aitana is from.”

“One of our friends’ parents had a vacation house there. It was just a nice, quiet few days to unwind and hike around. Like you said, it’s a beautiful spot.”

“Are you sure you’re actually going to enjoy Mexico with me ?” Her voice is steady, but when you glance over, you catch a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.

You furrow your brows. “Where is this coming from, amor ?”

“It’s just...” Alexia lets out a quiet sigh. “You don’t seem like someone who enjoys a vacation where you just lie around doing nothing, and that’s pretty much the whole itinerary for Mexico. Look at Prague, Bigues i Riells, what you told me about your ex and how you travel with your friends. A lazy resort trip isn't really your thing.”

You ease back on the throttle for a moment, wrapping your arm around her to pull her soothingly against your side. She snuggles close, burying her face into the crook of your neck.

“The plan isn’t just lying around,” you tell her softly, kissing the top of her head. “It’s lying around with you. That changes everything”

Alexia chuckles at the cheesiness, her breath warm against your skin. “Be serious, cari.”

“I’m being serious. We’ll tan, we’ll swim, we’ll eat good food, and do whatever the resort throws at us. Is it my ideal way to travel ? No,” you admit. “But I get to have you to myself, so I couldn't care less where we are.”

“We could always go to Mexico City, there are tons of things to visit there if you prefer,” Alexia offers quickly, the words tumbling out of her. “Or somewhere in the central or southern regions, with all the ancient temples and historical sites. We could even head to South America! It’s still a relatively short flight, and—”

You lean over and catch her lips in a deep kiss to cut her off. It works like an absolute charm. Once she releases a small, breathy sigh, you pull back and refocus your eyes on the open sea ahead.

“Ale, take a breath. It’s booked. We’re seeing your friends and family for a couple of days, and then it’s just four days of downtime for the two of us. I promise you, I’m not going to get bored of you in four days.”

You steal a quick glance at her, but her expression is still lingering with a trace of quiet doubt. “Amor, I promise,” you reassure her gently, squeezing her knee. “I already have those kinds of trips planned with my friends for this summer anyway. Plus, we can always plan a bigger vacation together after Brazil next year. Besides, walking around super crowded tourist hubs together right now isn't exactly great for keeping a low profile, is it ? A luxury resort is going to give us way more privacy.”

“I hate that you make sense,” she complains, though a soft smile tugs at her lips. “You’re gonna hate Ibiza too, aren’t you ?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not. I love the idea of going on vacation with your ex, baby,” you reply, not even attempting to hide the thick irony in your voice.

She ignores your sarcasm altogether, her brain already moving a mile a minute. “We’ll just plan things to do. I’m sure we can get a few of the girls from the team to join in on the activities so it’s not just lying around.”

“Ale, take a breath. That’s way off in the future anyway,” you murmur, leaning over to press a tender kiss against her temple. “Let’s just enjoy today, yeah ?”

She groans softly in half-hearted agreement, giving up the argument. Moving fluidly, she rests her head right back in your lap like she did this morning. Her fingers wander aimlessly over whatever skin she can reach, tracing the line of your stomach, running over your bicep, and trailing softly along your collarbone.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs. You catch the quiet praise clearly despite the noise of the sea, feeling an involuntary blush warm your cheeks.

“Gracias, amor.”

“We should definitely do boat rides in Mexico and Ibiza,” she murmurs, a fond look in her eyes. “I really love watching you drive.”

You chuckle, guiding the boat smoothly through the swells. “We could do that, yeah. Today has been pretty enjoyable, after all.”

Alexia flashes you a wicked smirk. Her hand travels upward, her fingertips coming to a deliberate halt just beneath the fabric of your bikini top, making it teasingly clear which part of the “enjoyable” day she’s thinking about. You swat her hand away before she can get any ideas, prompting an exaggerated pout and a whine from her.

“You’re no fun,” she complains.

“Us going missing because I had an accident with the boat after you couldn’t keep your hands off me would be pretty stupid.”

“I don’t know, I’d say it’s a pretty great way to die,” she says, flashing you a unrepentant grin. You just shake your head at her, chuckling.

A comfortable silence settles over the boat once again, broken only by the steady hum of the engine and the splashing of the waves against the hull. After a while, Alexia breaks it. “Are you spending a few days in Galicia this summer ?”

“No, I’m not,” you admit with a small sigh. “I haven’t been up there in years, actually.”

“Too many memories ?”

 “I just don’t have a reason to go anymore.”

“A house and a boat there seems like a pretty good reason, no ?” she argues.

“We don’t have them anymore,” you admit, the words coming out easily enough, though you can’t quite swallow the sudden lump in your throat. It’s still a subject that stings if you dwell on it too long. “My grandparents had five kids, and they don’t exactly all get along. After they passed, there was no way we were going to share the property equitably. Some of them didn't care much about the house, and even less about the boat, and just wanted the money instead. Which was fair enough, honestly.”

“Why didn’t you buy out their shares ?”

“It happened during my second season with Real,” you explain, looking out over the open water. “I had money at the time, obviously, far more than most people my age. But it still would’ve been a pretty reckless financial decision back then. I was only twenty-three, and in sports, you never know how long a career is going to last. I wasn't sitting on millions back then.”  

You can feel her saddened gaze lingering on your face. “If it happened right now, would you buy them ?”

You take a moment to think, unconsciously biting at your bottom lip as you weigh the thought. “Back then, it wasn't even on my radar. Now, I’d take a real moment to think about it. But whether I’d actually pull the trigger ? I honestly don’t know,” you admit with a small shrug. “I’m still careful with my money, even though I have plenty of it now. I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs, you know ? If I suffer a career-ending injury in training tomorrow, I lose everything, the contracts, the sponsors, all of it. I’d be grateful I was always thrifty.”

“Don’t talk about injuries,” she groans softly, pressing her face into your stomach as if to ward off the bad luck.

“Sorry, amor,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her hair.

The heavy topic fades away as quickly as it came, leaving the rest of the journey completely peaceful. Just the hum of the engine, the salt air, and the quiet comfort of being together.

-----------

A/n : I know this chapter opens a lot of things that don’t get resolved, but I’m hoping to tie the biggest part of the camp plot up in the next chapter (that should be the last one about this camp).

As for when the next chapter is coming out, it's... unclear. Best case scenario, it comes out next Friday. If it doesn't, then it means I couldn't finish it in time before my vacation and it will be delayed by two weeks, so for August 21st.

Here.

In England.

With you.

Your smile only grows as you shift onto your other side to face her. Her eyes are still closed, but the corners of her mouth have already begun to curl into a sleepy smile. Dark hair lies tousled across the pillow, still messy from sleep.

“Bon dia, mi amor,” she murmurs, her voice low and wonderfully sleepy.

“Good morning, baby,” you whisper, shuffling a little closer until your noses are almost touching.

Her eyes flutter open, still hazy with sleep, and the moment they find yours, she smiles. You lift a hand, gently brushing a few stray strands of hair back from her face. Your fingertips linger against her cheek, soft and warm from the cocoon of the duvet.

She looks impossibly beautiful. Not because she’s Alexia Putellas. Just because she’s yours. She watches you for a moment before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. Gentle. Unhurried. Nothing more than the quiet comfort of simply being together.

One kiss turns into two, and soon enough her tongue brushes lightly along your bottom lip. You part your lips without hesitation, welcoming her in, her tongue melting against yours. The kiss deepens, still slow, still lazy, but no less intoxicating. It draws a quiet sound from the back of your throat, especially when her hand slips beneath your top, gliding over the warmth of your back before gently pulling you flush against her.

Your own hand leaves her cheek, settling at the nape of her neck to keep her close. Her lips wander from yours to your jaw, then lower to your neck, each kiss lingering just a little longer than the last. Her breath is warm against your skin as her fingertips drift from your back to your stomach, tracing lightly over your ribs.

“Alexia…” you murmur. There’s no real protest in it. If anything, your fingers tighten slightly against her.

“Mmm,” she hums against your skin. “You said no sex, amor. You never said no kissing.”

You can’t help smiling. Of course she’d remembered. It had been nothing more than a half-serious rule you’d thrown out before arriving in England, and somehow she’d treated it like an unbreakable promise.

A soft breath escapes you as she presses another lingering kiss beneath your ear, warmth unfurling low in your stomach.

“Yeah…” you manage, trying, and failing, to sound convincing. “But we both know what this kind of kissing leads to.”

She smiles against your skin. “Maybe we can break the curse.”

A laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Not unless someone breaks it for us.”

She pauses, lifting her head just enough to look at you. “Qué?”

You listen for a moment. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she whispers back.

“Tiny feet,” you say, your lips twitching. “Specifically size twelves.”

Alexia stills, clearly trying to work out what you’re talking about. Then, right on cue…

Three soft knocks sound at the door.

Alexia’s mouth twitches. “Oh.”

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose before lifting your head.

“Come in,” you call, just loud enough. The door creaks open, and Olive peeks around it. Somehow she looks even wilder than usual, her hair sticking out in every direction, her well-loved pink bunny tucked tightly beneath one arm. Your chest aches at the sight, and you can’t help smiling.

“Morning, sweetheart,” you murmur. “You okay?”

She nods, stepping into the room.

“I woke up early,” she says. “I was too excited.”

You smile. “Excited for what?”

She gives a little shrug, as though the answer is obvious. “Because you’re here.”

Your brows lift, the words catching you completely off guard. Beside you, Alexia glances between the two of you before smiling knowingly.

“Don’t cry, amor,” she teases.

You narrow your eyes at her, determined not to do exactly that. Instead, you glance back at Olive, patting the space between you and Alexia. “Come here.”

Olive’s sleepy smile immediately turns into a grin. Still clutching her bunny, she clambers onto the bed and crawls into the space between you and Alexia. Lying side by side, you both edge across the mattress to make room, though she somehow still ends up sitting half on your leg, her whole body angled towards Alexia.

Then…

She just stares.

Alexia blinks, her gaze flicking from Olive… to you… and back again. Olive doesn’t seem remotely bothered by the silence. She simply keeps looking at Alexia with wide, thoughtful eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek, already recognising the look. You’ve seen it countless times before. Olive’s mind is working overtime, quietly collecting questions before unleashing them all at once. Alexia glances at you again, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly, silently asking for help.

“…Am I being inspected?” she murmurs under her breath.

You snort. “A little.”

“Should I be worried?”

You only shrug, doing an admirable job of hiding your smile. Alexia lets out the smallest huff of laughter before looking back at Olive.

“What’s your bunny’s name?” she asks gently, deciding someone has to break the silence.

Olive looks down, absent-mindedly rubbing one of its floppy ears. “Pip.”

“Pip?” Alexia smiles. “I like that. That’s a very cute name.”

“Pip and Cat Culer are going to be best friends,” Olive says.

Alexia’s eyebrows lift. “They are?”

Olive nods with complete certainty.

“Cat Culer will love that,” Alexia says.

Olive falls into another thoughtful silence, her little face scrunching in concentration. You know exactly what’s coming.

Uh oh.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

A smile tugs at your lips. The Olive interrogation. Honestly, Alexia’s done well to make it two days before this happened.

Alexia thinks for a moment, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Mmm… red.”

“Do you like pancakes?”

“Sí.”

“Can you do a cartwheel?”

Alexia laughs. “I think so… although it’s been a while.”

“Auntie Y/n can’t.”

You let out an offended gasp. Alexia glances at you, unable to hide her smile.

“Do you like swimming?”

“Very much.”

“Have you ever seen a unicorn?”

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself laughing.

Alexia hums thoughtfully. “No… but I’ll keep looking. I’m sure they’re out there somewhere.”

Olive nods, apparently satisfied. Then, without missing a beat…

“Do you love Auntie Y/n?”

Alexia doesn’t hesitate. “Sí. Very much.”

You know she does. You never doubt it. Yet somehow, hearing her say it still makes your heart swell.

Olive tilts her head. “Are you going to stay with her forever?”

The room grows noticeably quieter. Heat creeps into your cheeks. Alexia’s eyes linger on Olive before lifting to yours. For a moment, neither of you says anything.

You hold her gaze, your heart beating just a little faster, because you know exactly what she’s thinking.

Then a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“I hope so,” she says softly. “I’d like that.”

Olive seems perfectly content with that answer. She studies Alexia for another moment before announcing,

“You’re prettier in real life.”

This time it’s Alexia’s turn to blush. She shifts slightly against the pillows. “Gracias.”

Olive smiles, before her expression softens. “Do you have to go home?”

Alexia’s smile fades ever so slightly as she glances towards you. You reach up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Olive’s ear.

“Yeah, sweetheart. We do.” You offer her a gentle smile. “But we’ll still video call all the time. And we’ll come back and visit again soon.”

Olive nods, though she still looks disappointed. “I’ll miss you.”

Alexia reaches across, gently taking her little hand. “We’ll miss you too.”

Olive doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she simply flops forwards, wrapping both arms around Alexia and burying her face against her chest. Alexia lets out a soft laugh of surprise before hugging her back just as tightly.

The sight has your chest tightening. Maybe Olive is simply doing what children do, falling in love with the newest person in their world. But that’s the beautiful thing about it.

She doesn’t care that Alexia is one of the greatest footballers on the planet. She doesn’t care that she’s famous. She doesn’t care about trophies or headlines.

She only wants to know her favourite colour…

…whether she’s ever seen a unicorn…

…and if she’ll come back.

You shuffle closer, wrapping an arm around both of them. A moment later, you feel Alexia’s hand find yours where it rests against Olive’s back. Neither of you says anything. You simply stay there for a little while longer.

———————————

As you stand on the touchline, you’re glad you borrowed Alexia’s hoodie. The morning air still carries a chill, lingering despite the sunshine beginning to creep across the pitch. If the cold bothers Alexia, she doesn’t show it. She stands beside you with her hands tucked into her pockets, one foot tapping absently against the grass as she watches the girls huddled around their coach. You can’t help smiling.

You have no idea what she’s thinking…

…but you have a feeling it’s something along the lines of I’d organise this differently.

Somehow, though, she keeps every thought to herself, simply watching with quiet patience. Maggie appears beside you carrying three takeaway coffees.

“It’s terrible,” she says apologetically as she hands one to you and then Alexia. “But it’ll get us through the morning.”

“Gracias,” Alexia says warmly, accepting it before her attention drifts straight back to the pitch.

Maggie catches your eye. You simply shrug.

The three of you had deliberately chosen to stand a little apart from the other families. Just in case. Alexia has her cap pulled low and a pair of sunglasses hiding her face, but you can never be too careful. The last thing either of you wants is for the girls’ match to become about her.

On the pitch, the team breaks from their huddle. Emily glances towards the touchline. You lift a hand in a wave. She gives a small, shy wave back before quickly turning her attention to the game. The referee blows the whistle. And they’re off.

———

The game is fairly uneventful. Well… by your standards, anyway.

Beside you, Alexia folds her arms, her entire focus fixed on the pitch. You know exactly what’s happening behind those sunglasses.

She’s analysing.

Every pass. Every run. Every decision.

Emily receives the ball. She takes one touch… then immediately passes it.

Alexia tilts her head. “She had space there,” she murmurs.

You nod, because that seems like the appropriate response. You’re fairly sure she isn’t expecting one anyway. She just needs somewhere for the thoughts to go.

“She’s looking for permission,” Alexia continues quietly.

You glance at her. “What do you mean?”

“She’s checking someone else before she decides.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “She’ll grow out of that.”

You smile. “Are you coaching, Ms Putellas?”

She turns to you, looking genuinely offended.

“I’m observing.”

You bite back a laugh. “Of course you are.”

———

A few minutes later Emily beats her defender before slowing down.

Alexia can’t help herself. “Go on…” she whispers.

Emily hesitates. Alexia doesn’t seem disappointed.

“She’s brave enough to try,” she says softly. “That’s the important part.”

You catch Maggie’s eye, the two of you exchanging an amused smile.

Not long after, Emily’s teammates collects the ball on the edge of the box.

Alexia visibly tenses. “Shoot…”

The girl takes another touch.

Alexia inhales. “Shoot.”

Another touch. Finally—

“¡Chuta!”

The girl shoots… straight at the goalkeeper.

Alexia winces. You nudge her with your elbow, trying and failing, not to laugh.

By the end of the first half, all restraint has disappeared. Emily tracks back brilliantly, winning the ball cleanly.

Alexia applauds immediately. “Sí, Emily! Well done!”

A couple of parents glance over. You briefly consider taking a few discreet steps away from her.

Maggie slowly turns towards you. “I thought we were trying to be subtle.”

You shrug. “We were.”

Alexia looks at you, unable to hide the grin spreading across her face. “Did you see that?”

You smile back. “I did.”

“She never doubts herself when she’s defending,” Alexia says, watching Emily jog back into position. “She just needs to believe she can do the same with the ball.”

Warmth blooms in your chest. Not just because you’re watching your niece play a game she loves…

…but because you’re watching the woman you love quietly believe in her too.

Without thinking, you slip your arm through Alexia’s. She leans into you automatically, her attention still fixed on the pitch. You can’t help smiling.

———

The half-time whistle sounds. The girls jog over to their coach, gathering in a small huddle while bottles of water are passed around. After a few words, they’re sent back towards the pitch.

As Emily starts jogging away, Alexia lifts a hand. “Emily.”

Emily glances over, looking around as if to check Alexia really means her, before jogging across.

You and Maggie exchange a look. This should be interesting.

By the time Emily reaches you, her cheeks are bright pink from the cold and the running.

Alexia crouches slightly so they’re eye level. “Can I tell you one thing?”

Emily nods.

“I’ve been watching you.”

Emily immediately looks worried.

Alexia notices at once. “No, no,” she says gently. “You’re playing really well.”

Emily visibly relaxes.

“You keep winning the ball back.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

Emily glances back towards the pitch, as though replaying the game in her head.

“But every time you win it…” Alexia continues, “…you pass it straight away.”

Emily nods. “I don’t want to lose it.”

“I know,” Alexia says with a smile, pointing towards the pitch. “Sometimes you have to trust yourself first.”

Emily watches where she’s pointing.

“If you see space… go.”

Emily thinks about it for a second before nodding. “…Okay.”

Alexia holds out her fist. “You’ve got this.”

Emily bumps it with her own.

“Vamos, chica.”

A grin spreads across Emily’s face before she turns and sprints back onto the pitch.

Towards the end of the match, Emily receives the ball again. This time…

She doesn’t pass immediately. She drives forward herself.

Alexia has long since forgotten about staying under the radar. “Yes, Emily! Keep going!”

You flinch slightly at the volume before your attention snaps back to the pitch. Emily slips past one defender. Takes another touch. Then threads a perfectly weighted pass through to her teammate.

One touch. Shot. Goal.

The three of you erupt together.

“Vamos!”

“Yes, Emily!”

“Woooo!”

Without thinking, Alexia throws her arms around both you and Maggie. You laugh as she practically squashes you into a group hug while the rest of the parents cheer around you.

———

By the time the final whistle blows, Emily is already running towards you, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

Alexia lifts her hand and Emily slaps it enthusiastically.

“Did you see my pass?” she asks, practically bouncing where she stands.

“Sí,” Alexia says, squeezing Emily’s shoulder. “You trusted yourself.”

Alexia nods towards the pitch. “That’s why it worked.”

Emily’s smile grows even wider. “Thank you for helping.”

Alexia smiles, shaking her head. “That was all you.”

“You were amazing, kiddo,” you say, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We’re so proud of you.”

“We didn’t embarrass you, did we?” Maggie asks with a grin.

Emily laughs. “Only a little.”

“I’ll take that,” you say with a proud shrug.

Emily slips her hand into Alexia’s as you all begin walking back towards the car park. Beside you, Alexia catches your eye. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. The quiet smile on her face tells you everything.

———————————

You’re sat at the kitchen table, chin resting in your hand as you watch the shenanigans unfold, quite grateful to be on this side of the counter. Alexia is surrounded by the kids, bowls and ingredients scattered across the worktop.

“Okay,” she says, looking between them. “Who wants to crack the egg?”

“Me!” Olive’s hand shoots into the air.

Emily glances at her, unconvinced.

“No offence, Olive, but you’re terrible at cracking eggs.”

“I’m not!”

Alexia chuckles, placing the egg carefully into Olive’s hand.

“Let’s give it a go.”

Olive taps it against the side of the bowl.

A piece of shell drops straight into the mixture.

“Oh.”

“That’s okay,” Alexia says, smiling. “We can pick it out.”

She does just that before passing the bowl to Nate, who’s standing proudly on a chair beside her.

“Think you can be my little stirrer?”

“Yes,” he says quietly, though the grin spreading across his face says everything.

The wooden spoon disappears into the mixture with far more enthusiasm than precision, sending a little puff of flour drifting across the worktop.

You watch the scene unfold, your heart blooming impossibly. It’s all so… normal.

Alexia making sure everyone has a job. Emily carefully reading each step. Olive trying to sneak extra chocolate chips. Nate concentrating so hard on stirring that his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth.

She somehow makes each of them feel like the most important helper in the kitchen. Just when you think you couldn’t possibly love her any more.

“Olive,” Alexia says, turning to her, “your very important job is the chocolate chips.”

Olive’s eyes light up. “Can I taste them?”

Alexia smiles. “One.”

Olive immediately puts three in her mouth. Alexia very pointedly looks the other way.

Emily picks up the recipe, her tongue poking out in concentration.

“It says we have to bake them for twenty minutes.”

“Perfect,” Alexia says. “Let’s spoon them onto the tray.”

Together, the four of them carefully divide the mixture, though ‘carefully’ is perhaps generous when Nate proudly deposits one enormous blob in the middle. You catch Olive sneaking another handful of chocolate chips. When she notices you watching, she dissolves into giggles.

You simply wink.

Alexia slides the tray into the oven while Emily proudly presses the timer.

“When will they be ready?” Olive asks immediately.

“In twenty minutes,” Alexia replies.

Olive frowns. “How long’s twenty minutes?”

Alexia pauses. “Erm…”

You can’t help laughing quietly.

“Soon,” you say.

Alexia looks over at you, relief flashing across her face before it melts into an amused smile. Something soft settles between you. No words. Just the quiet understanding that this, sticky fingers, chocolate chips scattered across the counter, children talking over one another, is exactly the sort of ordinary moment neither of you wants to end.

———————————

You wander upstairs with a basket of laundry Maggie had all but guilt-tripped you into helping with. As you pass the girls’ room, you spot Emily sitting at her desk, a workbook open in front of her.

You poke your head around the door. “Don’t tell me you’re doing homework on a Sunday.”

Emily looks over with a smile. “I didn’t do it on Friday, so I have to do it now.”

You step into the room, eyebrows lifting. “Have you become a rebel who leaves everything until the last minute?”

She giggles, shaking her head. “No. I was just too excited that you and Alexia were coming. I forgot.”

Your heart softens a little.

“Well… seeing as that’s technically my fault,” you say, setting the laundry basket down on the bed, “do you want some help?”

Emily gives you a look.

“It’s maths.”

You immediately pull a face.

“Ooh… I might’ve offered too quickly.”

She laughs. “Too late.”

With a dramatic sigh, you pull up the chair beside her. “Alright then. Show me what we’ve got.”

Emily turns the workbook around. “It’s percentages.”

You spend the next few minutes working through the questions together. Mostly, you just ask the right questions until Emily figures the answers out herself, only stepping in whenever she gets stuck.

By the last page, she’s barely looking at you for help anymore.

You lean back with a satisfied smile. “I’ve decided I’m taking full credit for this.”

Emily laughs. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Excuse me? I provided expert supervision.”

“You just kept telling me to read the question properly.”

You point at her. “Which, as it turns out, was excellent advice.”

Emily smiles, closing her workbook with a satisfied little thud. The room falls comfortably quiet for a moment, the only sound the faint chatter drifting upstairs from the rest of the house.

You lean back in your chair, smiling at her. “Have you had a nice weekend so far?”

Emily nods, absent-mindedly twirling her pen between her fingers.

“Yeah. It’s been really fun,” she says, looking up at you. “Thanks for coming to my game.”

You smile. “Of course. You were brilliant. Although…” You lower your voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I was starting to get a little embarrassed by Alexia’s enthusiasm.”

Emily giggles. “She was really loud.”

“She was,” you agree. “I think half the parents know her as ‘Emily’s biggest fan’ now.”

Emily laughs before her smile softens. “I guess it has been a little weird.”

You tilt your head. “Weird?”

She nods. “I still can’t believe she’s actually in our house.”

A laugh escapes you.

“I know,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t believe she’s been drinking squash and watching Gabby’s Dollhouse.”

Emily bursts into laughter. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No,” you agree. “It really doesn’t.”

The two of you sit there smiling for a moment, quietly sharing the same disbelief. Emily had grown up watching Alexia lift trophies on television. And now…

She was probably downstairs, happily debating Custard Creams versus Bourbons with Ross as though she’d been part of the family forever.

Life really was strange sometimes.

“It’s okay though, isn’t it?” you ask after a moment, a flicker of uncertainty creeping into your voice. “You don’t mind?”

Emily looks at you, her expression softening as she shakes her head. “I don’t mind. I still think it’s amazing.”

A smile tugs at her lips. “And… it’s been really nice getting to know her.”

“Yeah?”

Emily nods. “She’s different to what I thought.”

“In a good way?”

“In a good way,” she says without hesitation.

You smile. “Football’s a huge part of who she is, but it’s not all of her. Trust me, she’s just as weird as the rest of us.”

Emily laughs.

You narrow your eyes at her teasingly. “You’re going to tell her I said that, aren’t you?”

She grins. “Definitely.”

You shake your head in defeat. Emily smiles at you for a second before speaking again.

“It’s nice to see you happy.”

The words catch you completely off guard. Sometimes you forget Emily isn’t little anymore. She notices things now, pays attention, sees more than you realise.

And somehow…

That makes you both proud and a little sad. She’s growing up while you’re hundreds of miles away.

You smile gently. “I am happy,” you say, the words coming easily. “Really happy.”

Emily studies your face. “Were you happy before you moved to Spain?”

The question is innocent. But something about it makes your chest tighten. You wonder if, somewhere in that little head of hers, she’s been wondering whether leaving meant you’d been unhappy here.

You reach over, squeezing her hand gently.

“Of course I was,” you say, smiling softly. “I didn’t move because I wanted to leave you all behind.”

Your eyes drift around her room, taking in the little pieces of her life scattered around it. Books on the shelf, toys scattered in the corner, her framed Alexia shirt on the wall. You smile without thinking.

“You, Olive, Nate… you’ve always been such an important part of my life. You always will be.”

Emily’s shoulders relax slightly.

“Spain just gave me something new. Something I didn’t know I needed.” A smile tugs at your lips. “And it gave me Alexia.”

Emily smiles. “I think she makes you smile more.”

You can’t help laughing. “She probably does.”

“She looks at you like you’re really special.”

Warmth blooms in your chest as you smile at her. Emily smiles back, before nudging her workbook back towards you. “So… are we doing question four then?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “I knew this was a trap.”

She grins. “You’re helping.”

You smile. “Good. I was hoping I still had some useful skills left.”

Emily laughs. “You do.”

“I’ll take that,” you say, nudging her gently. “High praise.”

And together, you turn the page.

———————————

As you wander downstairs, you can hear Olive’s excited giggles drifting in from the garden as she plays with Ross. The sound makes you smile.

When you reach the kitchen doorway, you stop, lingering just out of sight. Alexia is sitting at the kitchen table with Nate, a colouring book spread between them.

Neither of them says a word. They’re completely absorbed in what they’re doing.

You smile to yourself. That’s the thing about Nate. Silence isn’t awkward to him. And Alexia seems to understand that instinctively. She isn’t trying to entertain him or fill the quiet with conversation. She isn’t asking questions or searching for ways to connect. She’s simply sitting beside him, meeting him exactly where he is.

And somehow…

That’s enough.

Maggie appears beside you, following your gaze.

“They’ve been like that for ages,” she murmurs.

Your smile widens. “They’re so cute.”

Maggie hums thoughtfully, still watching them.

“Marry her.”

You snap your head round so quickly you nearly give yourself whiplash.

“Maggie,” you hiss.

She blinks innocently. “What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

You stare at her.

She shrugs. “If you don’t, I will.”

A laugh escapes you. “Pretty sure they call that bigamy.”

“It’s fine,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll divorce Ross first.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “How considerate.”

“I’m serious, though,” she murmurs, bumping your shoulder.

You look at her before your smile softens. “We haven’t even talked about any of that yet.”

“I know,” Maggie says, looking back towards the kitchen. “But she’s a keeper.”

You follow her gaze. Nate points silently at the blue crayon in Alexia’s hand. Without hesitation, she swaps it for the green one he’s holding instead. He nods once, perfectly satisfied, before carrying on colouring. Alexia smiles to herself and does the same.

Maggie lets out a quiet breath. “Do you know how many conversations I’ve had with people about Nate?”

You glance at her.

“Teachers. Nursery staff. Other parents.” She smiles sadly. “Explaining that he just needs a bit of time. A bit of space. That he connects differently.”

Her eyes drift back to Alexia. “And she walks in… and somehow, she just gets it.”

You feel something tighten in your chest.

“She hasn’t tried to change him, hasn’t pushed him to be anything other than himself,” Maggie says, smiling softly. “She’s just accepted him exactly as he is.”

The words settle warmly inside you.

“You’ve spent months telling me how wonderful she is,” Maggie continues. “And I’ve believed you every time.” She smiles fondly, glancing back towards the kitchen before looking at you again. “But seeing it… seeing her with my kids, seeing the way she looks at you…” Her voice softens. “It means everything.”

She reaches over, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “I was joking about the marriage part,” she adds with a small smile, “but not about the rest. She’s a keeper.” She holds your gaze for a moment. “Don’t let anyone, including yourself, ever convince you otherwise.”

She gives your arm one last squeeze before disappearing back into the living room. Your gaze drifts back to Alexia. Maggie has always been right about the important things. You’d never needed convincing that Alexia was one of them, but hearing her say it anyway settles something quietly inside your chest.

———— Alexia———

The barbecue is in full swing. Ross stands over the grill with the concentration of a man defusing a bomb while Alexia quietly rescues another burger before it has the chance to become charcoal.

She doesn’t mind. In fact…

She’s rather enjoying herself.

The easy rhythm of it all. People drifting between the kitchen and the garden. The smell of food on the barbecue. The quiet chatter that fills the warm evening air. Her gaze wanders across the garden.

Y/n is crouched beside Nate, helping him dip the bubble wand back into the bottle after he’d enthusiastically emptied half the solution onto the grass.

“Slowly,” she laughs. “Otherwise there won’t be any bubbles left.”

Nate nods with complete seriousness before immediately ignoring the advice. A stream of tiny bubbles floats into the air.

Olive squeals. “I’m going to get them!”

She charges across the lawn, Pip the bunny tucked firmly under one arm, swiping wildly at the bubbles with her free hand as though she’s on the verge of catching every single one.

“They’re getting away!”

“They’re supposed to,” Y/n calls between laughs.

“No they’re not!”

Alexia can’t help smiling.

Across the garden, Emily is patiently juggling a football.

One touch. Two. Three.

She loses control on the fourth and jogs after it without a hint of frustration before starting again.

Alexia watches for a moment. The touches are careful. Measured.

Just like they were this morning. Emily notices her looking and immediately grins.

“Want a go?”

Alexia laughs. “Are you sure?”

Emily nods enthusiastically before flicking the ball towards her.

Alexia cushions it effortlessly with her thigh before lifting it back into the air.

One touch. Two. Three.

Within seconds the ball seems glued to her feet.

Emily’s mouth falls open.

“That’s not fair.”

Alexia laughs, letting the ball drop before rolling it gently back.

“I’ve had a little more practice.”

Emily stops it with a smile. “Again.”

After a few more passes, Alexia stops the ball beneath her foot.

“Hey…”

Emily looks up.

“I just wanted to say thank you for letting me come to your game today.”

Emily blushes.

“I really enjoyed it,” Alexia adds warmly.

“I was a bit nervous.”

“You were?”

Emily nods, keeping her eyes on the ball. “I thought I’d mess up because you were watching.”

Alexia cushions another pass, letting the ball settle before sending it back.

“I thought you played brilliantly.”

Emily traps the ball. “But I nearly lost it.”

Alexia cushions the ball with the inside of her foot before knocking it gently back.

“Do you remember what happened next?”

Emily traps it against her trainer, thinking for a moment.

“…I won it back.”

“You did.” Alexia smiles as Emily sends it back. “That’s what I noticed. You kept trying.”

Emily frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone loses the ball.” Alexia flicks it back with one touch. “What matters is what you do afterwards.”

Emily nods, returning another pass before asking quietly,

“Do you ever get nervous?”

Alexia lets out a soft laugh. “Every single game.”

Emily misses her next touch, stopping the ball with her foot.

“Really? I thought footballers stopped getting nervous.”

“I wish.” Alexia grins. “We just learn how to play with it.”

She waits until Emily rolls the ball back before continuing.

“Being nervous isn’t a bad thing. It means you care.” Alexia taps the ball gently back towards her. “And honestly? I think that’s one of the things that will make you a good player.”

Emily looks surprised. “Really?”

Alexia smiles. “Really. You notice things. You think about your decisions. You don’t just run around hoping something works, you actually want to understand the game.”

She sends the ball back with a gentle pass.

“Today, you cared so much about making the right decision that sometimes you forgot to trust yourself.”

Emily nods slowly. “I know.”

“That’ll change.” Alexia smiles. “Because you’re already a good footballer. The confidence just has to catch up.”

Emily glances back up. “Do you think it will?”

“It will.” Alexia says with a certainty that makes Emily smile. “Confidence isn’t something you wake up with one morning. You build it. One touch. One decision. One game at a time.”

Emily’s next pass is firmer.

“One game,” she repeats with a smile.

“Exactly.”

They fall into an easy rhythm, the ball moving quietly between them until Emily breaks the silence.

“…Will you come and watch me play again sometime?”

Alexia doesn’t hesitate.

“I’d love to.”

Emily’s smile is small, but somehow brighter than anything else in the garden.

Y/n passes with the bowl of snacks, pausing when she sees them still passing the ball between them. She smiles before either of them notices. There’s something about seeing Alexia like this, relaxed, laughing, completely at ease, that makes something warm settle in her chest.

Eventually, Alexia looks up and catches her watching. A small, playful smile appears.

“What?” Y/n asks.

“Nothing.”

“That’s suspicious.”

Emily giggles.

Alexia rolls the ball towards her. “Come here.”

Y/n looks down at it. “Why?”

“I’m going to teach you something.”

Her eyes narrow. “That sounds dangerous.”

Emily laughs. “Kick-ups.”

Y/n looks between them.

“What are kick-ups?”

The silence that follows is immediate.

Emily stares at her.

Alexia blinks. “You’re joking.”

“No?”

Alexia presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.

Emily, on the other hand, can’t keep her laugh in. “You’ve been with Alexia for months.”

“Yes,” Y/n says, feigning offence. “I’ve learnt plenty. We just haven’t reached the chapter on kick-ups yet.”

Emily bursts out laughing.

“Okay,” Alexia says, stepping closer. “Lift it with your foot and keep it in the air.”

She demonstrates easily, the ball bouncing from foot to foot.

Y/n watches.

“That looks unnecessarily difficult.”

“It’s not.”

“You say that because you’re good at it.”

Alexia smiles. “Exactly.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, as Alexia picks up the ball.

“You’re not allowed to laugh,” Y/n warns, pointing between them.

Emily immediately presses her lips together.

“I’m not laughing.”

“You’re already smiling.”

Alexia bites back her own smile, holding the ball out to her. “Okay. Just start with one.”

“One?”

“One.”

Y/n nods seriously, taking the ball.

She drops it onto her foot.

The ball immediately bounces off at completely the wrong angle, rolling across the grass.

Silence.

Emily looks down, very obviously trying not to laugh.

Alexia turns her head, covering her mouth for a second.

Y/n narrows her eyes.

“I saw that.”

“I didn’t laugh,” Alexia says quickly.

“You were about to.”

“Maybe a little.”

Y/n walks over to retrieve the ball, shaking her head.

“Okay. Clearly that was a practice attempt.”

Emily’s smile widens.

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

She takes the ball again, looking determined.

“Let me try again.”

Alexia’s expression softens at the familiar stubbornness.

“Okay.”

This time Y/n drops the ball more carefully.

One touch.

The ball pops back up.

Two.

Three.

It drops.

She freezes.

“Did you see that?”

Emily grins.

“You did three!”

“I did three!”

Y/n turns to Alexia, eyes sparkling.

“You saw that, right?”

Alexia nods, smiling so warmly it makes Y/n’s grin grow even wider.

“I saw.”

Before she can say anything else, Y/n wraps her arms around her in a quick, excited hug.

Alexia catches her easily, laughing as she hugs her back.

“I knew you could do it.”

“I’m basically a footballer now.”

Emily snorts with laughter.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“No?” Y/n asks, pulling back to look between them. “Three kick-ups doesn’t get me a contract?”

Alexia shakes her head, still smiling.

“Afraid not, amor.”

Y/n shrugs. “Maybe next time.”

Alexia watches her for a moment, warmth blooming in her chest.

It isn’t about the number. It’s the fact that she’d missed the first attempt, laughed, and asked to try again. The very same thing she’d been telling Emily only minutes earlier.

Confidence isn’t something you wake up with. You build it.

One touch.

One decision.

One try at a time.

Emily rolls the ball gently towards Alexia.

This time, when Alexia passes it back, Emily meets it without hesitation.

Alexia can’t help smiling.

She’s still the same little girl who’d been nervous that morning.

But she’s just a little more confident than she was an hour ago.

———————————

One by one, everyone else has drifted back inside, leaving the garden to the three of them. Alexia watches Y/n and Emily bent over the telescope together, their quiet conversation carrying across the evening air. A smile tugs at her lips before she pushes herself up from the garden chair, stretching her arms overhead.

“Do either of you want anything from inside?”

They both look over before shaking their heads.

“No thanks, baby,” Y/n replies.

Alexia smiles before slipping through the patio doors into the kitchen, letting them close quietly behind her. Maggie is already sitting at the table, pouring herself a glass of sangria.

She looks up as Alexia walks in, a sheepish smile crossing her face.

“I realise I’m not painting a very good picture of myself,” she says, gesturing towards the bottle. “I promise I normally only have one glass a week.”

She pauses.

“…Maybe two.”

Alexia laughs softly.

“I believe you.”

Maggie smiles.

“Want one?”

She gestures towards the chair beside her. Alexia nods without hesitation, taking the seat beside her. Maggie pours a second glass before sliding it across the table.

“Gracias,” Alexia murmurs.

She takes a sip, her gaze drifting back out into the garden. Y/n is kneeling beside Emily, pointing something out in the night sky through the telescope. Emily’s smile grows wider with every word.

A warmth settles in Alexia’s chest. It strikes her then just how comfortable she’s felt all weekend. Sitting here with Maggie should have been intimidating. Not because she’s Y/n’s sister. But because she’s the person who knows Y/n better than anyone else. She knew the little girl who climbed trees and scraped her knees.

The teenager. The woman before Spain. Before Alexia.

For a long time, she’d worried that would make her feel like an outsider.

Instead…

Maggie had simply made room for her.

No tests. No judgement. No sense that she had to earn her place.

She’d simply welcomed Alexia into a part of Y/n’s life she’d once thought she’d only ever hear about.

And somehow…

She’d made it feel like she’d belonged there all along.

“They’ve always been like this,” Maggie murmurs, watching Y/n and Emily through the patio doors, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “Attached at the hip.”

Alexia follows her gaze, smiling to herself.

“I can believe that.”

Maggie lets out a quiet laugh.

“Y/n always found a way to share whatever she was interested in with Emily. One month it’d be books about trees, the next it’d be toys made from recycled plastic. I got used to the environmental lectures after a while.”

Alexia laughs softly.

“I still get those.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Maggie smiles into her glass. “But it was never really about the books or the toys. It was about how they made Emily feel. Y/n has always had this way of making people feel important. Seen. Like they matter.”

Alexia’s smile softens.

“She still does.”

Maggie nods.

“She never missed an opportunity to be there for them. Weekends, evenings after work… she’d make the journey from London without thinking. Sometimes I look back and realise… she never had to. Plenty of families drift apart as they get older.”

She watches Y/n laugh at something Emily says.

“She never let that happen. She used to joke that she was the bonus member of our little family.” Maggie shakes her head with a smile. “She wasn’t the bonus member. She was always part of it.”

Her eyes linger on the garden.

“I think that’s why I see little pieces of her in all three of them.” She smiles to herself. “Emily has her gentleness. Olive has that same passion for anything she throws herself into. And Nate…” She lets out a quiet laugh. “He’s inherited her quiet curiosity.”

She glances at Alexia.

“Maybe that’s why they adore her so much. They see a little bit of themselves in her too.”

Alexia sits quietly for a moment before speaking.

“I love hearing her talk about all of you. She tells me stories all the time. About the kids… about you.”

Maggie looks across at her, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“All good, I hope?”

“Always,” Alexia says with a quiet chuckle. “The way she talks about you… I’ll admit, I was a little nervous meeting you.”

“You were?”

“I never told her.” Alexia smiles sheepishly. “But when someone spends months telling you how wonderful their sister is, it’s hard not to feel a little intimidated.”

Maggie’s smile softens.

“That means more than you probably realise.”

She looks down at her glass for a moment before adding quietly,

“She’s always been the most important person in my life.”

Alexia’s smile softens. She doesn’t doubt it for a second. She imagines a lifetime of shared memories, childhood adventures, teenage arguments, celebrations, heartbreaks, quiet moments only sisters ever truly understand. An entire history that existed long before she came along.

“She adores you, Maggie,” Alexia murmurs.

The words settle between them. After a moment, Maggie nods, almost to herself.

“I adore her too.”

Her gaze drifts back to the garden.

“Sometimes I look at her…” she says quietly, “…and I still see the little girl who’d spend hours sitting in the garden with a plant book balanced on her knees. She’d try to identify every flower, every butterfly that landed nearby.” A smile tugs at her lips. “And heaven help you if she caught you putting the wrong thing in the recycling.”

Alexia laughs.

“She still corrects me.”

“I’d be disappointed if she didn’t.”

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence. When Maggie speaks again, her voice is quieter.

“She was just a little girl. She didn’t know any different.”

Her fingers trace the rim of her glass.

“It wasn’t always easy for her. People didn’t really understand her… or make much effort to. She wanted friends, she just struggled to connect with people the way everyone expected her to.”

Alexia listens without interrupting.

“So she retreated into the things that made sense. Nature. Animals. Books. They never judged her.”

A sad smile crosses Maggie’s face.

“I think that’s when I became protective of her. I wanted to be the person who always made the effort. The person she knew she could rely on.”

She hesitates.

“Our parents loved her. They really did.”

A small pause.

“But they didn’t always understand her.”

Alexia nods gently.

“And when you don’t understand someone…” Maggie says quietly, “…frustration has a habit of growing on both sides.”

Silence settles over the kitchen.

Alexia feels her chest tighten. She can’t stop picturing that little girl Maggie is describing, quiet, thoughtful, trying so hard to make sense of a world that didn’t always seem to make sense of her. A part of her aches with the impossible wish that she’d known her then, that she’d been another person in Y/n’s corner.

She knows Y/n doesn’t need protecting now. But the instinct settles quietly in her chest all the same.

Hearing these stories feels like being trusted with something precious. They’re pieces of Y/n’s life she’ll never get to witness herself.

And somehow…

That only makes her love her more.

Maggie’s smile softens.

“When she told me about the job in Barcelona… it caught me completely off guard.”

She lets out a quiet breath, turning her glass slowly between her hands.

“But I could tell how much she wanted it. Every time she talked about it, her eyes lit up.” She smiles sadly. “She was just terrified.”

Alexia nods. “She still gets scared when something really matters to her.”

Maggie looks at her, a small smile appearing. “Exactly.”

She falls quiet for a moment before continuing.

“Telling her to go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

Alexia’s expression softens. Every instinct must have been telling Maggie to keep her close, and instead she had to find the strength to let her go.

“I wanted to tell her to stay. To come home where everything was familiar.” Maggie gives a small shake of her head. “But I knew if I did, she’d always wonder what might have been.”

Her eyes drift towards the garden.

“So I told her to be brave… even though I wasn’t.”

The words settle heavily between them.

“I was so proud of her,” Maggie says quietly. “I still am. But she’s my little sister.”

She smiles to herself.

“I don’t think that part ever changes.”

She looks across at Alexia, her smile small and fragile, as though she’s placing something deeply personal into Alexia’s hands.

“You have a younger sister, right?” Maggie asks softly. “So you know. No matter how old they get, they’re still your little sister.”

Alexia nods immediately.

“I know.”

She thinks of Alba, the instinct to protect her, to make sure she’s safe, to celebrate every success and soften every disappointment.

“I understand.”

Maggie smiles gratefully.

“The first few months were hard.” She traces a finger around the rim of her glass. “A new country. A language she didn’t speak. Running a company. She was convinced she’d get something wrong.”

Alexia lets out a quiet laugh. “She still apologises before she’s even done anything.”

“She always has.”

The two women share a knowing smile.

“She hardly went anywhere outside of work.” Maggie sighs. “Every instinct I had was telling me to tell her to come home.”

The words hang between them. Alexia can hear how much Maggie still wonders if she’d made the right choice.

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” She smiles. “I told her to keep going. Because underneath all the fear… she still wanted to be there.”

A comfortable silence settles between them.

“Maria helped,” Maggie says eventually, her smile returning. “I honestly don’t think she’d have left the apartment if it wasn’t for her.”

Alexia laughs.

“Maria has that effect on people.”

Maggie nods. “I’m very grateful Y/n found her.”

“So am I.”

Maggie tilts her head.

“And then she found you.”

Alexia smiles into her glass.

“You helped too, you know,” Maggie says quietly.

Alexia looks up.

“I’m not saying she needed someone else to make her happy.”

She pauses.

“But after she met you… something changed.”

Alexia listens without interrupting.

“Work stopped being the only thing that made her smile.”

A fond smile spreads across Maggie’s face.

“She started making plans. Talking about weekends instead of deadlines. She laughed more.”

She meets Alexia’s gaze.

“I got my sister back.”

Alexia feels something tighten painfully in her chest.

“There were people before you,” Maggie continues gently. “People who liked the easy parts of her.”

She gives a small shrug.

“Very few stayed long enough to understand the rest.”

Alexia frowns.

“There’s nothing to understand.”

Maggie’s smile softens.

“I know.”

She reaches for her glass again.

“That’s how I knew you were different.”

Alexia lowers her gaze, turning her glass slowly between her hands.

“I think you played a part in that too,” Alexia says. “I know you encouraged her to trust me.”

She smiles, meeting Maggie’s gaze again.

“I’ve always wanted to thank you for that.”

Maggie lets out a quiet laugh.

“That was a strange conversation,” she nods towards the table. “We were sat right here.”

Alexia looks up, smiling.

“One minute she was telling me about this lovely woman she’d met…” Maggie shakes her head fondly. “The next, she’d discovered that same lovely woman happened to be one of the most famous footballers in the world.”

Alexia winces.

“I didn’t really see the problem,” Maggie admits. “Y/n certainly did.”

They both smile.

“I could see how happy you made her, though.” Maggie’s smile softens. “So I told her not to let fear take that away.”

She shrugs.

“Yes, you kept something from her. But life isn’t always that simple. I just wanted her to listen to what her heart was already telling her.”

Alexia’s smile fades into something quieter. “It’s ’m so grateful she did.”

She hesitates, looking down at her glass. “I’ll always wish I’d handled that differently.”

Maggie shrugs, smiling softly.

“You did the best you could.”

She holds Alexia’s gaze.

“And so did she.”

Silence settles between them. Then Maggie smiles.

“I see the way she looks at you. And I see the way you look back.”

Her voice is gentle now.

“That’s all I ever wanted for her.”

Alexia feels her eyes sting unexpectedly. Being thanked for loving Y/n feels strange. Loving her has never been difficult. It has always felt as natural as breathing.

“I love her more than anything,” she says quietly.

“I know,” Maggie says, smiling. “And that lets me sleep a little easier.”

She glances through the patio doors towards the garden.

“She’s always going to be my little sister.”

A small laugh escapes her.

“I’ll probably still think she needs someone to hold her hand when she’s eighty.”

Alexia smiles.

“But knowing she has people in Spain…”

She pauses, meeting Alexia’s gaze again.

“You. Maria. Your family.”

She smiles.

“It means I don’t have to worry quite so much anymore.”

Her voice catches.

“I know she doesn’t need looking after.”

Another pause.

“But it’s comforting to know she has someone who wants to.”

Alexia reaches across the table, resting a hand gently over Maggie’s.

“Thank you.”

Maggie looks up.

“For trusting me with someone so important to you,” Alexia adds gently.

Her voice is steady as she looks at Maggie.

“I can’t promise life will always be easy.”

A tiny smile appears.

“But I can promise she’ll never have to question whether she’s loved.”

Maggie’s eyes glisten, before she laughs softly, embarrassed, brushing quickly beneath them.

“Oh dear…”

Alexia smiles. “Don’t worry.”

Alexia hesitates before speaking again.

“Thank you… for making me feel like part of the family.”

Maggie smiles, almost as though she’s surprised Alexia needed to hear it.

“You already are.”

Alexia lets the words sink in before a smile slowly tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“I must admit, I was half expecting the scary older sister speech.”

Maggie’s eyebrows lift.

“The one where you threaten to make my life miserable if I ever hurt her.”

Maggie laughs.

“I assumed that part went without saying.”

Alexia chuckles. “I suspected as much.”

“And don’t forget…” Maggie continues, pointing towards the garden.

“You’ve got three tiny bodyguards to answer to as well.”

Alexia laughs.

“I think Nate would be the scariest.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

The two of them laugh together. The silence that follows is easy. Comfortable.

Maggie stands, giving Alexia’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“It’s been a real pleasure getting to know you.”

Alexia glances up.

“You as well.”

Maggie smiles.

“I’m really glad she found you.”

The words catch Alexia off guard. Before she can think of a reply, Maggie disappears back into the living room. Alexia remains where she is for a moment, her gaze settling on Y/n.

Laughing with Emily. Completely unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

Maggie had thanked her for loving Y/n.

But sitting here now…

Alexia can’t help thinking she’s the lucky one.

Because somehow…

She’d found Y/n.

And she’d spend the rest of her life making sure Y/n never doubted how deeply she was loved.

———————————

Everyone is back in the living room, a film playing softly in the background. Alexia isn’t entirely sure which one. She’s been watching it, of course, but she’s been enjoying simply being here even more.

Y/n had worried this part of the weekend would be boring for her. That sitting around in the evening, doing very little, might feel awkward.

Instead…

Alexia thinks it might have been her favourite part.

She’s always valued family. She’s always known Y/n did too. But seeing them all together, comfortable, noisy, entirely themselves, makes something tighten warmly in her chest.

Y/n is curled against one side of her, Olive tucked against the other, Alexia’s arms wrapped around them both.

Olive has quietly sung along to almost every song in the film, Pip tucked beneath one arm, Cat Culer under the other.

Across the room, Emily sits on the floor with Nate, the two of them only half watching the film as they build increasingly questionable Lego towers.

Eventually, the credits begin to roll.

Maggie stretches before clapping her hands together.

“Right, kiddos. Time for bed.”

An immediate groan escapes Olive as she gets to her feet.

“But Nate’s still awake. He always goes to bed first.”

“Well,” Maggie says, smiling, “tonight you’re all going upstairs together. Isn’t that exciting?”

Olive folds her arms so tightly they almost disappear, her bottom lip pushing out in protest. She lets out an exaggerated huff, shifting from one foot to the other as though she’s seriously considering arguing her case.

“Don’t give me that look, missus,” Maggie says knowing but gentle. “You’re the one who insisted on watching the whole film.”

Olive sighs, loudly enough to make sure everyone hears it, before glancing between you and Alexia, clearly searching for someone willing to take her side.

“…I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

“It’s only goodnight, sweetheart,” Y/n reminds her gently. “The goodbyes are tomorrow. We’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Olive pulls a face that says she isn’t entirely convinced.

“Come on,” Maggie says softly. “You’ve had a big weekend. School tomorrow, remember?”

Olive’s brave expression wobbles. Without another word, she turns and throws herself into Alexia’s arms. Alexia hugs her tightly.

“Sleep well, pequeña,” she murmurs, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Olive nods before shuffling across to hug Y/n just as tightly.

Ross stands, holding out his hand.

“Come on, little one.”

Reluctantly, Olive takes it, letting him lead her towards the door.

“Your turn, Nate,” Maggie says.

Nate looks up from the Lego in front of him. He glances at the tower. Then at Alexia.

Slowly, he stands and pads across the room.

He opens his little hand. Inside sits a tiny Lego spaceman.

“This is for you,” he says quietly.

Alexia blinks.

“…For me?”

He nods.

“He likes space too.”

Alexia smiles.

“He can fly on the plane with you.”

She looks down at the tiny figure resting in her palm.

“And… when you come back…”

He shrugs, as though it should be obvious.

“…he can come back to the tower.”

For a moment, Alexia can’t find any words.

It’s not the Lego figure that catches her.

It’s the certainty in his voice.

When you come back.

Not if.

When.

Her throat tightens.

Beside her, Y/n nudges her gently.

“Don’t cry, amor,” she whispers, echoing Alexia’s teasing from that morning.

Alexia laughs through the emotion, shaking her head.

Before she can say anything else, Nate steps forward and wraps his little arms around her.

The first hug he’s given her all weekend.

Alexia closes her eyes for a second, hugging him back just as gently.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

When he pulls away, Maggie scoops him into her arms.

Emily is next. She grins before opening both arms dramatically.

“Group hug.”

Alexia laughs as all three of them squeeze together.

“Night, Ems,” Y/n says.

Emily smiles.

“Night. See you in the morning.”

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Alexia promises.

Emily nods, satisfied, before following Maggie upstairs.

The house grows quieter with every step. Alexia looks down at the little spaceman still resting in her hand. A smile finds its way onto her face. Somehow, over the course of one weekend…

This already feels a little like home.

————— You ——————

You fold your clothes absentmindedly, placing each item into the suitcase with more care than it really needs. Maybe it’s a way of slowing everything down, because every neatly folded shirt, every zipped compartment, brings you one step closer to leaving.

Home.

For a long time, that word had only ever meant England. This was home. The place you always came back to. But somewhere along the way, without you even noticing, Barcelona had become home too.

The realisation still makes your chest tighten with something that sits somewhere between sadness and acceptance.

Saying goodbye never gets any easier. But going back to Barcelona does. Because you’re not going back alone anymore.

The thought slips away as warm arms slide around your waist.

You startle for only a heartbeat before melting back against Alexia, recognising her touch instantly. She pulls you close, closer than usual. Her arms tighten around you with quiet certainty, as though she’s trying to tell you something she doesn’t quite have the words for. Like she’s quietly reassuring herself that your really here. Her chin settles on your shoulder, and she simply holds you there, breathing you in. You rest your hands over hers, leaning comfortably into her, smiling softly.

“What’s this for?” you murmur.

“Nothing,” she whispers, pressing a kiss beneath your ear. “I just love you.”

Your smile grows before you can stop it. You turn in her arms, looping yours around her neck.

She draws you in until your foreheads meet, neither of you saying anything for a while. You simply stand there, enjoying the quiet, familiar closeness, before you lean forward to kiss her softly.

Her fingers tighten gently around your waist.

“Let’s go to bed,” you murmur.

She nods.

The two of you change before climbing beneath the covers. Alexia places the little Lego spaceman carefully on the bedside table, smiling to herself as though it’s the most precious thing in the room.

The sight makes your heart ache in the best way.

You roll onto your side to face her, your noses only inches apart. Her hand settles against your waist while yours drifts to her cheek, your thumb brushing lightly across her skin.

“Have you had a nice weekend?” you ask, aiming for casual, hoping she doesn’t hear the uncertainty beneath the question.

She smiles immediately.

“It’s been perfect, amor.”

The answer comes without hesitation.

“Everything about it. I’ve loved watching you with your family. I’ve loved getting to be part of it.”

You can’t help smiling.

“I was a little worried.”

“About what?” she asks gently.

You shrug.

“That it might be… too much. That our quiet life in Barcelona would suddenly feel very different.” You hesitate before admitting the rest. “That maybe… you wouldn’t like this part of my world.”

Alexia’s expression softens instantly.

“Amor…”

Her hand slips beneath the hem of your pyjama top, her thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.

“I’ve loved every second of it.”

She says it so simply that you believe every word.

“I’ve loved watching you with the kids. I’ve loved listening to you and Maggie bicker.” She smiles. “I’ve loved seeing the version of you that only they know. This is your home. This is where you grew up. These are the people who loved you long before I did.”

Her fingers trace along your side.

“Getting to see that… getting to be welcomed into it… it feels like such a privilege.”

Her smile grows softer.

“Every story, every joke, every little habit… they all tell me something new about you. They don’t change how I see you.”

She leans forward until your foreheads touch again.

“They just make me love you even more.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment all you can do is look at her. There are a hundred things you want to say, but none of them seem big enough.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what?” she asks gently.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“For everything. For being you.” You brush your thumb across her cheek. “You’ve been incredible this whole weekend. Giving everyone your time, even though I’m sure part of you wanted to hide in the bathroom for five minutes.”

A quiet laugh escapes her.

You smile.

“Watching you with my family…” Your voice softens. “Watching you with the kids.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“The way you are with Emily. How you somehow match Olive’s energy. The patience you have with Nate…” You shake your head. “It means more than I can explain.”

Your eyes sting.

“I could’ve handled if you and Maggie took a while to figure each other out.” You smile weakly. “But the kids…”

A tear slips free before you can stop it.

“They’re my whole world.”

Alexia reaches up immediately, brushing it away with her thumb.

“Seeing how naturally they took to you…” You let out a shaky breath. “It feels like two pieces of my life finally fit together.”

Her hand lingers against your cheek.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed the people I love most to know each other until this weekend.”

You smile through the tears.

“Now it feels like I can finally breathe.”

Alexia blinks quickly, her own eyes beginning to glisten.

“I never knew it was possible to love someone as much as I love them.” You gently wipe away the tears she’s trying to hide. “Then I met you.”

You smile.

“And suddenly my world became bigger. Brighter. I actually look forward to the future now, because I know I’ll have you beside me… and them cheering us on from here.”

Alexia leans into your touch.

“You don’t have to thank me, amor,” she murmurs. “Loving them… loving you… none of it feels difficult.”

“I know.”

You smile, leaning forward until your noses brush.

“But that’s exactly why I want to.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper now.

“You didn’t have to care the way you do. You didn’t have to make everyone feel so loved. You could’ve smiled, been polite, got through the weekend…”

You shake your head.

“But you didn’t. You cared.”

Your thumb strokes gently across her cheek.

“I’ve never been loved like this before. I’m still learning what to do with it.”

A small laugh catches in your throat.

“You make it so easy.”

Alexia doesn’t answer. Instead, she kisses you, slowly, tenderly, like she’s trying to say everything words can’t quite reach. When you finally part, your foreheads rest together once more. Her hand finds your waist again, her thumb resuming it’s slow circles.

“Tomorrow’s going to be hard,” she murmurs.

You nod.

“Yeah.” Your thumb brushes across her cheek. “It will.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever given you enough credit,” she says quietly. “Hearing you talk about saying goodbye is one thing. Seeing it…”

She exhales softly.

“I think it’s going to break my heart.”

You let out a small sad laugh.

“It never gets easier,” you murmur. “If anything… it gets harder.”

Your gaze lands on the little Lego spaceman sitting on the bedside table.

“Every time I come home, something’s different. Nate’s shoes are a little bigger. Olive’s moved on from whatever she was obsessed with last time. And Emily…” You smile softly. “She seems to grow up overnight.”

You shake your head.

“She used to toddle around asking questions about everything. Now she’s smarter than all of us.”

Alexia smiles, her thumb still tracing slow circles against your waist.

“I suppose I’ll just have to come home more often.”

You glance at her.

“Although…” A grin tugs at your lips. “I’m not sure they’ll let me back if you’re not with me.”

She laughs quietly.

“You realise you’re the favourite now, right?”

“I had a feeling.”

“Can you handle the pressure?”

“I think so.”

She nudges her nose gently against yours.

“As long as you’re on my team.”

Your smile lingers.

She presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, and the two of you lie quietly for a while, simply enjoying the stillness.

Then, without opening her eyes, Alexia says,

“I still can’t believe you didn’t know what kick-ups were.”

You let out an offended little huff.

“I still can’t believe you thought I should know.”

A smile tugs at her lips.

“Well, now you do.”

She opens one eye.

“And if there’s anything else you want me to teach you…”

A teasing glint appears in her eyes.

“I’m your girl.”

You lift an eyebrow.

“I might just hold you to that.”

“I was hoping you would.”

The two of you laugh softly. After a moment, the room falls quiet again.

“T’estimo, amor,” she whispers.

Your smile returns.

“T’estimo.”

You stay like that for a long while, wrapped around one another, letting the weekend settle gently around you before morning arrives.

———————————

The morning passes in a blur.

It begins quietly, with lingering hugs and sleepy smiles, neither of you saying much because you both know it’s only going to get harder. Every now and then Alexia squeezes your hand, a silent reminder that whatever today brings, you’ll get through it together.

The goodbyes are exactly as difficult as you expected. The children seem to sense it. They’re quieter than usual. Even Olive’s barely said a word.

You hug each of them as tightly as you can, hoping they’ll somehow feel everything you’re struggling to put into words. Somehow, though, it’s harder watching Alexia say goodbye.

Emily and Olive both cry, only settling when Alexia promises that the two of you will be back soon. Even Nate clings to her for longer than you expect. She reminds him she’ll take good care of his little Lego spaceman, showing him everything in the sky before bringing him safely home again.

His smile is small. But it’s enough.

Ross’s goodbye makes you smile through the tears. He wraps you in one of his usual bear hugs, the kind that somehow says everything without saying anything at all.

When he offers Alexia his hand, she simply smiles and pulls him into a hug instead. Somewhere between football, burnt burgers and an enthusiastic lesson on proper Spanish beer, the two of them have quietly become friends.

He even invites her to a West Ham match. The smile she gives him is warm enough that you suspect she might actually take him up on it.

By midday, you and Alexia are climbing into Maggie’s car. Her hand finds yours immediately. She doesn’t let go once.

When Maggie pulls up in the airport car park, the feeling finally settles in your chest.

The one you always dread.

She walks you both inside, and for a moment the three of you simply stand there, none of you quite ready to say goodbye.

“Well…” Maggie says with a brave smile. “I suppose this is it.”

You nod.

“Yeah.”

Your voice catches before you can manage anything else.

“Oh no,” Maggie exhales shakily. “Don’t start, because then I’ll start, and it’ll just be awkward for everyone. Especially Alexia, who doesn’t deserve to witness our complete inability to be normal human beings.”

You let out a watery laugh.

Maggie points at you.

“She likes to pretend she doesn’t care,” she tells Alexia, “but I know she cries as soon as she gets through security.”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

Alexia chuckles, slipping an arm around your shoulders.

Maggie opens her arms to Alexia first. Alexia steps into her, wrapping her arms around her.

“It has been such a pleasure getting to know you,” she says, holding her tightly.

“The pleasure’s been mine,” Alexia replies. “Thank you… for everything.”

Maggie smiles, leaning in to whisper something only Alexia can hear.

You catch the way Alexia’s expression softens.

When they pull apart, Maggie grins.

“Look after this one for me,” she says, jerking her thumb towards you. “You know what she’s like.”

You try to roll your eyes. Instead, your vision blurs. Maggie notices it, her expression instantly softening.

“Oh, sweetheart…” she says, opening her arms again. You’re hugging her before she finishes the sentence. The tears come all at once. She rubs slow circles across your back, just like she always has.

“I’m proud of you, sis,” she murmurs. “Don’t ever forget that.”

She squeezes you tighter.

“And seeing you this happy…” Her voice catches for just a second. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You cling to her for another moment. Every goodbye hurts. You’d learned that a long time ago. But this one somehow hurts differently. Maybe because this weekend had been filled with so much love. So much laughter. Because, somehow, the life you’d built in Barcelona and the family you’d left behind no longer felt like two separate worlds.

“Love you,” you murmur into her shoulder.

Maggie hugs you a little tighter.

“Love you too, sis.”

When you finally pull away, the two of you wipe your eyes at almost exactly the same time.

“I’ll miss you both,” Maggie says. “Don’t be strangers.”

“You always say that,” you reply, sniffling. “Then complain when I actually text you.”

She shrugs.

“That’s because every normal conversation somehow turns into a lecture about recycling.”

Alexia laughs quietly beside you.

“So rude,” you mutter.

“So true,” Maggie shoots back.

The three of you laugh together.

“You’d better go,” Maggie says after a moment. “You’ll miss your flight.”

You nod.

“Thanks, Mags.”

She smiles.

“Always.”

You lace your fingers through Alexia’s. She glances at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You don’t need her to say anything.

As you walk towards departures, you both look back one last time. Maggie is still standing exactly where you left her. She raises a hand. You both wave back.

Then your eyes fill again. Alexia quietly presses a kiss to the top of your head before guiding you onwards.

It’s still hard. It always will be.

But for the first time, walking away doesn’t feel like leaving one life behind for another.

It feels like you’re carrying them both with you.

———————————

A/n:

I really loved writing this one. I don’t know why, maybe it was all the little moments and all the love. Alexia is officially part of this family, they’ve loved her for a long while but this weekend just confirmed it. And I just love writing the different personalities of the kids 🥰 I really, really hope you enjoyed it.

No one has permission to copy, steal, translate or repost this work.

Friday

The van smelled of basil, lemon zest and tomatoe leafs. You'd opened the windows just outside of Palma, when the traffic fumes had vanished and the air became drier.

The boxes in the back shifted whenever you took a curve too fast, and you'd taken several too fast because you'd spent far longer than intended at the market this morning.

You loved strolling through the stalls, chatting here and there, catching up on the latest gossip on the island and tasting samples of fresh fruit and oysters.

Juan's daughter had fallen for a tourist last summer, a wealthy tech guy from the US with a yacht and too much champagne and parties. The island had gone crazy gossiping about him and his money. You’d cooked for them on the yacht once. After that everyone was dying to know what he was like. You’d simply shrugged. You'd seen the looks they kept stealing across the table. That was enough to know it wasn't your place to judge.

Now Juan was now preparing for what he called the wedding of the century. The only downside was that his daughter would probably have to give up her lemon plantation. „I’ll give you these for free, please,“ he’d insisted. Take them as a thank you for everything you have done for our family.“ You’d smiled at him and kissed his cheeks. You'd eventually figure out what to do with them, you always did.

Marta from the bakery had slipped an extra ensaïmada into your bag and winked at you. "Just because you're single again doesn't mean you should skip breakfast." Small islands had many disadvantages. Free pastries weren't one of them. You smiled, thanked her, and kept the rest to yourself.

You'd never wanted to be the talk of the island. Not when you came out and half the village went to church to pray for you. Not when you left for Berlin, then Paris and Melbourne to learn from some of the best chefs in the world, only to come back with tattoo sleeves and the ambition to open your own restaurant. And certainly not when you and Lucía ended things six months ago.

There hadn't been a fight. No slammed doors or angry words. Just two people who wanted different lives. You belonged in your kitchen. Lucía belonged on the sea. In the end, neither of you had been willing to ask the other to stay. The island had turned it into a much bigger story than it really was. You'd ignored the gossip and thrown yourself into the restaurant. It was easier than dwelling on a life that had never quite fit.

So yeah, being late today wasn't entirely your fault. 
Just as the GPS retoured for the fifth time, the opening notes of a Shania Twain song burst from the old radio. You immediately turned up the volume, used the steering wheel as your drums, and sang along at the top of your lungs as if you were headlining a concert. Life was good.

You drove uphill on a road which was so narrow that the olive branches brushed the side mirror. An iron gate appeared around the next bend, flanked by two massive olive trees and lavender bushes. You punched in the code the agency sent you and waited.

They had called three days ago, asking if you could fill in as a private chef on short notice after their first choice had cancelled. Two weeks with a group of footballers definitely hadn't been on your summer bingo card. But with nothing else planned, and Enzo and his wife covering the restaurant you'd accepted before you had much time to think about it.

The agency had sent you three pages of notes. Someone called Salma didn’t like coriander. Mariona only drank one particular brand of oat milk. Patricia preferred her coffee black. Breakfast was supposed to be at eight. Fresh juice was a must every morning. No photos. Especially no social media dumps. Respect their privacy.

You’d signed the non-disclosure agreement without giving it much thought. What exactly was there to keep secret? That one of them hated coriander? That this woman insisted on overpriced oat milk? It all felt a little dramatic. Probably some overly cautious intern who’d copied every legal disclaimer they’d ever seen into one document.

In the end, nobody cared whether the oat milk was the right brand as long as the food was good and everyone was happy.

The gravel path behind the gate curved through the property between citrus groves and raised stone beds with herbs. Rosemary was spilling over the edges in green waves, more lavender sat beside the path and made the air so full of different aromas that you briefly had to pinch your overstimulated nose.

Behind the next curve the villa came into view, all white stone and oak. It was massive and so luxurious you had to blink twice. Glass windows caught the light, several terraces stretched across both levels and an infinity pool overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.

The brass plaque beside the entrance read Can Esclat.

It sounded exactly like something an architect had suggested and wealthy owners had immediately agreed to.

"Jesus, one broken wine glass and I'll have to work here for the next ten years." You made a mental note to drink from the old glasses before getting out of your car.

Beautiful. A little ridiculous compared to your tiny apartment in Sóller just above the restaurant, but beautiful nonetheless.

You let out a quiet laugh and shook your head. "So this is where footballers spent their money."

You unlocked the front door with the second code and stepped into the entrance hall. The stone floor instantly cooled your feet as you slipped off your shoes by the door. Inside, the air still carried the scent of fresh detergent and polished wood. The cleaners had probably only been there a few hours earlier. You crossed to the nearest sliding doors and pushed them open.

Warm air blew inside immediately. You moved through the ground floor, opening windows and terrace doors until a gentle breeze flowed through the villa and the sterile scent of cleaning products vanished. Much better.

You picked up your backpack and headed upstairs to take a look at the rooms. The agency had assigned you a small room at the end of the floor with a view over a sunflower field. Not too bad.

The first bedroom was huge, with a king-size bed and a balcony overlooking the garden. Linen curtains, oak wood and pale stone made it look like something straight out of an interior design magazine.

The next one faced the hills, it was quieter, with exposed wooden beams on the ceiling and a balcony between two olive trees.

Across the hall was another spacious room, flooded with sunlight from the huge windows. A small balcony overlooked the pool, and the white walls and light wood gave it the same effortless Mediterranean feel as the rest of the villa.

There were several more bedrooms further down the hallway, all beautifully furnished but a little smaller, before you finally reached yours at the very end.

You set your backpack down and placed the two books you wanted to read on the nightstand. Then you looked into the bathroom. Every bedroom had its own, which felt incredibly luxurious. Light travertine covered the walls and the floor, the brass taps gleamed in the sunlight, and fluffy white towels were folded into stacks. Everything looked like no one had ever used it before.

As you headed for the stairs, your eyes fell on a small reading room opposite your bedroom. It was a narrow space with built-in shelves along the walls, two armchairs and a window seat at the end. You could already imagine yourself claiming it as your favourite spot.

Before heading downstairs, you stopped in the middle of the hallway and took one last look around. "Not bad," you murmured to yourself. If the kitchen lived up to the rest of the house, the next two weeks were going to be a lot of fun.

The ground floor was one big, open space. The living room opened onto the terrace through large sliding doors. You could see the sea from almost everywhere. If you hadn't grown up with the Mediterranean, you probably would've found it impossible to look away.

The kitchen at the end of the open space looked beautiful, but you'd worked in enough expensive houses to know that didn't always mean practical. Your eyes went straight to the gas stove and the worktops. Plenty of counter space. Deep sinks. Two ovens and dishwashers. Someone had clearly designed this kitchen for cooking, not just showing off.

The fridge was big enough to feed one of the restaurants you had worked in. Next to it was a separate pantry you hadn't noticed on the floor plan. It was stacked with expensive olive oil, vinegar, flour, and spices.

At the end of the counter stood a proper espresso machine. You recognised the model immediately. A matching grinder, a bag of fresh beans, a portafilter and a tamper sat beside it. “Now we’re talking,” you muttered to yourself. You’d had far worse starting points.

You unpacked the van in two trips, and by the end the island was covered with vegetables and fruit, herbs, fresh fish, minced meat, steakes, flour, olives and two bowls of lemons, of course. You looked at them for a second. "Preserved lemons," you decided. "Or tarte." Problem solved.

Dinner had already changed three times since you’d first set foot on the market this morning. At first, you had planned to make sea bass. Then Toni pointed at a box of langoustines and simply said, "Trust me." And you had.

The tomatoes smelled too good to cook into a sauce. Half would stay fresh, and the rest would go into the oven just long enough to burst. Some fresh focaccia would be perfect to dip into the sauce and Juan's basil would go on top of everything.

You pulled your curls up into a messy bun and started with the bread. Weighed the flour, poured in warm water and yeast and a generous amount of olive oil. Soon flour clung to the tattoos covering your forearms. You worked the dough together until it came smooth and elastic beneath your palms. The cicadas outside hummed so loudly you could hear them through the by now closed windows and doors.

You set the dough aside to rise and turned to the tomatoes, sorting them into shallow trays. "Not you." You nudged a particularly soft one aside. "You're a candidate for the sauce." You picked up another and gave it an approving nod. "You, on the other hand, have earned yourself a spot in the salad."

🍋

You'd just started reducing the stock and taken the focaccia out of the oven when tyres crunched over gravel outside. Then another car arrived and doors slammed.

A minute later the front door burst open.

They laughed.

They chatted.

They sang to music from a phone.

And all in all they were very loud.

You raised an eyebrow and smiled to yourself. If they were hungry enough, they'd find you eventually. The smell of fresh focaccia would do that job for you soon enough.

"Woaa, this is huge!"

"Come on, Jana! Upstairs! We're taking the biggest room!"

Fast footsteps rushed up the stairs, followed by a groan and the sound of a suitcase bumping over the stone floor. "Lia, amor, what did you pack? A whole Swiss cheese or something?"

"Patri, where did you put the keys? I need to get my travel pillow!" someone called from outside. "I don't know. Ask Ale," came the answer.

"But I need it! Where is she?"

"Tía, no sé. Go outside and look for her."

You sprinkled a little more flaky salt over the bread.

A minute later a woman with long dark hair appeared in the doorway. She stopped, closed her eyes for a second and took an exaggerated breath in. "…oh my God," she opened one eye to look at you. "What smells so good?"

You smiled at her, "I made some focaccia for tonight." You set the bread onto a wooden board and watched her approach. She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. "I think I'm in love with you."

Well, that had been quick.

You laughed out loud. "Get in line, girl."

A dry voice came from somewhere behind her. "Kika, stop bothering her."

The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. "What? Food is my love language."

"You've been in here for four seconds."

Another woman with lighter hair and an easy posture appeared in the doorframe. The one named Kika shrugged without taking her eyes off the focaccia. "I'm a simple girl."

That made the other one roll her eyes. "I'm Patri," she said, offering you an apologetic smile. "Ignore her."

"She's not easy to miss here in my kitchen," you replied and laughed at them.

"Our kitchen for the next two weeks," Kika corrected, leaning her arms on the island and looking up at you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked I was the chef and you were an athlete."

"Oh," she winked at you, "I have many talents."

You laughed out loud. "Careful. I charge extra for flirting with the chef."

"I'm holding you to that," she laughed. "I'm Kika." She extended her hand with confidence. "Y/N," you smiled at her and held her gaze until Patri cleared her throat behind you.

"See?" Kika deliberately pulled her eyes away from you and looked back at Patri. "We're practically family." She knocked twice on the marble island and disappeared through the terrace door into the garden.

You raised an eyebrow. This was either going to be very entertaining or very inconvenient.

Before you could resume your preparations for dinner, another couple walked in balancing an impossible number of beach bags between them. "Sorry, can we store the protein powder somewhere in here?" the smaller of the two said, setting a large tote bag down with a sigh. "Sure," you gestured for the floor next to the table, catching the Mallorcan accent. "Just put everything here and I'll bring it into the pantry later," you smiled at her. "You're from here?"

"Sí," she smiled easily, "born and raised, just like this one.” She slung an arm around Patri and ruffled her hair. “I’m Mariona, nice to meet you. The three of us probably know the exact same people, no?"

"Probably," you laughed, “I'm Y/N."

"Great," the slightly taller one interrupted dryly. "I'm Lia and I really want to take a shower.” She raised her eyebrows at no one in particular. “Now that's sorted, can we bring up the stuff, baby?" She turned to Mariona.

Ah, that explained a lot.

"Sí, why don't you head upstairs and I'll take care of our suitcases?" Mariona offered, and the tight face of her girlfriend softened immediately.

It was incredible to watch how her mood shifted with the simplest sentence. You liked their dynamic immediately.

Mariona smiled warmly before looking around the kitchen. "It smells incredible. What’s for dinner?”

Before you could answer, another voice came from the hallway. "Has anyone seen Jana? She went to get her pillow or something." A tall woman appeared in the kitchen. "Oh my God, I'm starving. When's dinner?"

"I was planning on eating at eight, but I can make a starter as soon as everyone's ready," you said. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

“Oh, perfect. Thanks!” the woman said simply before turning around and disappearing again.

“Nice to meet you too, I guess,” you muttered to the now-empty doorway with a small chuckle. A brief silence followed. Patri watched her go with a smirk. “That new salary is already going to her head.” The entire kitchen burst into laughter. Apparently, you’d just missed a major inside joke. Maybe you should’ve done some research beforehand. Then again, you already had more than enough to deal with.

“Out,” you said, pointing your wooden spoon at them like an Italian nonna. “Everyone out of my kitchen. Dinner’s at eight.”

So much for a peaceful afternoon.

🍋

You set the table by the time the light outside turned pink. You'd stopped counting how many people had wandered through your kitchen since they'd arrived. Salma came back at some point and introduced herself this time, ate three olives straight from the bowl you were using for the salad and apologised so sincerely you couldn't even be annoyed.

Kika appeared once, said nothing, took a piece of bread, looked at you like she was deciding something, and left again.

By 7:30 most of them had made their way onto the terrace with drinks Kika insisted on making. The noise had settled into a soft, steady hum that meant everyone had relaxed. You liked that sound. You still hadn't met everyone yet, but there would be plenty of time for introductions over dinner.

🍋

You were plating the langoustines when the side door slid open.

"Hi." The woman entering said with a low voice You looked up.

Unlike everyone else, she wasn't dressed for the pool. She wore dark trousers and a plain white T-shirt, her hair was tied back. She looked like she'd come straight from the airport and hadn't quite switched into holiday mode yet.

And she was… distracting to say the least.

"You're the chef?" She asked looming at you expectantly.

"Guilty." You wiped your hands on the towel over your shoulder and smiled. "Y/N."

"Alexia." Her eyes wandered over the food before settling back on you. "Did you make all this?"

"Unless someone's been helping while I wasn't looking, yes." A corner of her mouth twitched. Oh. Nice.

"Dinner's in about twenty minutes." You slid a platter towards her. "Do you think you can manage carrying that?" She looked down at the tray, then back at you. "I guess so."

"Good. I'd hate for my first day to end in broken crockery."

This time, you were almost sure you saw the beginning of a smile.

She picked up the platter and held your gaze for a moment. "See you outside."

You watched her walk towards the terrace.

God. She was attractive. Not in the loud, impossible-to-miss way Kika was. There was something quieter about her. Something that made you want to know what she looked like when she forgot to be so serious. You caught yourself smiling.

Well. This job had just become a little more interesting.

🍋

Dinner started once everyone had found a seat. Nobody seemed to care where they ended up. Jana grabbed a piece of focaccia before she'd even pulled out her chair.

You couldn't help smiling. "I'll take that as a compliment." Jana shrugged. "It smells way too good to wait."

Across the table, Kika had appointed herself bartender. She wandered around topping up glasses, whether they needed more or not. "Kika," Lia said, covering her glass with her hand, "I'm good."

"It's called being a decent host." Kika said lightly.

"It's called too much gin," the Swiss retorted dryly. Before Kika could argue, Mariona quietly appeared beside her, took the bottle out of her hand and simply brought it back inside.

Instead of sitting down, you drifted between the kitchen and the terrace, brought out more bread and refilled the bowl of tomatoes again. Jana called for more olive oil, and the grilled vegetables needed a refill.

Though you'd never particularly enjoyed working in service, it didn't feel like work with these people. They were easy to talk to, funny and far from being the arrogant footballers you'd feared would show up after that agency briefing.

You loved how they forgot about their phones, reached for another piece of bread and stretched dinner into the whole evening. That was when you knew the food had done its job. Catalan turned into Spanish, Spanish into English and back again.

Lia was halfway through an exaggerated impression of someone from the Swiss national team when the whole table burst into laughter. Perfect timing. You walked out with the pan of langoustines. "I'll save you before she keeps going," you announced laughing.

"Hey!" Lia protested. Mariona just nodded seriously behind you. "Please do."

You laughed, setting the pan down in the middle of the table. "I'll bring them round."

When you reached Kika, she looked up at you with a grin. "So…" She rested her chin on her hand. "Are you this nice to everyone, or are we getting special treatment?" You pretended to think about it while placing two langoustines on her plate. "Ask me again in a week." You grinned at her

"Oh?" Kika tilted her head. "Guess I'll have to keep impressing you then." You snorted quietly and shook your head as you moved on. Jana wiggled her eyebrows. "Kika's working overtime."

When you stopped beside Alexia, she held out her plate. "Two?" She nodded as she looked into your eyes. You placed the langoustines onto her plate. "Let me know if they're any good."

The corner of her mouth twitched.

God, she was going to be the death of you.

"I will." She simply said in a low voice.

You turned away before anyone could call you out.

Saturday

You woke up before your alarm. That happened a lot when you stayed in other people's houses. Somehow, you always woke up early in a place that wasn't your own. Outside your window, the sky was still pale. In the lemon tree in front of your window a bird was making an unbelievable amount of noise.

Downstairs, the kitchen was exactly how you'd left it, which felt like a small victory. Everybody was apparently full and satisfied after dinner, nobody had raided the pantry at 3am.

You turned on the espresso machine, ground the coffee beans, and made yourself a cup before starting on fresh bread dough. Everything else could wait until the coffee had done its job.

Your hands were covered in flour when you heard the terrace door slide open. For a second, you expected Lia. She seemed like the kind of person who woke up early to train.

But when you looked up, Alexia was standing in front of you. She was wearing running clothes, the hair above her ears was damp from sweat and she was breathing heavily.

"You're up early," you said and dusted a little more flour onto the worktop. "I like running before it gets too hot," she answered and grabbed a glass from the nearest cupboard, filled it with water, and drank it straight away. Not a person of many words in the morning then.

You half expected her to head back upstairs after that. But she just stood there, hesitating and… a little unsure of herself. Interesting.

"Sit.” You nodded towards the island without looking up. “You're making me nervous just standing there." Your mouth curved.

She shifted from one foot to the other, and finally sat down.

Hm, she actually listened. You filed that away for later.

After a while she asked, "How long have you been doing this?"

"This?" You nodded toward the island. She tilted her head and grimaced. "Being a chef."

"Since I was 18. I left the island and travelled the world for a while. Europe, Australia, Asia for a few months." She hummed at that. "What do you like about it?" You thought about it for a moment. "I like feeding people." You shrugged. "Good food makes people stay a little longer. They order another bottle of wine, tell stories they'd probably never planned on telling."

You looked up at her. "I like being the reason that happens." You folded the dough over again. "It's hard work. At least at restaurants or hotels. Much pressure. I like being a private chef more."

She nodded at that and was quiet for a moment. "You seem content."

You glanced up. "Is that your way of saying I look boring?" You teased her.

For the first time, Alexia smiled properly.

Small, private, just for you.

Oh, how you wanted to see that again.

"No." She held your gaze. "It's a compliment."

You simply could not manage to look away.

After a moment she inhaled as if she had to reset. Then she got up and went for the coffee machine. Her hand reached for the portafilter with the confidence of someone who had seen this done many times but never actually done it herself.

You watched her scoop the grounds in, uneven and way too much on one side, and tamp down crooked.

"Honestly, this is really painful to watch," you observed. She looked at you. "Your tamp,” you gestured toward the portafilter. “It's totally crooked."

You wiped your hands on the kitchen towel at your hip and came around the island.

“Here. Let me…” You stepped closer and reached for the portafilter. Your fingers brushed lightly against hers as you steadied it, your hand settled over hers for just a moment.

She drew in a slow breath.

Oh.

You stood close behind her to get the right angle. You chest almost touched her back. "Level it first," you said near her ear, tapping the side of the basket. "Then distribute it evenly,” you leveled it with the rake. “Otherwise the water finds the weak spot and just runs straight through."

You felt her chest moving up and down as you picked up the tamper and placed it back into her hand. “Like this.” Your hand settled gently over hers, adjusting her grip before you pressed down together. You could feel the slight hesitation in her hand before she matched your pressure. “Straight down,” you murmured. “Even pressure.”

The coffee compressed beneath the tamper. “Don’t twist,” you added, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Everyone always wants to twist. It doesn’t actually do anything.”

"Like this?" she asked. Her voice was quieter than before. "Yeah. Like that." You kept your hand over hers for a beat longer than necessary before letting go.

She was so close that you could smell her shampoo and sweat. Your stomach did a strange little flip before you could even think about why.

"Now lock it in." You kept your place. She locked the filter in and turned the handle. The machine came to life with a soft hiss.

For a moment you both watched the first dark drops of coffee fall into the cup. Then Alexia picked up the cup.

Without thinking, you reached for her arm. "Wait." She looked at you. "Smell it first. Coffee deserves at least that much respect."

That cute little smile appeared on her face again.

She lifted the cup, closed her eyes and took a slow breath.

"I’d say that smells suspiciously like fresh coffee." A voice behind you made you both turn around. You quickly let go of Alexia's wrist and took a small step back. You definitely had been standing too close.

Kika was standing in the doorway with a mischievous grin. You had no idea how long she'd been there. Probably long enough. For just a second, something crossed Alexia's face before she answered calmly. "Y/N was just showing me how to use the machine."

"Oh, I'm very sure she was." Kika’s grin grew even wider. "I'm going for a quick swim,” she pointed toward the pool

Over her shoulder, „and afterwards I'd love the exact same barista lesson she just had." Kika pointed at Alexia, then winked at you before walking out through the terrace door.

Alexia closed her eyes for a second. A small smile spread across her face. Then she opened her eyes again and looked back at you, tilting her head. "Maybe you can show me again tomorrow," she said. "I think this takes more than one lesson."

Your eyes stayed on hers. "Sure." You said very not so sure of yourself.

She winked before heading upstairs.

God. What was it with these footballers? Why did they all have to flirt with you?

🍋

The rest of the house woke up one by one. Jana's hair looked like she'd had a rough night, the dark rings did the rest. She muttered something about her travel pillow having disappeared again, laid down on one of the loungers on the terrace and immediately drifted back to sleep. Mariona and Lia were already dressed for the beach by nine. Mariona had somehow managed to convince Lia that the sea would be "perfect this early" before anyone else had even finished their first coffee. She tossed two peaches into the canvas bag before catching a handful of cherries at the last second. "Emergency snacks," she declared into your direction.

Lia looked into the bag, silently added a bottle of water, sunscreen and a folded towel that Mariona had forgotten, then zipped it closed without a word. "See?" Mariona grinned. "This is why we work." Lia only smiled. "Someone has to make sure we actually survive your plans."

The Spaniard laughed, slinging an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders as they walked through the open doors into the garden.

She was talking about renting paddleboards, then changed her mind halfway through the sentence because maybe the little cove further down the coast would be nicer, or they could just swim for hours instead. Lia listened patiently, offering the occasional "Mhm," or "That could work," while casually checking whether she'd remembered the car keys.

By the time they reached the stairs down from

the terrace Mariona had picked a flower from one of the bushes and tucked it behind Lia’s ear. Lia sighed with resignation. "Really?" "It suits you." She shrugged innocently. "I'm aware, but that's not the point." Mariona just beamed, completely unapologetic and placed a kiss on her forehead. “You just look beautiful.”

A second later they disappeared across the lawn, laughing about something nobody else had heard. Mariona's voice carried all the way back to the kitchen.

Watching them was strangely satisfying.

Patri came downstairs whistling to herself and adjusting the cap on her head as she walked into the kitchen. Her eyes immediately landed on the two espresso cups on the island. She frowned. "Hang on. Did someone already use the espresso machine?" "Alexia," you said, chopping watermelon without looking up. Kika came in from the pool a moment later, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her. She had overheard your conversation, a grin spread slowly across her face. "Alexia got herself a very private barista lesson this morning."

Patri looked at you for a second, you felt her gaze. The she gave the smallest shrug. "Good for her, I guess." She said casually but could barely contain a grin. "She's been chronically underfucked this season, and the barista is pretty hot."

Oh God. Good to know they had absolutely no filter.

Kika burst out laughing so hard she had to lean against the counter. Even Patri let out one of those quiet laughs that only made Kika laugh harder.

"Oh, God," you groaned, pointing the knife at them before setting it back on the board. "I hate all of you."

"You don't." Kika teased.

"I absolutely do. Out. Both of you. Stop bullying me and get out of my kitchen."

🍋

For lunch, you kept it simple. The chicken had been marinating since breakfast with lemon, garlic and herbs, so all it needed now was a few minutes on the grill. You tossed together a big bowl of roasted potatoes with rosemary, grilled zucchini and peppers, and a fresh green salad with a light vinaigrette. The bread went into the pan to roast with some garlic.

By the time lunch was ready, the smell had spread through the whole villa. Jana was the first to appear in the kitchen. She had clearly recovered from the morning and, after skipping breakfast, looked hungry enough to eat everything on the table.

"Is it ready yet?" You didn't even look up from the platter you were arranging. "If you have to ask, then no." She let out a dramatic sigh. "I think I'm starving." You couldn't help smiling.

"Here." You grabbed a slice of warm garlic bread, topped it with a few leftover tomatoes from yesterday, and finished it with a drizzle of olive oil. "This should keep you alive until lunch."

Jana took a big bite and immediately closed her eyes. "Oh my God…" A drop of olive oil ran down to her chin, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "You're actually saving my life."

The others slowly made their way to the terrace. Mariona and Lia had just come back from the beach, both a little sun-kissed, their hair messy from the sea. Alexia stepped into the kitchen without a word and started carrying bowls outside as if she'd always worked in service. Within minutes, everyone was sitting down. Before you had even finished putting the last bowl on the table, Kika reached for a piece of bread. You lightly slapped the back of her hand. "Seriously? Where are your manners?" "I was just checking if it's fresh," she said.

You gave her a look. "Kika, you literally watched me make the dough this morning." You laughed and pushed the bread basket towards her. "There. Happy now?" "Very." Kika grinned as if she'd won something.

Across the table, Alexia had gone quiet. She had been watching the two of you the whole time, her smile fading a little. Her hand rested on her glass, turning it slowly between her fingers. When Kika laughed again and you laughed with her, Alexia looked down at her plate for a moment before reaching for the olive oil.

It was subtle. So subtle that you almost thought you had imagined it. Probably nothing.

When everyone was happily eating, you stood at the terrace door and looked around the table for a second. This was exactly why you loved cooking — when a simple lunch turned into good conversation, and nobody was in a hurry to leave the table. This always felt like the best compliment you could get.

After a short siesta Salma had found a ball and claimed she had to stay in shape for her new team. What started as a lazy kickabout on the lawn turned serious within about four minutes, mostly because Alexia joined.

Kika did some crazy tricks and insisted on commentating her own performance in third person. Lia stood in goal for approximately one play before declaring the sun was affecting her and retreated to a lounger with a magazine.

You watched from the kitchen window while you prepared dinner, which you told yourself was multitasking. Alexia played with an ease that made everyone else look like they were trying too hard. If you were honest, she also looked mildly offended whenever the ball didn't do exactly what she'd wanted.

"She gets like this whenever there's something to win," Patri said as she walked over with her empty glass. "It's annoying."

You laughed. "I noticed." She poured some water and leaned against the counter. "Most people either can't stand her… or they end up completely charmed."

You glanced back at the garden, where Alexia was celebrating another point with far too much satisfaction. You nodded absentmindedly. "I can see why."

Patri hummed, a small smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah." She took her full glass and wandered back outside. "That's usually how it starts." She murmured just loud enough so you could hear it.

When you brought out a fruit bowl, Mariona was about to walk over to Lia, lying on top of her fully clothed. "Ugh, baby, you're sweaty," she scolded her. "You love me anyway," the brunette retorted and smacked a kiss on her girlfriend's mouth. She got a running start and jumped right into the pool, fully clothed.

"What are we eating tonight?" Lia called over just when Mariona emerged from the water. "How about a barbecue?” You said to no one in particular. “Lazy day, lazy dinner."

"I'll grill," Alexia said, balancing the ball on her head like a seal. You frowned. "You're aware you guys pay me an insane amount of money to do that for you, right?"

"I want to." She said plainly, like it wasn't up for discussion, and reached past you for a piece of watermelon.

🍋

By the time the sun started dipping low and turning the water gold, Salma and Jana dragged the long table closer to where Alexia had claimed the grill.

She turned out to be annoyingly good at it. You handed her vegetables, she passed you plates without either of you having to ask. By the time dinner was ready, you'd fallen into an easy rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. After dinner Lia stretched her arms above her head. "I think the travelling is finally catching up with me." You caught the wink she gave Mariona. So did probably everyone else. Not the most subtle way.

"What?" Mariona asked innocently, already getting to her feet. She held out a hand to Lia. "I'm tired too."

"Sure you are," Patri muttered into her wine. As they disappeared into the villa, Kika called after them, "Just remember the walls are thin!" Mariona didn't even turn around. "Jealous?" Even Alexia laughed at their banter before the villa slowly emptied.

Sunday

Sunday started slowly. You'd set your alarm an hour later than usual after checking everybody would be fine with breakfast being an hour later than the agency had insisted on.

You came downstairs and smelled burnt coffee before you saw anything. Alexia was standing at the machine, her hair was up and messy from sleep, and she was staring at the milk like it had personally wronged her.

The counter around her was a small disaster: grounds everywhere, a kitchen towel soaked through, steam still hissing faintly from the wand. "Don't say anything," she said without turning around.

"I wasn't going to say anything." You smiled to yourself and found your way through the mess toward the sink. "I was going to ask if the machine is still alive."

"I think I did something wrong with the steam part." She muttered.

"You think?" Now you could barely suppress a grin.

"It made a noise like it was angry at me, and then milk went everywhere." She finally turned, and there was a small milk stain on her shirt she clearly hadn't noticed yet. You burst out laughing.

"Oy, don't make this weird." She slapped your arm but was fighting a smile. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her try to compose herself. "Okay. Well, work it out. Start over. What were you trying to do?"

"I tried to foam the milk. It looks so easy when you do it." She said sheepishly.

"It is easy. You just held the wand like you were trying to stab something." You grabbed a clean pitcher from the shelf and filled it with milk. "Here. Try again. Slower this time."

You covered her hand with yours and felt the familiar sting in your stomach. She gave you a side look, and lowered the wand into the milk. This time she went slow, too slow, barely any movement at all. "You're going too slow, here." You moved the pitcher a bit more. "Feel it." You said with a low voice and stepped closer.

"You'll hear it change. Little hissing, not screaming." Her breathing changed but she managed to concentrate on the milk.

A moment passed, the sound was softening and her shoulders relaxed slightly. "There," you said. "That's it."

She looked almost proud of herself, tilting the pitcher to check the foam. It was endearing. "Does this mean I'm allowed to make coffee from now on?"

"Absolutely not. This kitchen has suffered enough." You took the pitcher gently from her hands. "But I'll let you pour it into the cup. That part you can't really ruin."

"High praise." She reached for two mugs and filled them with foam while you poured the espresso. You carried the mugs to the island and sat down across from Alexia, sliding one toward her.

She wrapped both hands around it like it was something precious, and there was that small proud look on her face, and you found yourself wanting to keep her looking exactly like that for the rest of the week. Maybe longer, though you weren't about to admit that to yourself this early in the morning.

She caught you looking and didn't say anything, just held your eyes over the rim of her mug a second too long, and you had to remind yourself to breathe normally.

You'd barely taken a sip when you heard footsteps from the stairs and Salma walked in, Jana right behind her, both still half asleep. "Please tell me that's coffee," Salma said, eyeing your mugs. "It is."

"Can you make us some?" Jana asked, already pulling out a stool. "Alexia clearly gets special treatment,” she whined.

"Alexia made her own, actually," you said.

"Mostly." She corrected you and shot you a look over her mug. "I made the foam."

"She made the foam," you confirmed with a nod and winked at her, small and private as if flirting with her had suddenly become your favourite hobby.

🍋

Somewhere between roasting granola and your second coffee that morning you'd made a decision.

"Tonight," you announced over breakfast, "everyone's cooking." Lia frowned at you.

"With me," you added. "I'll teach you."

"I'm terrible at cooking." Kika groaned. "Perfect." You didn't even look up from your Granola. "You can chop vegetables."

"I'm terrible at that too."

"Then you'll learn."

Kika rested her chin in her hand. "Or…" she said, "I could just watch you cook."

You raised an eyebrow. "That's not cooking, that's flirting with a knife nearby."

She laughed at you and pointed her finger. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy it." You shook your head with a laugh and went back to writing out a rough plan for the evening, something simple enough for eight people with wildly different skill levels not to burn the villa down.

🍋

By six the kitchen had turned into something between a cooking class and complete chaos. Mariona actually knew her way around a knife, unsurprisingly, and Lia stood next to her contributing mostly commentary.

Jana somehow managed to overheat a pan of oil within the first ten minutes. It caught fire almost immediately, and she shrieked. With one smooth motion, you lifted it off the heat before anyone, including Jana, had the chance to panic.

Alexia closed her eyes for a brief second. "Jana…"

"What?! It was an accident,” she protested. "Nothing happened!"

Patri looked over from the chopping board. "The fact that you say that so confidently is exactly the problem. Can we leave you alone for five seconds?"

Jana just rolled her eyes at them.

Kika planted herself directly beside you at the island, closer than the actual task required. "Show me," she said, holding up a knife like it might bite her. "Hold it like this." You adjusted her grip, and she immediately overdid the eye contact, lashes and all. "Like this?" Her voice dropped an octave lower than necessary. "Exactly like that, yes, now cut the tomato instead of my hand."

She laughed, delighted with herself, and went back to butchering the tomato with theatrical concentration, and you let her have her fun because it cost you nothing and clearly made her evening.

Alexia had ended up at the far end of the island, quietly working through a bowl of herbs with more focus than the task probably needed. You drifted down there eventually, the official reason being quality control. "You're murdering that basil," you said.

You picked up a knife, came around beside her, close enough that your arm brushed hers when you reached for the board. "Like this. Roll the leaves first, then slice, as thin as you can."

You put your hand loosely over hers on the knife, guiding the motion once, slow, and she went very still beside you, the kind of still that wasn't about the knife at all.

"Chiffonade," you added, mostly to fill the silence, since your hand was still there a beat longer than the lesson required.

"Fancy word for something simple." She muttered. You looked at her sideways and took in her smile.

She took over the motion herself then, careful and precise, clearly wanting to get it right, or maybe just wanting an excuse to have you standing there a little longer, you couldn't tell.

Across the kitchen, Patri looked up from whatever she was supposedly chopping, caught the two of you standing there a half second too close over a bowl of basil, and said nothing at all. She just held your gaze for a moment when you finally glanced over. One eyebrow was raised slightly, and she gave you the smallest wink before turning back to her onions like she hadn't seen a thing.

🍋

Dinner, once it actually came together, was a beautiful mess, slightly overcooked in places, over-salted in one dish courtesy of Kika, but nobody seemed to care. You joined them for dinner and everybody stayed long after the plates were empty.

Alexia, across from you, occasionally caught your eye like she was checking you were still there.

Later, once the house had gone quiet and everyone had gone to bed, you lay awake longer than you meant to, staring at the ceiling with something warm sitting low in your chest that had nothing to do with the wine.

Monday

You wandered down the stairs, foamed up some oat milk and were about to pour an espresso when the sliding door to the terrace opened. You smiled to the machine without turning around.

"Been running again?" you asked her without looking up.

"Morning," she hummed.

"Do you want a coffee?"

"Yes, please."

You turned around and saw her standing at the kitchen island. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and the early morning sun was dancing on her hair and face.

She looked so soft like this.

You turned around before she would catch you yearning. You poured another espresso, topped it with foam and took one cup in each hand.

"Come," you motioned for her to follow you outside.

The morning sun was so bright that you had to blink twice to adjust your eyes. You first thought of sitting down at the edge of the pool with her but quickly dismissed that thought. Kika's comments or Jana's oblivious looks were something you absolutely wanted to avoid on such a beautiful morning.

So you nodded toward the narrow path behind the house that wound down the hill and toward the beach. Cicadas hummed in the low grass that lined the path.

"Pre-breakfast walk?" you asked, handing Alexia her cup. She smiled over the rim. "Are you sneaking me away from the others, or am I imagining that?"

"Maybe I just want to drink my coffee in peace," you said, shrugging and trying to sound innocent.

"Mhm."

She followed anyway and her steps fell easily beside yours. The path curved between dry grass and low shrubs. From here you could already see a narrow ribbon of sea between the hills, silver and still in the morning light. A steep path led down to a small beach. You reached a flat rock which was wide enough for two, and sat down, patting the space beside you.

Alexia sat down next to you so that your shoulders almost touched. She took a sip of coffee, looked out at the sea, then back at you.

"So? Did you lure me up here on purpose, or is this a coincidence?"

"Definitely a coincidence," you said, grinning. "I had no idea there was such a comfortable rock up here."

She smiled and her gaze stayed on yours a moment too long to call it coincidence.

God, you'd do anything to see that smile of hers every day.

She took another sip of her coffee, studying you over the rim of the cup. "So, tell me. When you're not stuck cooking for some very demanding footballers, what do you actually do?"

You laughed into your own coffee. "Demanding is generous. I have a restaurant on the island. It's a small place, ten tables, right by the harbour in Sóller."

"Oh wow, you own it?"

"With a business partner, yes. We opened it a year ago." You wrapped both hands around your cup, feeling the warmth against your palms even though the morning had already turned hot. "Before that, I was all over the place. Amsterdam, Paris, Berlin, Melbourne. Learning from people who pushed me hard, mostly."

You laughed at the memory.

"There was a chef in Paris who ran the kitchen like a drill sergeant, yelling if a reduction wasn't reduced enough. I kept my head down and somehow that made him like me." You shrugged. "Intense environment. Not one I'd want to go back to." You shook your head to get rid of the memory.

"How was moving for you? So often, I mean." She wanted to know.

"Pretty good, actually. It was exactly what I needed back then. I wanted new experiences, the freedom."

She was quiet for a moment and you just looked at her. "What about you? Do you ever think about leaving? Trying somewhere new?"

Alexia shook her head almost right away. "No. Never." She said it simply, like it wasn't even a question for her. "I want to stay in Barcelona my whole career. This is my home. I want to retire here, in this shirt, and nowhere else."

"You sound very sure."

"I am sure. Some people need change to feel alive. I'm the opposite. I've built everything here — my friends, my routines, the people who know my game better than I do. Why would I give that up?"

"No temptation at all? Not even a little?"

"Not even a little." She smiled, and there was something soft but firm behind it. "I know myself. This is where I'm supposed to be."

You nudged her shoulder gently. "That's rare, you know. Most people your level get restless eventually."

"Maybe. But I'm not most people." She said it lightly and with simple confidence.

You nodded, thinking about your own path. "I left the island because staying felt suffocating. You're staying because leaving would feel like that for you. Funny how opposite that is."

"Maybe we're both just doing what feels right." She turned her cup slowly in her hands. "What was so suffocating when you first left?"

You considered how much to say, then decided the morning was too nice to be careful, and took a deep breath. "I came out at nineteen, and half of my hometown started praying for my soul like I'd caught something contagious. I felt like an alien most of the time, definitely not like myself. So leaving felt like breathing for the first time in years."

Alexia's expression softened. "And now you're back."

"Now I'm back. Funny how that works. You leave to become someone, and then you come back because that someone actually wants to live near the sea and eat lemons that taste like something."

"So no big city for you, long-term?"

"I had my years of big cities. I like knowing my neighbours now. Even the ones who used to pray about me." You smiled. "Though I imagine staying somewhere your whole life has its own kind of peace."

"It does." She glanced at you sideways. "Everyone always assumes I must want more. More trophies, more attention, a bigger stage. But I already have what I want."

You took a deep breath. The air smelled like salt and the warmth of the day. You looked at her. "To knowing exactly what you want, then." You knocked your coffee cup lightly against hers. "To knowing what you want," she echoed, and bit her lower lip as her eyes danced over your face.

🍋

They left around ten for a day trip Mariona had planned the night before. She wanted to show them a beach on the east side of the island, a place she used to visit as a child.

Before they left, there was some kind of happy chaos. Jana couldn't find her sunscreen and borrowed Lias's, Mariona searched for her left flip-flop, while you packed them a light lunch and some fruit for the day.

You stood in the doorway with your coffee and watched them laugh and argue about who would sit where. Then you waved as the cars drove away through the gate, feeling like a proud mother sending her children off for the day.

You liked days like this, if you were honest. Seven people was a lot of noise to love, and loving it didn't mean you didn't also enjoy a kitchen with nobody in it, the radio on low, nothing to negotiate with anyone about.

You spent the rest of the morning slowly, stepped outside and wandered through the small herb garden behind the kitchen. The warm sun filled the air with the smell of rosemary and thyme. Basil grew in large pots by the wall, mint spread across one corner of the garden.

You stopped every now and then to rub a few leaves between your fingers, letting the fresh scents settle in your mind. You always found your best ideas like this. No pressure. No noise. Just good ingredients.

After a few minutes, you went back inside, grabbed a notebook from the kitchen drawer and sat down at the island. You started writing tomorrow's shopping list for the market. Fresh tomatoes, courgettes, peppers, peaches, melons, lemons, good burrata, Parmesan, flour, butter, cream and fresh fish.

You paused for a moment, tapped the pen against the paper, then added a few more things as new ideas came to you. By the time you put the pen down, tomorrow's menu, and most of the week, had already taken shape in your head.

With tomorrow planned, you tied your hair back and turned the music up. Dinner was still hours away, but that was exactly the point. You started with onions, carrots and celery, chopping everything into small, even pieces before crushing more garlic than most people would consider necessary.

You put a heavy pot onto the stove and poured a generous splash of olive oil. The vegetables softened slowly, filling the kitchen with a nice smell before you stirred in the garlic for another minute. Next came the meat. Beef and pork went into the hot pot with a loud sizzle, and you broke it up with a wooden spoon until every last bit had browned.

You added a spoonful of tomato paste, letting it caramelise slightly before pouring in a generous splash of red wine. Steam rose immediately as you scraped the bottom of the pot, lifting all the flavour that had built up there.

Crushed tomatoes followed, along with a parmesan rind you had been saving in the fridge, a couple of bay leaves and a handful of rosemary and thyme from the herb garden.

You gave everything one final stir, lowered the heat until the sauce barely bubbled and placed the lid on slightly askew.

Now came the easiest part.

Waiting.

A good ragù couldn't be rushed. Four, maybe five hours on the stove, a quick stir every now and then, and it would take care of itself.

You wiped down the counter, poured yourself another coffee and glanced at the pot with a satisfied smile.

When you stepped outside into the midday sun the terrace had warmed so much it was nearly impossible to walk around without burning your bare feet. So you sat on the edge of the pool and dangled your feet into the water.

You definitely didn't think about anyone in particular, or at least you told yourself you didn't.

🍋

"We're back!"

You looked up from the stove just as they entered — yeah, that was the right word — your kitchen.

"You should've come," Lia said, dropping onto one of the stools.

"We found this little beach bar right by the harbour," Jana added.

"And we met some cool people," Pnatri continued. "Locals. Well… mostly,"

K nodded. "They basically adopted us."

That was probably right, Mallorcans collected tourists the way grandparents collected stray cats.

"One of them works as a skipper," Lia said. "She takes people out on a yacht."

"Not one of those huge tourist boats," Jana quickly explained. "A proper sailing yacht. Small groups."

"She invited us to join on Wednesday," Kika said, already sounding sold on the idea. "Swimming, snorkelling, hidden coves… the full Mallorca experience.

“You should come with us,” Mariona beamed at you, “she said there are still plenty of spots."

You paused for a second before stirring the ragú again. "Well. Did she?"

"Yeah." Patri leaned against the counter. "I think her name was…" She frowned, trying to remember.

"Lucía," Alexia supplied.

Oh no. Surely a coincidence.

Mallorca was small, but it wasn't that small either. There had to be dozens of Lucías who worked on boats.

"…So?" Kika asked. "Are you in?"

You looked back at the pot, giving it another slow stir. "Maybe," you said and shrugged. "Sounds like fun."

Actually, Mallorca was small. Who else, if not your ex, would pick up some hot, definitely-not-local girls for a boat trip?! You groaned internally.

🍋

After dinner Jana found a Monopoly box somewhere in the villa's endless cupboards and the whole group migrated out to the terrace table.

"Absolutely not," Patri said, the second she saw it. "Last time this ended a friendship."

"Which friendship?" You wanted to know as you set out fresh glasses on the table and poured some wine.

"Mine and Alexia's, briefly, in 2019." Patri said dryly.

Alexia, already sorting the money into piles without being asked, didn't even look up.

"You mortgaged my hotel." Patri pointed her finger at her.

"I needed the cash." Alexia tried to defend herself. .

"Come join us, Y/N, it'll be fun." Lia invited you.

You hummed. "Well, I'm not sure about that,” you teased and nudged Alexia's arm.

Patri just looked at you.

You sat beside them with a glass of wine, more as a spectator than a player at first, until Kika just shoved a stack of pink and yellow bills at you and declared you were playing, whether you wanted to or not.

It started fine. Friendly, even, for about twenty minutes. Then Alexia landed on Mariona's second property and the whole table went quiet. "That's forty," Mariona said, delighted.

Alexia counted out the money with visible reluctance. "Fine."

It wasn't fine. You could see it wasn't fine.

Something had shifted behind her eyes, some switch had flipped.

By the second hour she owned half the board and was still somehow annoyed about the half she didn't. "I should have bought the orange set." She grumbled.

"You have four hotels," Jana said with exaggerated enthusiasm. "You're winning!"

"I could be winning more," she retorted.

Jana looked at you across the table with an expression of pure delight and could barely contain her laughter.

Her downfall came fast.

Three unlucky rolls in a row landed her on Lia's hotels back to back, and the money went from a tall confident stack to nothing in under fifteen minutes.

You watched her stare at the board like it had personally betrayed her. "This game is rigged,” she announced.

She went bankrupt on her next turn, folded her arms, and sat there in silence while the rest of the table erupted in laughter. "I hate all of you." She grumbled. "And I want everyone to know," she continued, addressing the table like a press conference, "that this result does not reflect skill."

"It reflects you losing," Jana hollered while Alexia was absolutely sulking, arms folded across her chest, staring at the board with the exact expression of someone who had just lost a Champions League final rather than a fake hotel. It was one of the funniest things you'd seen all summer.

You nudged her knee beneath the table without thinking. "I'll make you a coffee," you offered. "Might help." She looked at you, and for a fleeting moment something in her expression softened, though the pout remained firmly in place."It won't fix this,” she gestured towards the board.

"No," you replied, getting to your feet. "But it'll be a very good coffee." You headed for the kitchen, hearing the others continue to tease her mercilessly behind you.

After a while you heard the quiet scrape of her bare feet against the floor. The soft click of the terrace door closing behind her.

When you turned around, she was leaning against the kitchen island, arms still crossed, jaw set, looking every bit as stubborn as she had at the table.

God. She had absolutely no right to look that attractive when she was annoyed. The crease between her brows, the slight pout on her lips, the way she fixed you with that unwavering stare. It made your pulse stumble. You had to grip the edge of the counter to stop yourself from closing the distance between you. Just to see if she'd still be pouting after you kissed her.

You busied yourself with the espresso machine, measuring the beans before grinding them. "Still mad?" You grinned into the portafilter.

"You're laughing at me," Alexia said.

"A little."

"A lot."

"Maybe." You grinned.

She narrowed her eyes at you. "You're enjoying this."

You turned, leaning your hips against the counter opposite her. "Seeing the great Alexia Putellas lose to a hotel in Monopoly?" You tilted your head. "Maybe a little."

She took one slow step closer. "Careful, Chef."

"Or what?” You quietly challenged her.

One corner of her mouth twitched, barely there. "I'll remember this."

You held her gaze for a beat before sliding the espresso across the island and breaking the moment deliberately.

Alexia inhaled deeply and took a sip of her coffee, her eyes still on you.

You took a cloth and wiped down the counter to busy yourself. “I’ve got to be at the market tomorrow before sunrise,” you said after a while, more into the room than directly at her.

Alexia just looked at you. She raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

She liked playing games.

“Five-thirty,” you added, still pretending you were only making conversation. You deliberately didn’t look at her as you wiped your hands dry.

“It’s not exactly everyone’s idea of a good morning.” You shrugged.

“Hmm, sounds early,” she simply said.

Oh, you’re making me work for it.

You huffed a quiet laugh and finally turned to face her. “Come with me.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Was that an invitation?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you can survive a fish market at five-thirty in the morning without complaining.”

She curled her lips. “What do I get in return?”

“Coffee.” You paused just long enough to make her wait, too. “…And my time.”

She held your gaze for another second, calculation, before nodding once. “Okay.”

You smiled teasingly. “Don’t oversleep.”

Tuesday

Your alarm went off at twenty to five. You lay in the dark for a minute and smiled to yourself.

Then you pulled on a hoodie and jeans, grabbed a hair tie and headed downstairs. She was sitting on the island scrolling her mobile, fully dressed, hair pulled back and with two coffee cups in front of her.

"You made coffee." You observed, surprised.

"I've had lessons." She handed you a cup. It smelled really good and tasted even better.

"This is actually decent," you mocked her.

"Don't sound so shocked," she retorted.

"I'm allowed to be shocked. Last Saturday you tamped like you were angry at the machine."

"I'm a fast learner." She shrugged and said it with a quiet confidence indicating it was probably true.

You drank your coffee together as the first pale light crept into the kitchen, the house still silent above you.

The air outside was cool enough to make you pull your hoodie a little tighter. Only the distant sound of the sea and the steady chorus of cicadas broke the silence. Gravel crunched beneath your trainers as you crossed the driveway.

Your delivery van stood where you'd left it on Friday, parked beside the kitchen entrance. White, a little dusty, with the restaurant's logo on the side, and the back was already lined with empty crates waiting to be filled.

Alexia stopped for a second. "So this is what the famous chef drives." You unlocked it with a grin. "Disappointed?" "A little." She mocked.

You climbed into the driver's seat while she settled in beside you. The van still smelled faintly of coffee, herbs and fresh bread. As you turned the key the engine rumbled to life. You rested one hand on the steering wheel and glanced at Alexia. "Ready?"

You pulled out of the driveway, and the villa slowly disappeared behind you.

🍋

The market was already alive. Forklifts rumbled through the wide aisles, vendors shouted across the halls and crates of fresh produce were stacked so high Alexia had to tilt her head back.

The moment you stepped inside, a wave of smells hit you. Fresh basil and rosemary mixed with ripe peaches, citrus and tomatoes, someone was grinding coffee beans and behind it all lingered the sharp scent of the fish hall, mixed with salt water.

To most people it was overwhelming. To you, it smelled like possibility. Like home.

Beside you, Alexia immediately covered her mouth and nose. "Oh my God."

You laughed. "Give it five minutes and you'll stop noticing." Alexia looked at you as if you had completely lost your mind. "I highly doubt that."

You only smiled and grabbed one of the empty crates from the trolley. "Come on."

Within seconds you were swallowed by the crowd. You headed straight for Toni. He’d been your family’s fish vendor for years and a family friend for almost as long.

"¡Bon dia, Y/N!"

"Bon dia, Toni."

"You're late today."

"It's not even six."

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Alexia. This was the part that usually separated people who liked the idea of a fish market from those who could actually stomach one.

"Exactly." Toni grinned before noticing Alexia behind you. "Did you bring an assistant?" "Temporary." You grinned back at him not acknowledging her.

Alexia shot you a look. "Temporary?"

"We'll see how you handle the fish." You told her and winked at Toni. “So, what’ve you got for me today?” you asked him over the noise of the market.

Toni lifted a bright red snapper onto the counter. "Caught three hours ago,” he told you.

You leaned closer and ran your fingers lightly over the skin before lifting the gills to check the colour. Alexia watched quietly.

"I’ll take it," you said and nodded.

"What else?"

"And six sea bass."

Toni nodded and wrapped the fresh fish in an old newspaper. Then he reached behind the counter and grabbed two oysters out of a bucket of ice. “These are on me.” With practiced movements, he slipped the knife into the hinge and popped the shell open. A squeeze of lemon, then he handed it to Alexia first.

She accepted the shell out of reflex, looked at it for half a second, then very carefully handed it back with a gracious smile. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. She was trying so hard not to look horrified. “Her loss,” you grinned at Toni as alexia kept a tight smile on her face.

Toni handed it to you instead. Without a second thought, you tipped the shell to your lips and swallowed it in one smooth motion before handing it back.

Alexia stared at you. You raised an eyebrow.

Mocking her became one of your favorite hobbies. “What?” You asked innocently.

“Nothing,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “I just didn’t expect you to do that.”You shrugged. “It is the freshest you’ll ever have an oyster.” Her eyes stayed on you in a silent challenge and you both bit back a grin.

Behind you, Toni cleared his throat. “That’ll be one hundred and twelve.” He told you.

You gave him a look.

Toni sighed. “…one hundred.”

You still didn’t move.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” He waved a hand. “Ninety five. Because it’s you.”

“That’s more like it.” You grinned at him.

He took the money and grinned back. “Don’t tell my other customers.”

You paid cash, thanked Toni and waved goodbye, then turned left and headed to the fruit hall.

You stole a look at Alexia from the corner of your eye. She walked beside you looking faintly out of place in her sunglasses.

"Take those off," you nudged her shoulder, "nobody's judging your outfit here."

"I'm protecting my eyes. The fluorescent lights are aggressive."

You raised an eyebrow at her but she took them off anyway, tucked them into her collar, and followed you through the aisles.

Juan's stall was further down, and he spotted you before you'd even reached him, already grinning, already reaching for a crate. "Y/N! You're back so soon, I only just saw you Friday."

"I need more lemons,” you grinned at him. “The tarte I made out of them was delicious."

He winked. Then his eyes landed on Alexia beside you, and his eyebrows went up with the delight of a man who had just found something new to gossip about. "And who is this?" He wanted to know.

"Alexia," she said and offered her hand. Juan took it with both of his, beaming. "Alexia. Beautiful name."

He looked between the two of you with an expression that made you want to disappear into the crate of lemons.

"You two work together?"

"Something like that," you said quickly, before he could ask anything more specific.

"Mm." He clearly didn't believe that for a second, but he let it go for now. He’d squeeze every bit of information out of you next time you’d see him alone.

He then launched into his usual speech about the upcoming wedding, and Alexia listened to the whole thing with genuine attention, nodding along like she'd known him for years rather than four minutes.

You caught yourself watching her. She fit into your world with irritating ease. You weren’t sure you liked how much you wanted her to.

The two of you moved through the rest of the market slower than usual, mostly because Alexia kept stopping to look at things, picking up a peach and smelling it like she'd never really thought about where peaches came from before, asking questions about almost everything. Why this tomato and not that one? What made one olive oil better than another? You answered all of them, patient and quietly amused by how genuinely curious she was about something you'd taken for granted half of your life.

"You really love this," she observed as you reached the herb stalls. She watched you lift a bundle of basil to your nose before placing it in the crate.

"I really do."

"I can tell. Your whole face changes. It's sexy." She simply looked at you waiting for your reaction.

Your mind went blank. Damn it. One sentence, one look out of these eyes and suddenly you couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say.

You looked back down at the herbs, pretending to inspect a bundle of basil while willing your heartbeat to settle.

Alexia clicked her tongue softly. "Hey."

Before you could react, she slipped two fingers beneath your chin, and gently turned your face back towards her. "I'm talking to you,” she said much too low for the public space you were standing in.

Your breath caught and you bit your lower lip. "Maybe I can listen and shop at the same time," you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

One corner of her mouth lifted. "Can you, though?" She held your gaze for another second before letting go with a cocky smile.

"You're supposed to be helping me shop," you said narrowing your eyes.

"Am I not?" She asked mischievously.

"No, you're distracting me."

"Is it working?"

You glanced at her. "…Maybe."

“Good,” she nodded, picked up the crate before you could and continued down the market as if nothing had happened.

You followed with a smile you couldn't quite hide.

By the time you'd worked through your whole list, the sun outside had climbed higher, and the noise from the market thinned as the early crowd had already gone home. "Do you still want that coffee before we head back?" you asked, nodding toward the small stand near the entrance.

Alexia glanced towards it. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Is it as good as yours?"

You scoffed. "Absolutely not."

"Then why are we stopping?"

"Because Mateo would be deeply offended if I went past without saying hello,” you told her.

She smiled and tilted her head toward the stand. "Lead the way."

The smell of warm pastries drifted through the cool morning air when you approached. "Bon dia!" the older man behind the machine called as soon as he spotted you.

"Bon dia, Mateo."

"The usual?" You nodded. "And one more."

Mateo's eyes flicked to Alexia before returning to you with a knowing smile. Alexia leaned closer. "Does everyone know you here?"

You shrugged. "Pretty much."

Mateo slid two tiny espresso cups onto the counter. "On the house." He winked at you. "You'll bring me dinner one evening."

You laughed and shook your head before picking up the cups and chatting for a couple of minutes drinking your espresso.

Outside the market halls, Alexia and you leaned against the low stone wall. Around you, traders loaded empty crates into their vehicles while others lit their first cigarette of the morning.

Alexia broke the silence first. "I get it now."

You looked over. "Get what?" She glanced back at the market. "Why you wanted me to come."

🍋

The van had barely rolled to a stop before the front door of the villa opened. Patri stepped onto the driveway in flip flops and a bikini. "There you are,” she exclaimed.

You climbed out and stretched your back after the drive. "Were you looking for us?"

Patri folded her arms. "For her,” she nodded toward Alexia. “I woke up, your room was empty, your phone was gone and nobody knew where you'd disappeared to."

"I went to the market." She simply said.

"So I gathered." Patri looked at you. "With our chef."

"Our chef?" you repeated with a laugh.

"Well, you're certainly not hers alone." She mocked. Alexia sighed. "It was groceries, P."

"Mhm. I'm sure it was."

You hid a smile as you opened the back of the van. The moment the doors swung open, the stacks of crates filled with vegetables, fruit and fresh herbs came into view. Patri walked over, looking inside. "…Okay, that's actually a lot of groceries."

"Told you,” Alexia retorted.

Patri picked up a peach, inspected it, and took a bite. "Still." She pointed the peach at Alexia. "You voluntarily got up before five in the morning."

Alexia shrugged. "Worth it."

Patri looked between the two of you for a beat longer than necessary. "I don't like how vague that answer is." She narrowed her eyes.

You laughed, lifting one of the heavier crates onto the trolley. "If it makes you feel better, she complained through half the fish hall."

Patri grinned. Alexia rolled her eyes. "Where are the others?"

"Beach." Patri nodded towards the stone steps leading down to the cove. "They've been down there for about an hour." She reached into the van, stole another peach and stepped backwards. "I'm going back before Jana drowns trying to beat Kika at Takeshi's Castle."

She stopped. "You coming, Ale?" Alexia glanced at you as you started unloading another crate. "You don't need help?"

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

You nodded. "Go enjoy your day."

For a moment she looked like she wanted to say something else. Then, she simply nodded. "I'll see you later."

With that, Alexia followed Patri down the path towards the beach, while you wheeled the first load through the kitchen doors.

🍋

You threw together lunch from whatever had looked too good to leave behind at the market. Thick slices of toasted sourdough were rubbed with garlic. You chopped tomatoes, dressed them with olive oil, flaky salt and basil and tore burrata over the top. At twelve you set the table with bowls of olives, manchego, jamón and fresh fruit.

They returned hungry. Within minutes the terrace table was full and everyone helped themselves, still in swimsuits and sunglasses.

Lunch turned into one of those lazy afternoons where nobody had a plan. Jana and Salma grabbed their towels and announced they were working on a proper tan line. Patri and Alexia went for a walk, while Mariona and Lia claimed sun loungers by the pool. You went upstairs for a little nap after the early start.

When it was time for dinner preparations to start, you slipped on your apron and tied your curls back. You started scrubbing a tray of small potatoes before tossing them with olive oil, sea salt, rosemary and whole cloves of garlic. They went into the oven and soon the kitchen was filled with a warm, earthy smell.

While they roasted, you prepared the fish. You scaled the sea bass, filleted it and removed the pin bones. One by one, you patted each fillet dry before scoring the skin with a sharp knife. A little olive oil. Sea salt. Black pepper. Nothing more. Good fish didn't need much.

You chopped parsley, capers, anchovies and garlic as finely as you could, adding lemon zest, a squeeze of juice and enough olive oil to turn it into a bright green salsa. Exactly what the fish would need.

Courgettes, aubergines and red peppers were cut into thick strips before you laid them across hot grill pans. Soon, the kitchen filled with the sweet smell of roasting peppers.

Every now and then you opened the oven, turning the potatoes so every side browned evenly.

The afternoon slipped by without you noticing. You prepared tomorrow's breakfast for all of you to eat on the boat, mixed another batch of focaccia dough and left it to rise beneath a damp tea towel.

By the time the sun began to drop behind the hills, everything was ready. The potatoes were golden. The vegetables had gone soft. The fish was the only thing left. You waited until you heard their voices outside before heating the largest frying pan in the kitchen.

The skin hit the hot metal with a loud crackle. Perfect. The evening went by slowly just like the afternoon had. Nobody was in a hurry to end it but nobody stayed up particularly late either.

🍋

After you’d cleaned up you closed the dishwasher, wiped your hands on the towel one last time and switched off the lights.

The kitchen fell dark, leaving only the small lamp above the sink. Everyone had gone to bed almost an hour ago. Tomorrow's boat trip meant another early start, and for once nobody had argued when the yawns began.

You climbed the stairs quietly, careful not to make too much noise. The hallway was lit only by the moon spilling through the windows at the far end.

Just as you reached your door, another one opened.

Alexia stepped into the hallway.

She was wearing an oversized and pretty worn out Barça Shirt that fell to the middle of her thighs. One sleeve was slipping slightly off her shoulder. She clearly hadn’t slept yet.

You forced yourself to look back up at her face again. "Couldn't sleep?" you asked quietly raising an eyebrow.

She leaned on the doorframe and held up the empty glass in her hand. "I was thirsty."

"Hm," you hummed. "And there was clearly no water in your bathroom next door?" You curved your mouth.

Her eyes stayed on yours. "Apparently not."

"Unlucky." You tilted your head.

"Maybe,” she said slowly. “Or maybe I didn't mind the excuse." She said in a low voice.

You bit your lower lip. "An excuse for what?"

Alexia took a slow step into the hallway. "To see if you were still awake,” she challenged.

Her eyes dropped to your lips.

Just for a second.

You smiled to yourself and took a step forward, leaving barely any space between you.

She didn't move away. You caught the slightest hitch in her breath.

"You're staring again," you whispered.

"I know." She tilted her head. “Can’t help it.”

"You should stop."

"Hmm, so could you." She pursed her lips.

"Still thirsty?" you murmured.

Her gaze met yours again. "Not anymore."

You reached past her and rested your hand on the wall behind her, just next to her ear. The muscles in your arm flexes.

She inhaled. "You're making this difficult," she murmured.

You tilted your head just enough for your nose to almost touch her cheek. "I thought you liked a challenge."

Alexia tilted her head to meet your eyes. Then she let her gaze drop to your mouth.

She leaned in.

You let her.

Your lips were only a breath apart.

You could almost feel them.

At the very last second, you turned your head just enough for your lips to brush the corner of her cheek again.

"Good night, Alexia," you whispered against her skin smiling.

You pushed off the wall and slipped past her, your eyes holding hers deliberately.

You woke to the feeling of a hand sliding up between your thighs, and for a moment you thought you might still be dreaming. The sheets were hot and twisted around your hips, your head pounding with what you hoped was the after effect of too many orgasms and not the beginnings of an illness.

You blinked your eyes open and met the burnt honey warmth of Alexia's gaze, inches from your face. She was already propped up on one elbow, hair a mess, her mouth red and bitten, like she'd been chewing on the skin all night. She smiled at you, slow and satisfied, the dimple in her left cheek threatening to undo you before you'd even finished waking up.

Her hand was bold and familiar, tracing the curve of your inner thigh, and you realised you were naked, the duvet pooled around your waist, and her own body was tucked along your side, spooning you with the casual possessiveness of someone who considered you private property.

You grunted, voice rough from sleep. "You're always horny." You tried to sound annoyed, but it came out as a purr, and her smile doubled in size.

Alexia nuzzled her nose into the crook of your neck, kissing the soft patch of skin just beneath your earlobe. "You love it," she mumbled, her hand inching higher, fingers stroking lightly over the lips of your cunt.

You squirmed away, only to have her pin you in place with one leg, stronger than you remembered. The movement pressed her even closer, the heat of her body a slow, inevitable gravity.

You caught a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand, 8:17. For a second you panicked, cataloguing all the things you were supposed to do that day, all the places you were supposed to be. Then you remembered that you had no job, no apartment, and no where to be. You let the panic drain away and rolled onto your stomach, letting Alexia climb over you.

She straddled your ass, the weight a reassuring anchor, and you felt the blunt, familiar pressure of her strap nudging at your thigh. You turned your head, chin pressed to the pillow, and glared at her over your shoulder.

"You're a nuisance," you said, but you were already spreading your legs for her.

She laughed, the sound lazy and pleased, and dipped her mouth to your shoulder blade, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. The hand between your thighs was more insistent now, two fingers circling your clit with the precision of a locksmith.

You moaned into the mattress, and she rewarded you by pushing you further into the bed, her other hand gripping your hip so tight you were certain it would bruise.

She slid the head of the cock between your legs, teasing your entrance. You were still sore, still slick, and the little aftershocks of last night shuddered through you when she pushed in, slow and careful, like she was afraid you'd break.

You gasped, clenching around the fullness of her, and she bent low when she bottomed out. Her rhythm was quick, all business, her mouth at your ear, "We have twelve minutes before I need to get on a call." And that urgency did something to you, to both of you she was sharper, bossier, less careful with your body, more intent on getting you off and cleaned up in record time.

One hard, deep thrust and the cock was fully sheathed in you, her palm pressed flat between your shoulder blades, pinning you to the bed. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe right, you were at her mercy and that was exactly where you wanted to be.

She fucked you harder than the night before, less ceremony and more necessity, and you loved it. You pressed your cheek to the sheets, mouth open, taking each thrust as it came, letting her use you like an outlet for whatever tension she woke to every morning.

You didn't expect to come so fast, but you did, in less than three minutes, her fingers working your clit as her hips hammered home, the pressure so sharp and bright you almost bit the pillow. She wouldn't let you lie there limp, though, not when she had so little time. She pulled out, rolled you to your back, and straddled your face, the cock still slick with you.

You licked her, greedy, hungry, the taste of yourself on the silicone only made you want it more. Alexia's thighs on either side of your head, her hands fisted in your hair, she rode your mouth in a way that was almost violent. You wished you could watch her, but your eyes were closed and your world was heat and pressure and the sound of her voice when she finally came, hips grinding down on you, swearing in Catalan.

After, she flopped on her side, breathing hard, "Come with me," she said, rolling off the bed and dragging you with her. You were dizzy, still half dreaming, but you followed her, naked, through the bedroom to the en suite. She started the shower, then pulled you in after her, shoving you up against the tiled wall while the water pounded down, hot enough to raise a pink flush on your skin.

She washed you with quick, practiced hands, fingers everywhere at once, she soaped your neck and back and ass. You tried to protest, say that you could wash yourself, but she cut you off by pinning your wrists to the tile and kissing you, the taste of last night's whiskey on her tongue. She pressed her thigh between your legs until you moved with it, desperate for friction, for anything she would give.

"Five minutes," she muttered against your mouth, and you nodded, eyes rolling back. She kissed her way down your neck, her hands at your tits, soaping them slowly, almost reverently. You tried to grip her biceps, but she had your hands trapped overhead again, and the feeling of helplessness only made you wetter.

She dropped to her knees, the shower beating down on her, pushed your knees apart, tongue hot and pointed as it licked upward, relentless and shocking. The tile was slick against your spine, cold in places where her hands hadn't braced or caressed you, and the contrast made every nerve ending spark.

You clung to her shoulders, nails digging in as she ate you out with the same ruthless focus she brought to everything else. Her hands pinned your thighs wide, and the vibration of her moan sent you electric.

Your legs started to shake almost immediately, the bruises from days ago throbbing at the edges, but she didn’t let up. If anything, she doubled down, tongue lapping at your clit, then plunging inside you with obscene, perfect precision.

The water thundered around you, drowning out your cries but not diminishing them, and you wondered if anyone else in the house could hear or if the world itself had shrunk to the square meter of steam and Alexia’s mouth.

You came hard, clutching the back of her head, legs threatening to buckle. She caught you before you slid down the wall, lifting you up and pinning you with her hips as she kissed you, mouth still slick and open, as if she was feeding your pleasure back to you. You gasped against her, dizzy, water and Alexia all you could taste.

She spun you gently so your chest pressed against the tile, her hands massaging your shoulders down to your hips. “Hold on,” she murmured, and you braced yourself as she pressed herself against your ass, the cock nudging between your thighs, hot even in the rain of the shower. She lined herself up and pushed in, slow at first, letting you adjust, then harder, deeper, until you were fucking yourself back on her with every thrust.

She worked her hand between your legs, fingers circling your clit again, and you realised she was going to make you come a third time, right here, right now, before either of you had even shampooed your hair. The thought made you whimper, breath steaming against the wall. "You love making me late," she accused, but her voice was so full of pride and want that it sounded like an apology and a promise all at once.

Your third orgasm was a ragged, splintered thing, a relic of all the pain and longing of the last week, and you let it break over you, biting down hard on your own arm to keep from screaming her name. She held you through it, slow thrusts easing you down, then finally stilled, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath tangled with the mist.

You got a devilish grin on your lips, “Bet you can’t make me cum again before you have to get out” You tilted your head, watching her through the steam, and Alexia’s gaze went heavy, heat blooming in her eyes.

She let go of your waist and caught your wrists, pinning them so your hands were pressed into your own back. You felt her cock brush the inside of your thigh, then up between your cheeks, and she guided it with one hand, using the other to grip your ass, spreading you open.

"Since you want to be a fucking brat," she muttered, "I guess I have to teach you a lesson and fuck you like one." The words were hot against your ear, a threat and a promise in equal measure.

You braced yourself, knees bent slightly, and she nudged the head of the cock against your entrance, too slick already, eager, ready to be filled. She pushed in with a single, brutal thrust, and you cried out, the sound echoing in the tiled enclosure.

Her hand gripped your hip so tight you could feel it in your bones, and she didn’t wait, didn’t give you time to adjust. She fucked you hard, relentless, the slap of her hips against your ass drowned only by the hiss of water bouncing off your backs.

You got a hand free and reached for the soap shelf, teeth bared at the force of her, and she only laughed, low and rough, at your attempt to steady yourself. "Look at you," she said, voice gone feral, "bent over and taking it, just like you wanted."

You whimpered, the pulse of sensation already bright behind your eyes, and she leaned over you, pressing your chest harder to the wall with her own weight. Her hand left your wrist, came up to tangle in your hair, and yanked your head back so your neck arched and your mouth opened to the streaming water.

"You really are going to make me late now," she growled, and punctuated the sentence with a savage slap to your ass, the sound of it sharp and obscene in the small space. It startled you, made you clench around the cock, and she responded with another slap, this one harder, her palm stinging against your skin.

Each thrust drove you further up the wall, your cheek flush to the tile, and you could hardly catch your breath. She reached around with her free hand, because she was a fucking show-off, always, and never needed both hands to break you and slid her fingers between your legs. She found your clit, already swollen, and rubbed it with quick, ruthless circles, in perfect counterpoint to the pounding rhythm inside you.

You felt yourself coming apart at the seams, the heat of your orgasm rising sharp and fast. She felt it too, the way your body clenched and bucked, and she only redoubled her efforts, fucking you even harder, her hips a perfect piston, her hand never letting up on the tender, electric bundle of nerves that threatened to undo you.

"Come for me," she demanded, and the command shot through you like lightning. You came, shattering, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, and she fucked you through it, never letting up, fucking you until your knees gave out and you sagged against the wall.

She kept you there, trapped between her and the wall, her cock still inside you, and her hand still tangled in your hair. You panted, lips parted and slack, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Alexia waited until the shudders had completely worked their way through you before she finally, finally pulled out. The moment of emptiness was so raw you actually whimpered, and she laughed, a sound both cruel and tender. She stepped back, letting the water rinse you off, then ran both hands over the curve of your ass, appraising the marks she’d left.

"Messy girl," she said, voice softening, and you wanted to melt into the tile and never come out. She smoothed a palm over one cheek, then the other, and you could feel the pink heat radiating off your skin.

You braced both hands on the wall and tried to get your breath back, but she was already behind you again, her body pressed close, lips at your ear. "You know," she said, "when you’re this bad I really ought to fuck your pretty ass instead." The words lit something electric at the base of your spine, and you bit your lip, unwilling to admit how much you wanted it.

She noticed, of course she noticed everything and brought her hand down in a sharp crack against the centre of your ass. The sound echoed, and you yelped, though the pain was more a jolt of sensation than actual hurt.

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" she whispered, voice all smoke. "Being stretched open for me?" Her hand slipped between your cheeks, thumb teasing at your rim in a slow, maddening circle. You squirmed, but the shower wall was unyielding and her body kept you pressed tight.

She worked her thumb in slow, steady pressure, not enough to penetrate but enough to make you tremble. She kissed your jaw, then your cheek, then bit down on the tender spot between neck and shoulder. The sensation built and built, a different kind of need than before sharper, more exposed.

She let go of your hair, and both hands found your hips, steadying you. "Maybe next time," she said, "if you keep misbehaving." She withdrew, leaving you gasping, then smoothed her hand down your back, a gentle apology.

You made a sound, half protest, half plea, but she was already turning off the water and grabbing a towel. She bundled you in it, rubbing your skin briskly, and then herself. She tugged you into the bedroom and pushed you down onto the bed, the duvet cool against your just washed skin.

Alexia dried herself with clinical speed, then pulled on a fresh sports bra and joggers. She perched on the edge of the bed, checking her phone, then set it aside and rolled you to your back, straddling your hips. Her hair was still wet, beads of water trickling down her neck.

She leaned in, kissed you, then pressed her forehead to yours. "Stay put," she said, and left you there, dazed and still throbbing from the overstimulation and the violence of her want. 

You'd barely begun to catch your breath, face mashed into the pillow, when she returned. Her hands landed on your thighs, and moving you with a surprising ease so you were laying over her thighs.

You yelped, legs kicking, but she just laughed low, mean, and delighted, kneading the backs of your thighs and ass with a possessive hunger. "You're such a fucking brat," she said, all affection disguised as threat, and you tried for a retort but couldn't find words, just a whimper when her palm came down, sharp and stinging, on the curve of your ass. 

The slap reverberated through you, heat blooming in the handprint she'd left behind. She did it again, and then again, alternating sides, her rhythm measured and merciless.

"Count," Alexia ordered, voice gone sharp with command.

You managed a breathless, "One," and she rewarded you with another, the sound as shocking as the pain. "Two," you gasped. Another slap, harder, and you arched against the mattress, burying your face in the blankets to muffle the cry. "Three."

She paused to rub the hot, aching skin, her thumb tracing careful circles, then leaned in and nipped the reddest spot with her teeth as she moved you back to lay on the bed. "Good girl," she praised, then said, "You know what happens to bad girls?"

You shook your head, trembling, and she ran her tongue up your spine, slow and deliberate, "I told you, they get their assholes fucked," she whispered, and you moaned, your whole body flushing with heat at the threat, at the promise.

She spread you wider, kneeling between your shivering thighs, and stroked your cunt, two fingers slipping easily inside, working the slick up and between your cheeks. She toyed with your rim, running a wet circle over it, not gentle but not cruel, just steady and patient.

You writhed, wanting it and dreading it in equal measure, and that tension made you wild. She pressed the tip of her thumb there, just enough for you to feel the stretch, not enough to breach.

She alternated teasing your pussy, then your ass, until you were so wet and desperate for her you could have sobbed, "You want it?" she asked, voice thick. "You want my cock inside your ass?"

You whimpered, "Yes, please, fuck, please," and she rewarded you with a filthy, satisfied hum.

"Say it."

"Please," you begged. "I want it. Please, Alexia. I want your cock in my ass."

She grinned, victorious, and pulled away, “Who said you were in charge here?”

Before you could make another demand, Alexia peeled herself off the bed and reached for a towel, rubbing you down with as much gentleness as she could muster. Then she pulled a fresh t-shirt over your head, tugged it straight, and kissed your forehead. You tried to wrap your arms around her, but she dodged, already pulling clean joggers up over her hips.

You didn’t miss the way her eyes kept flicking to her phone, or the way her jaw set hard as she tucked it into the waistband. She was already halfway back into the world, the cocoon of morning lust and violence shrinking with every second.

“Don’t tell me you have to actually go somewhere,” you said, voice hoarse and petulant.

Alexia grinned, sharp and unapologetic. “I always have somewhere to be. Today it’s a meeting with your father.”

Your blood ran cold, then hot, “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head, twisting her hair into a bun as she spoke. “He called early. Apparently, he wants to talk terms.” She glanced back at you, eyes glinting. “You broke a code, princesa. Now it’s my job to fix it.”

You rolled onto your stomach and buried your face in the pillow, still where she’d left you, furious and mortified in equal measure. “I hate you.”

Alexia bent over and kissed the back of your thigh, just above the bruises she’d left earlier. “So you keep saying,” she said, “We’ll talk about that and the punch when I get back.” She smacked your ass, then stood, all efficiency again.

You watched her stalk out of the bedroom, the door closing with a click, and listened to her footsteps grow distant. You lay there, face in the pillow, ass still burning, and tried to count how many times you had wanted to kill Alexia and fuck her in the span of a single day. You lost track around seven. You sat up, legs trembling, and pulled the duvet around your shoulders, the world spinning a little as you did.

💪🏼

The house had gone strangely quiet by the time you finally dragged yourself out of Alexia's bed. You pulled the duvet around yourself and shuffled towards the bathroom, still listening for any sign of her.

Nothing, of course nothing.

Alexia could apparently disappear into the middle of a war and leave you lying in her bed like she'd merely gone downstairs to make coffee.

You were especially not going to think about the fact that she'd walked out of here barely dressed to go meet your father. The same man who had just killed his own nephew for putting his hands on you and Alexia had apparently decided the appropriate response was to attend a meeting with him in fucking joggers.

You showered quickly, dressed in the clothes you'd arrived in and headed downstairs.

The first person you encountered was Patri, she was halfway through the hallway, carrying what looked like a bowl of cereal.

She stopped and looked at you. her eyebrows slowly climbed, "No."

You frowned, "What?"

"I don't want to know."

"Then stop looking at me."

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

Patri's gaze dropped pointedly to your neck, you immediately covered it with your hand, her mouth fell open, "Oh my God." Patri grinned, "Boss finally met someone who talks back."

You stared at her, "Patri."

She held both hands up, "Okay, okay." She started walking past, then stopped, "Oh, by the way."

You closed your eyes, "What?"

Then heard Mapi's voice from the living room, "She's awake!"

You immediately turned around, Mapi appeared around the corner with Ingrid behind her, Mapi's eyes travelled over you, then she smiled.

Ingrid looked between you both, clearly fighting a smile, "Breakfast?"

You sighed, "Please."

You followed them towards the kitchen, trying desperately to pretend you hadn't just woken up in the bedroom of the most dangerous woman you'd ever met after an evening that had somehow involved your father's dead nephew, a Polaroid, and a multitude of orgasms.

You sat down, Ingrid put coffee in front of you, "Alexia said you'd probably need this."

You stared at the mug, then at Ingrid.

Ingrid nodded, "She also said you're not to leave the house."

Your eyebrows rose, "She what?"

Mapi dropped into the chair opposite you, "Yeah, that part sounded very much like Boss."

You looked towards the doorway, "Did she seriously think I'd just sit here waiting for her?"

Mapi shrugged, "Apparently."

"She's unbelievable."

"Mm."

You picked up your coffee, "Where's she meeting my father?"

Nobody answered immediately, you slowly lowered the mug, "...What?"

Ingrid gave you a sympathetic look, "Alexia didn't say."

"Nobody knows?"

Mapi exchanged a glance with her, "Cata knows."

"Where's Cata?"

"With Alexia."

Your stomach twisted, you hated that your first instinct was to worry and perhaps worst of all, you hated that somewhere underneath all of it was the quiet certainty that Alexia was going to walk into a room with your father and somehow make you worry about him.

You pushed your coffee away, "I'm calling Cata."

Mapi immediately reached across the table and put a hand over your phone, "No."

You stared at her hand, then at her, "Move."

"Boss said—"

"Boss isn't here."

Mapi's eyebrows lifted, "That's exactly when Boss's orders become more important."

You narrowed your eyes, Mapi smiled sweetly as you stared at one another.

Then your phone buzzed, you snatched it up.

One message from Alexia, who'd apparently at some point saved her number in your phone and taken yours.

Alexia: Behave.

You stared at the screen, your jaw dropped.

Another message arrived.

Alexia: And eat.

You looked slowly around the table, Patri put her own phone down, "What's she said?"

You locked your phone, "Nothing."

Patri grinned, "Oh, definitely something."

You pulled your coffee towards yourself and muttered, "I fucking hate her."

Mapi smiled, "Sure you do."

Your phone buzzed again, you looked.

Alexia: I can feel you complaining about me from here, princesa.

You stared at it, then typed furiously.

You: Go play mafia boss with my father and leave me alone.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Alexia: Brat.

You couldn't stop the smile, which was unfortunate, because every single person in the kitchen saw it.

💪🏼

You realised exactly how empty the house had gone, all at once. Even the usual chaos of the kitchen had faded, replaced by a strange, echoey hush that made the whole place feel abandoned. You wandered room to room through the den, the sunroom, and finally back up the main staircase half convinced the others were setting up some sort of elaborate prank or intervention.

You passed through the library. Empty. The balcony. Empty. Even the terrace, overlooking the pool where Mapi normally spent all her downtime, was conspicuously vacant, the only evidence of life the faintly damp towel slung across the nearest lounge chair.

You pulled your phone from your pocket. No new messages. No missed calls. You checked your notifications twice, as if they might have simply failed to load the first time. The silence grew unbearable, and you found yourself pacing the upstairs hallway, tracking the same circuit over and over until the tread beneath your feet started to wear thin.

You ended up in the gym, not because you wanted to work out, but because the door was propped open and the low thump of music pulsed through the hallway, too loud and too rhythmic to ignore. You stepped inside, expecting to find at least one of the girls blowing off steam on the treadmill, or maybe a pair of them sparring in the corner, but there was only you.

You lay down on the mat, the music pounding in your chest, and stared up at the fluorescent lighting. It wasn’t even music you particularly liked, the kind of playlist you’d put on if you wanted to get hyped up for a bank robbery, or possibly a car chase. You let the sound wash over you, a physical sensation, not entirely pleasant, and tried to think about nothing at all.

You lost track of time. At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because you woke to the sensation of someone standing over you, their shadow a solid block across your face. You blinked awake, squinting into the lights.

Alexia looked down at you with an expression you couldn't immediately read equal parts exasperated and relieved, with a thin undercurrent of something like anger that she was clearly struggling to contain.

"You’ve been missing for two hours," she said, arms crossed over her chest, "Everyone thought you’d gone wandering."

You propped yourself up on your elbows, instantly aware of how wrecked your hair looked, "They clearly didn't look very hard, your team must be shit at hide and seek"

Alexia nodded with a sort of forced patience. She glanced at the speaker, then back at you. "You’re supposed to tell someone where you'll be."

You shrugged, then, in a slightly louder voice, "I didn’t know I was on house arrest." You tried to sound indignant, but your voice came out small, more like a confession than a protest. 

Alexia didn’t move, just ran her gaze up and down your body, cataloguing every detail and finding it lacking. She jerked her chin toward the hallway. “With me. Now.”

You opened your mouth to ask why, but she was already gone, her footsteps echoing on the floor as she cut through the house with mechanical efficiency. You scrambled upright and followed, unable to shake the weird, obedient thrill that came from being summoned by her, even if you knew it was supposed to be terrifying.

You trailed Alexia out of the gym, silently rehearsing what you’d scream at her if she so much as tried to lock a door behind you. She didn’t look back, didn’t even slow for a door, just shouldered through the door at the end of the corridor and waited for you to catch up, one hand braced flat on the frame.

You followed her into her bedroom, it was only after a moment that you saw the boxes.

Six of them, labelled in Lily’s handwriting. Your name in fat black sharpie on three. Two more with bathroom, and a last one with misc/fragile, which you suspected was code for all the shit I didn’t want to wrap individually. Your duffel bag, the one you’d left at Lily’s was perched on the edge of the bed, half unzipped and already bleeding your old clothes and a tangled mess of tangled charger cords.

You stared at the boxes, then at Alexia. She didn’t meet your eyes, just watched you take it in, arms folded, her expression a mask of studied neutrality. “You’re moving me in?” you asked, voice floating somewhere above your own head.

Alexia shrugged, “It’s safer,” she said, like that was all the explanation required. When you didn’t answer, she walked past you and started opening the boxes, pulling out stacks of clothing with a bored sort of grace and dropping them in the bottom drawer of a dresser. She made quick work of the first box, then moved to the next, methodically unpacking your life into her space.

You hovered at the foot of the bed, feeling suddenly and enormously ridiculous. You had lost the right to your own privacy somewhere between the moment you’d let her finger you after that first encounter at the bar and the one where you’d come to beg someone to fuck your ass when it had never appealed to you before. But this was something else, this was an act of total control.

Alexia glanced up at you, then back at the open box. She pulled out a handful of t-shirts and smoothed them over her forearm, holding each one long enough for you to see the faded screen-prints and threadbare collars. “You can re-fold these if you want,” she said. “I don’t care.”

The silence thickened. You crossed to the dresser and opened the top drawer, socks and underwear, already sorted. She must have started unpacking before realising no one knew where you were. You snorted, half in disgust, half in awe. “You’re not even going to pretend to let me have a say in this?”

“There’s no time for your say,” Alexia said, flat. “There’s only time for keeping you alive.” She slammed the drawer shut, then turned and leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, finally holding your gaze.

You stood a little taller, trying to will your embarrassment into anger. “You could have asked me. We’re back to you deciding what’s best for me again.”

Alexia’s hands stilled on the shirt she was folding, for a second, she didn’t look at you and that was somehow worse.

You crossed your arms, waiting.

Finally, she lifted her head, “You think I should ask?”

“Yes, Alexia.”

Her jaw tightened.

You could practically see the argument forming behind her eyes, piece by piece, as if she were arranging the words on a chessboard before deciding which ones would hurt most.

“You disappeared.”

“I needed space.”

“You disappeared.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“You ignored Cata for days.”

You scoffed, “Oh, I'm sorry. Was I supposed to answer every single phone call from your terrifying chauffeur because you decided you were entitled to know where I was?”

“I was worried.”

“Cata kidnapped me.” Alexia’s expression shifted, You pointed towards the door, “She physically dragged me into a car.”

“She was following my orders.”

“Exactly.” Your voice rose, “You keep doing this. You decide something, and suddenly everyone else has to fall into line because you're the boss.”

Her eyes hardened, “And you think I should have let you walk away?”

“Yes!” The word cracked through the room, Alexia stared at you, you were breathing harder now, anger making your hands shake, “Yes,” you repeated, quieter. “You should have let me walk away.”

Alexia laughed once, there was absolutely no humour in it, “After Cata found you with fingerprints around your fucking throat?”

You went still, “Alexia”

“No.” She dropped the clothes onto the bed, “You don't get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend I am angry because I want to control you.”

Your eyebrows pulled together, “Then why are you angry?”

Alexia stepped towards you, “Because I thought you were dead.”

The words landed differently, you swallowed, she kept coming until there was barely a metre between you.

“I sent Cata looking for you every day. Every day, Y/N.” Her voice remained low, but the restraint in it was becoming obvious, “I had people checking hospitals. Police stations. Every fucking place I could think of.”

“I didn't ask you to.”

“No. You didn't ask me for anything.” Her eyes flicked over your face, “You just disappeared.” You looked away, Alexia's voice sharpened, “Then Cata finds you walking down a street looking like that.”

You flinched, she noticed, of course she did, her expression softened for half a second before anger reclaimed it.

“You wouldn't even tell me what happened.”

“Because I knew what you'd do.”

“What would I do?” You gave her a pointed look, Alexia's mouth tightened, as she stepped closer, “You think I am angry because you didn't tell me who hurt you.”

“You are.”

“I am angry because you were hurt badly enough that you could barely stand and you still thought your best option was to disappear.”

Your throat tightened, Alexia shook her head.

“And then when I finally get you back here, you punch Cata.”

You glanced towards the door, “She betrayed me.”

“She followed an order.”

“She didn't have to drag me into the house.”

“She was trying to keep you alive.”

“And you don't get to decide that!”

Alexia's eyes flashed, “I do when you keep making decisions that could get you killed.” You stared at her, her chest rose and fell slowly, then she said, quieter, “You tried to punch me too.”

You looked away, “That was different.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I was terrified.”

“So was I.”

Your eyes snapped back to hers, Alexia didn't move, that was the thing that stopped you, not anger, not the authority in her voice.

The fact that she looked genuinely shaken, “You think I wasn't terrified when you came through that door?” she asked. “You think I didn't see you and immediately think my worse fear had come true and someone had tried to kill you?”

You swallowed.

She gestured vaguely towards your face, “You don't understand what you looked like.”

“I know what I looked like.”

“No, you don't.” Alexia stepped closer again, “And you don't understand what it means that you're still breathing.”

You frowned, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means anyone else who did what you did—”

She stopped, her jaw flexed as you waited.

“Anyone else who tried to punch me,” she continued carefully, “who disappeared after being attacked, who ignored every attempt to find them, who then turned up refusing protection because they were too stubborn to admit they needed it…” Her eyes locked onto yours, “They wouldn't still be breathing, people who don't want help and take up too much time are a hindrance we get rid off”

The room went very quiet, you stared at her.

Alexia's voice lowered, “You are alive because you are you.” Your stomach dropped, “And because you are under my protection.”

You immediately bristled, “There it is.”

“What?”

“Protection. You keep saying it like that's the same thing as permission.”

Alexia frowned, “It isn't.”

“Then stop treating it like it is.”

“You think I am keeping you here because I want to lock you away?”

“I think you're moving my entire fucking life into your bedroom without asking me.”

“Because your apartment isn't safe.”

“Then help me find somewhere else that is!”

“No.”

Your mouth fell open as Alexia folded her arms, You stared at her, “Did you seriously just say no?”

“Yes.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Your apartment was trashed.”

“I know.”

“You were beaten there.”

“I know.”

“Your cousin tried to kill you there.”

“I fucking know, Alexia!”

“Then stop acting like I'm being unreasonable.”

“I am not acting like you're being unreasonable!” You threw your hands up, “I'm saying I want some control over my own life!” Then you added, quieter, “You don't get to become the person who decides where I sleep and who I see just because you're scared.”

Something in her face changed, not enough to make her back down, but enough that you knew she'd heard you, “You're right.” Alexia exhaled through her nose, “You should have been asked.” Your eyebrows rose, “But,” she added, you folded your arms again.

“Of course there's a but.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You're staying here.”

“Alexia—”

“Until I know you're safe.”

“That's not asking.”

“No." She stepped closer, “But I'm not going to apologise for that.” You opened your mouth and she cut you off, “Because I watched you fall apart in my arms.” Alexia's voice became quieter, “You were shaking so badly you couldn't stand. You were crying so hard you couldn't breathe and then you slept for almost twelve hours.”

Your eyes dropped, “I know.”

“I thought you were going to disappear again.”

“I wasn't.”

“You did it before.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“And who was protecting you?” You had no answer, Alexia watched your face, then, softer, “Exactly.”

You looked around her bedroom, at your clothes in her drawers, your things stacked neatly beside hers. The boxes, the evidence that she'd already made room for you before you'd even had the chance to object, “You could have told me.”

“I knew you'd say no.”

“That isn't your decision.”

“I know.” You looked back at her and she sighed, “I know.”

It was the closest thing to an admission you were going to get, you rubbed a hand over your face, “I'm still angry.”

“I know.”

“You can't just decide things for me.”

“I know.”

“And Cata owes me an apology.”

Alexia's mouth twitched, “You punched her.”

“She kidnapped me.”

“She apologised.”

You paused, “She did?”

Alexia nodded, “Several times, to me anyway” Then Alexia added, “She also said you kicked her.”

You frowned, “She was carrying me!”

“She says you have surprisingly strong legs.”

Your face twisted, “That isn't relevant.”

Alexia's mouth finally curved, “It's a little relevant.”

“Don't smile.”

She immediately tried to suppress it, “You're smiling.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.” You glared at her and Alexia's smile grew, and the corner of your own mouth betrayed you.

You caught it immediately, “No.”

“What?”

“Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make me laugh when I'm angry with you.”

"Are you going to start behaving now?" You caught it immediately the tiny betrayal at the corner of Alexia's mouth, the way she was trying far too hard not to look pleased with herself.

You stared at her, and, because apparently you had absolutely no instinct for self-preservation where this woman was concerned, your expression softened.

Your eyes dropped deliberately to her mouth before lifting again.

“No.” Alexia's eyebrows rose. It was barely a word, but you made sure the way you said it carried considerably more than that.

“No?” she repeated.

You took a small step closer, your voice dropping into something warmer, almost sultry, “No.”

Alexia's eyes narrowed slightly, catching on immediately.

You let your arms fall loose at your sides, tilting your head as you looked at her, “I like the punishment I get from you when I'm naughty.”

Silence, Alexia's eyebrows climbed higher, for perhaps the first time since you'd met her, she looked genuinely caught off guard.

You watched the realisation move across her face, followed immediately by the slowest, most dangerous smile.

“Is that so?”

You shrugged, fighting the urge to grin, “Maybe.”

Alexia took one deliberate step towards you, your back straightened instinctively, that smile only grew, “Interesting,” she murmured.

You immediately pointed a finger at her, “Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“You know exactly what.”

“I don't.” She looked entirely too pleased with herself, “You said you like punishment.”

“I said—”

“You said you like when I punish you.” Your cheeks heated, Alexia's eyes dropped briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes, “Very important distinction.”

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're naughty.”

You stared at her, then you muttered, “See? This is exactly why I can't stay angry with you.”

Alexia's smile softened, but there was still that glint in her eyes, “Good.”

“Don't look so pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

“You're impossible.”

“And you're still staying.”

Your expression changed immediately, Alexia caught it, the teasing disappeared from her face, replaced by something quieter. You looked around the room again, at your clothes folded into her drawers, your things already occupying little pieces of her space. Then back at her, “Apparently.”

Alexia stepped close enough that her fingers could brush yours, “Apparently,” she agreed.

You glanced down at where your hands nearly touched, then back up, “Still angry.”

“I know.”

“Very.”

“I know.”

You let your eyes drift deliberately over her face, “But,” you added, “I'm reconsidering how angry.”

Alexia's mouth twitched in response, “Come here.”

You blinked, “Why?”

“Because I'm asking nicely.”

That immediately made you suspicious, “That's new.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Do you want to keep arguing?”

You considered it, then stepped forward, Alexia caught you around the waist and pulled you against her. You immediately relaxed, it was irritating. You'd spent the last hour insisting you needed independence, control, boundaries and the right to make your own decisions and apparently all it took to make you forget half of your argument was Alexia's arms around you.

You tucked your face against her shoulder, “I'm still mad.”

“I know.”

“You're still controlling.”

“I know.”

“You're still not allowed to move my stuff without asking.”

A pause, “Fine.”

You lifted your head, “Fine?”

Alexia looked suspiciously agreeable, “Fine.”

“That's it?”

“Yes.”

You studied her, “Why do I feel like I've just been tricked?”

“Because you are paranoid.”

“Because you're a mafia boss.”

Alexia's mouth twitched, “Fair.”

💪🏼

Later, you were stretched across Alexia's bed with a book propped open against your thighs, the house unusually quiet around you.

You'd discovered that being left alone in Alexia's room was surprisingly peaceful. Until there was a quiet knock sounded against the door frame.

You looked up and Misa stood in the doorway, she wasn't looking at you, her gaze was fixed somewhere over your shoulder, expression unreadable, one hand tucked into the pocket of her jacket.

“I need that gun back,” she said quietly.

You carefully closed your book and placed it on the bed, “Right.”

You slipped from beneath the duvet and crossed the room, heading towards the box you'd already memorised the location of.

Misa watched you crouch beside it and lifted the lid and started digging through the contents until your fingers found the place you'd hidden it beneath a pile of your extra makeup.

You pulled the gun free, Misa's eyes immediately dropped to it, you crossed back towards her and held it out grip first.

She took it without a word, checking it automatically before tucking it securely away.

You lingered, “Thank you,” you said eventually.

Misa glanced at you, “For what?”

You gave her a look, “For helping me.” Her expression didn't change, “I know you're not exactly my biggest fan.”

Misa's mouth twitched, “That's one way of putting it.”

You huffed quietly, “Still. Thank you.”

She looked at you for a moment, then her shoulders shifted, some of the stiffness leaving them, “I did it because Jana asked me to.”

You nodded slowly, “Right.”

Misa started to turn, then stopped, her eyes flicked back towards you, “And for Ale.” You looked at her, Misa's expression was firm, almost warning, “Don't make me regret it.”

You swallowed, then nodded, “I won't.”

She gave you one last look before disappearing down the hallway. You stood there for a moment, staring after her, it wasn't exactly acceptance, but considering Misa had once looked at you like she was deciding which part of the ocean she'd dump your body in, you'd take it.

You'd barely made it back onto the bed when footsteps sounded in the hallway. You glanced towards the door Alexia appeared a second later fresh from the gym and, apparently, completely unaware that she was walking into the room looking like that.

Her hair was damp and pushed messily away from her forehead, skin flushed from training, a sheen of sweat still catching across her shoulders and chest. She'd abandoned her shirt somewhere along the way, leaving her in nothing but dark training shorts, her stomach tightening visibly as she moved.

Your eyes dropped then immediately came back up, Alexia caught you, she paused in the doorway, one hand still resting against the frame.

Her eyebrows rose, you stared at her, she stared at you, neither of you said anything, then one corner of Alexia's mouth slowly lifted.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Her eyes narrowed, you picked your book back up with exaggerated concentration, “I'm reading.”

“Mm.”

You could feel her watching you, you tried to read the same sentence, then read it again, and again, absolutely none of it registered.

Alexia walked further into the room, and you hated how acutely aware you suddenly were of every movement. The quiet slap of her bare feet against the floor, the way her abdominal muscles shifted when she reached for the towel she'd left over the back of a chair.

You swallowed, Alexia looked at you again, “You're staring.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I was looking.”

“At my stomach?”

Your eyes snapped to hers she was grinning now, you shut your book, “Don't flatter yourself.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

Alexia tossed the towel onto the chair and came towards the bed, you tried very hard to maintain your dignity. It became significantly more difficult when she stopped directly in front of you. “Are you okay?” she asked, entirely too innocently.

“Perfectly.”

“Your face is red.”

“It's warm.”

Alexia glanced towards the open window, “It's twenty three degrees.”

“Then I'm having a medical emergency.”

That earned a quiet laugh, she leaned slightly closer. You looked up at her, your eyes betraying you once again as they flicked down over her stomach. Alexia caught it again, her smile turned downright smug. “Oh.”

You immediately frowned, “Don't.”

“You like it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“Mm.”

“Alexia.” She laughed, finally reaching down and taking the book from your hands, “Hey.”

“You're not reading.”

“I was.” You opened your mouth, nothing came out. Alexia looked far too pleased with herself, you sighed, falling backwards against the pillows, “Go shower.”

“Why?”

“Because you're sweaty.”

“You weren't complaining five minutes ago.”

Your eyes widened, Alexia's grin sharpened, “You are such a dick.”

She bent down, pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, and straightened again, “Maybe.” Then she walked away.

You watched her go and only once she disappeared into the bathroom did you quietly mutter to yourself, “Those fucking abs with be the death of me.”

You were still staring at the bathroom door when another shadow appeared across the doorway. You looked up, it was Cata, she stopped when she saw you sitting on Alexia's bed, her eyes briefly flicking towards the bathroom before returning to you.

“Where's Ale?”

“In the shower.”

Cata nodded, apparently satisfied, but didn't leave, you stared at her, she stared at you.

“Actually…I'm glad you're here” Cata's eyebrows lifted, you sat up straighter, “I wanted to apologise.”

“For?”

You gave her a flat look, “Don't make me say it.” Cata's mouth twitched, you sighed, “For punching you.”

“It was a fairly weak punch, didn't even realise” Cata's expression remained perfectly straight for approximately two seconds before the smallest smile betrayed her.

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

You looked down at your hands, “I was scared.”

“I know.”

“And you kidnapped me.”

“I was following orders.”

“I know.” You sighed, “Still doesn't mean I should've punched you.”

Cata leaned against the door frame, “You also kicked me.”

“I was panicking!”

“You apologised immediately after that part.” Cata's mouth twitched again

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands, “God.”

“Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you can't punch”

You peered at her through your fingers, “Cata.”

“I'm joking.”

“You're getting funnier.”

“Living with Patri.”

That explained absolutely everything, you lowered your hands, then looked at her properly, “I am genuinely sorry.”

Cata's expression softened, “I know and I'm sorry I dragged you into the house the way I did.” You blinked and she shrugged, “Seemed fair.”

You smiled faintly, “Truce?”

Cata considered it, “Truce.”

You held out your hand she walked over and shook it, the shower suddenly shut off.

You and Cata both looked towards the bathroom, Cata's eyes returned to you, “She'll be out in a minute." You said and, because you apparently couldn't help yourself, you added, “Don't tell the others, but you're my favourite.”

Cata's expression went deadpan, “Lucky me.”

You laughed.

From behind the bathroom door came Alexia's voice, “Hey, brat!” Cata immediately turned towards the door, "Can you come here?"

Cata glanced sideways at you, "You're not going to have sex while I'm still here again are you?"

“Y/N! You still there?” Alexia hollered.

You winced, Cata looked at you, you looked at Cata, but neither of you moved.

Then Cata's mouth twitched, “You've got about three seconds before she comes looking.”

“Traitor.”

“You made me your favourite approximately ten seconds ago.”

“Exactly. Show some loyalty.”

From behind the bathroom door came Alexia again, “Y/N?”

You raised your voice, “Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Cata's eyebrows lifted.

You immediately pointed at her. “Don't.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Your face did.”

Cata's expression remained perfectly blank, then, very quietly, “You should probably go.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You're enjoying this.”

“A little.”

You climbed off the bed, smoothing down your clothes as you headed towards the bathroom.

Behind you, Cata called, “For what it's worth, I am definitely not staying.”

You stopped, slowly turned, Cata was already walking towards the door, “Cata.” She glanced over her shoulder, “Tell Patri nothing.”

That finally got a genuine smile out of her, “No promises.”

“Cata!”

She disappeared into the hallway, you stared after her in betrayal before turning back towards the bathroom.

The door opened just enough for Alexia's head to appear, damp hair pushed back and a towel secured around her.

Her eyes immediately flicked towards the empty doorway, “Was Cata?”

“Left.”

“Why she leave?”

You shrugged, walking closer, “Probably because she was worried we'd have sex while she was still here.”

Alexia stared at you, then her eyebrows rose, “You like the thought of that?”

Your face immediately heated, “Oh, fuck off.”

Alexia's grin appeared, “You and Cata tell each other everything now?”

“Apparently she's my favourite.”

Alexia's expression changed instantly, “Your favourite?”

You realised your mistake, a slow smile spread across her face, you backed up half a step, “Don't.”

“I'm not your favourite?”

“I was being nice.”

“Mm.”

“Don't make it weird.”

Alexia stepped out of the bathroom, towel still wrapped around her, and you immediately found the ceiling fascinating. She noticed, “You're looking again.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“You're literally naked.”

“Not naked and its not anything you haven't seen before”

“Alexia.”

She laughed and you folded your arms, trying desperately to reclaim whatever dignity you'd had before she'd walked into the room.

“Go put clothes on.”

Alexia leaned down until her face was close to yours, “Make me.”

Your mouth parted, you stared at her for a second, then remembered exactly who you were dealing with and immediately pointed towards the wardrobe, “Don't start.”

Alexia laughed, reaching past you for a pair of clothes and you couldn't help smiling, because somehow, impossibly, this was beginning to feel normal. Not the guns or the bodyguards and not the fact that your father's criminal empire and Alexia's had somehow collided spectacularly.

But this, standing in her bedroom while she argued with you half-dressed, your things in her drawer, Alexia calling you brat from the bathroom.

It was domestic in a way that should have terrified you, instead, you found yourself watching her pull a shirt over her head and thinking that maybe you didn't hate it quite as much as you pretended.

💪🏼

By the early evening, Alexia had apparently decided you'd spent enough time inside the house. You were curled up in the corner of the sofa with your book when she appeared in front of you, keys spinning lazily around one finger.

“Get your shoes.”

You looked up, “Why?”

“We're going out.”

Your eyes narrowed immediately, “Where?”

“Beach.”

You glanced towards the windows, “You're taking me to the beach?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Alexia stared at you, you stared back, eventually, she sighed, “Because you've been inside for too long.”

“I've been here for, like, I don't actually know how many days.”

“Exactly.” You shut your book, opened your mouth to argue when she cut you off, “Shoes.”

You rolled your eyes but got up anyway.

Twenty minutes later, you were walking beside Alexia along the beach, the late afternoon sun beginning to soften over the water. She'd deliberately left the usual entourage behind. No Cata hovering nearby, no Misa pretending not to watch every person who came within ten metres of you.

Just you and Alexia.

You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket as your sandals sank slightly into the damp sand, “This is weird.”

Alexia glanced sideways at you, “What?”

“Walking on a beach with a mafia boss.”

She snorted, “You make everything about mafia.”

“You are literally a mafia boss.”

“I'm also a person.”

“Debatable.”

Alexia bumped her shoulder against yours, you stumbled slightly, then shoved her back. She barely moved.

“Show-off.”

“I'm stronger than you.”

“You're also significantly more annoying than me.”

“That isn't possible.”

You looked at her, Alexia looked back, “Fair,” you admitted.

For a while, you walked without speaking, the sea rolled in beside you, rhythmic and steady, and the breeze carried away some of the heaviness that seemed to have settled permanently inside your chest lately.

Alexia didn't interrogate you about what you were thinking about, she simply walked beside you.

Eventually, you glanced at her, “You do this often?”

“Walk?”

“Take people out when they're losing their minds.”

Alexia's mouth curved, “Maybe.”

“Sounds suspiciously like you're admitting I'm losing my mind.”

“You are.”

You shoved her shoulder again, this time she caught your wrist before you could pull away her fingers closed loosely around you.

You looked down, then at her, Alexia didn't let go immediately and neither did you, “You needed to get out,” she said eventually.

Your teasing expression softened, “I was fine.”

“No.” You frowned, Alexia looked out towards the water, “You were sitting in my gym yesterday staring at the ceiling for two hours.”

“That doesn't prove anything.”

“It proves you needed a walk.”

You huffed, “Bossy." Your eyes flicked towards her, Alexia's expression had gone quieter.

She squeezed your fingers once before letting your hand fall free.

For another few minutes, neither of you spoke, then you spotted a stretch of flatter sand ahead and suddenly veered towards it.

Alexia looked at you suspiciously, “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.”

“You're doing something.”

“I'm walking.”

“Wrong.” You grinned, Alexia's eyes narrowed, then you took off running, “Y/N!”

You laughed over your shoulder as you sprinted down the beach, behind you, Alexia swore, you heard her footsteps hit the sand.

“Oh, fuck.”

You ran faster. You weren't even sure where you were going. You just knew you were laughing, genuinely laughing, for the first time in what felt like forever.

Alexia caught you far too easily, an arm hooked around your waist from behind and suddenly your feet were barely touching the ground.

“Cheater!” you shrieked.

“Don't be a brat” Alexia finally set you down, but kept both hands around your waist as you tried to squirm away.

You were breathless, hair blowing across your face, she was smiling, not the dangerous smile, or the one she used when someone challenged her authority.

It was just Alexia, you looked at her for a second, then quietly, “Thank you.”

Her smile faded into something softer, “For what?”

You shrugged, “For getting me out.”

Alexia's hands loosened around you, “You're welcome.”

You looked towards the water, “I needed it.”

“I know.” You glanced at her, she nudged your shoulder, “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Keep walking.”

You groaned dramatically, “More walking?”

Alexia started moving, looking over her shoulder, “Unless you'd rather go home.”

You immediately followed, “Shut up.” Her laugh carried over the sound of the waves.

The walk continued until Alexia spotted something half buried in the sand ahead, she slowed a battered frisbee sat near the edge of the waves, probably abandoned by some family who'd packed up and forgotten it.

Alexia bent down and picked it up, brushing sand from the underside.

You eyed it suspiciously as Alexia's mouth twitched., then she threw the frisbee towards you, you caught it against your chest.

“Go long.”

You stared at her, “Excuse me?”

“Go.” She pointed further down the beach, “Long.”

“You want me to go?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to throw it.”

You looked at the frisbee, then at her, “That's your big plan for getting me out of the house? Dog training?”

Alexia laughed, “Go, brat.”

You rolled your eyes but started walking backwards, “Don't throw it too far.”

“Scared?”

“I'm wearing sandals.”

“Excuses.” You turned and jogged further along the sand, “Ready?” you called.

Alexia lifted her hand, “Go!”

The first throw was terrible, it sailed approximately three metres to her left, she stopped dead and stared at it before Alexia doubled over laughing.

“Shut up! You said go!”

“I meant throw it properly!”

“I did!”

“You absolutely did not!”

Alexia retrieved it wiped at the corner of her eye, “Okay, ready?” This time she threw it properly.

You caught it, a little surprised, you looked down at the frisbee in your hands.

Alexia grinned, “See not that hard?”

“Don't sound so pleased with yourself.” You threw it back and she caught it one handed, “Oh, fuck off.”

“What's wrong?”

“You're annoying.”

“You're jealous.”

“Of your frisbee catching abilities?” You stared at her, then you laughed and somehow, that became the evening. Sometimes one of you caught it cleanly, sometimes the frisbee veered horribly sideways and sent the other of you sprinting through the sand after it.

Eventually, both of you were tired enough that when you'd thrown it, Alexia caught it, then she'd wandered towards you while you wandered towards her, meeting somewhere in the middle before.

You sat down in the sand, Alexia dropped beside you, stretching her legs out in front of her. You were both breathing harder than you should have been for something so stupid.

You looked sideways at her, “You know this is ridiculous.”

Alexia nodded solemnly, “Very.”

You picked up the frisbee and placed it on her stomach, “Congratulations.”

“For?”

“Best evening I've had in ages.”

Alexia went quiet, you immediately regretted saying it, but then she looked at you, and there was no teasing in her expression, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

She picked up the frisbee and gently nudged it against your shoulder, “Again?”

You smiled, “Obviously.” You launched the frisbee at her as soon as you stopped jogging away and turned, but this time she wasn't ready.

It hit her squarely in the stomach, Alexia doubled over, you froze, then your face crumpled, “I'm sorry.”

She slowly straightened, you were already laughing, “You did that on purpose.”

“I didn't!”

“You're laughing.”

“Because you look ridiculous!”

Alexia stared at you for a long moment, then she smiled, “Oh, you are in trouble.”

You immediately backed away, “No.”

Alexia took one step towards you.

You took one backwards, “Alexia.” Another step. “Don't.”

She started walking faster, you turned and ran, her laughter followed you down the beach, “Y/N!”

“Leave me alone!”

“You hit me!”

“It was an accident!”

“You're going to pay for that brat!”

You were laughing too hard to run properly now, the sound carrying out over the water as Alexia chased you through the sand. You didn't get far. You'd barely made it another twenty metres before footsteps started gaining on you, the soft thud of Alexia's trainers getting louder against the sand.

You glanced over your shoulder which was a big mistake, Alexia was already grinning, “Oh, fuck.”

You tried to accelerate, it didn't help, an arm wrapped around your waist from behind and hauled you backwards, your feet skidding uselessly through the sand as you burst into laughter.

“Alexia!”

“Got you.”

“Cheater!”

“You ran away!”

“You were threatening me!”

“You hit me with a frisbee!”

“It was an accident!”

Alexia turned you around, keeping an arm firmly around your waist as you tried to wriggle free, “You think this is funny?”

You looked at her, her hair was completely dishevelled from running, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling with exertion, you grinned, “A little.” Her eyes narrowed, you immediately changed tactics, “Okay. i'm very sorry.”

“Not believable.”

You put your hands against her shoulders, trying to look suitably remorseful, “I feel terrible.”

“You don't.”

“I do.”

“You're smiling.”

“It's nervous laughter.”

Alexia's expression remained unimpressed, you stared at her for a beat, then your eyes dropped to her stomach and back up.

Alexia noticed, “Don't try to distract me by batting those eye lashes.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

You stepped closer anyway, sliding your arms loosely around her neck, “Okay,” you murmured. “Maybe a little.” Alexia's stern expression began to crack, you leaned in, your voice dropping conspiratorially, “I'll kiss it better when we get home.” Alexia blinked, you smiled sweetly, “Your poor little stomach.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “You hit me... again”

“Accidentally this time”

“With a frisbee.”

“A very dangerous frisbee apparently.”

Alexia stared at you before she laughed, shaking her head as she tightened her arm around your waist and pulled you closer. You tipped your face up towards hers her gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, you caught it and your smile softened.

For a second, the teasing disappeared, leaving only the two of you standing in the middle of an empty beach, close enough that you could feel the warmth of her body against yours.

Then Alexia nudged her nose against yours, “Come on.”

You frowned, “Where?”

“Home.”

You smiled, “Why?”

She gave you a look, “You promised to kiss it better.”

You burst out laughing, “Alexia!”

“What?”

“You're ridiculous.”

“You made the promise.”

“I was joking!”

“Too late.”

She released you and started walking back towards the car, tossing the frisbee casually in your direction.

You caught it, “Are you seriously keeping the frisbee?”

Alexia glanced back, “Obviously.”

“Why?”

“Evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“That you're dangerous.”

You laughed again, jogging to catch up, “You're such a dick.”

“And you're kissing my stomach better.”

“Shut up.”

Alexia's grin widened, you bumped your shoulder into hers as you walked beside her and she bumped yours back before her arm slid around your shoulders in an apparent attempt to shelter you from the wind.

💪🏼

By the time you got back to the estate, the lingering warmth of the beach had been replaced by the familiar quiet hum of Alexia's house.

You'd barely made it through the entrance before Alexia's attention was pulled by Misa, they were whispering before she looked at you, “I need to sign some documents.”

You frowned, “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“But you promised we'd go home and—”

Alexia's eyebrows lifted, you stopped yourself, she looked far too pleased, “Go sit somewhere,” she said, “I'll be ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes,” you repeated suspiciously.

“Yes.”

“You swear?”

“Brat.” she said in a warning tone before she disappeared towards her office.

You tried to be patient, you genuinely did, for approximately seven minutes, but you found yourself standing outside Alexia's office, staring at the closed door.

So you opened it.

Alexia was behind her desk, surrounded by paperwork, glasses perched low on her nose as she read through a document. Misa was sitting opposite her, leaning back in the chair with her arms folded.

Alexia looked up, her eyes immediately found you, then her mouth curved, “Can I help you, brat?”

Your eyes moved towards Misa, “Out.”

Misa's eyebrows shot up, “You can't tell me what to do.”

“Funnily enough, I just did.” You pointed towards the door, “Out.”

Misa stared at you then at Alexia, who hadn't said a word, she simply watched you, one eyebrow slightly raised, her attention when to Misa as she waited for instruction, Alexia gave the smallest nod.

Misa sighed and stood, “Unbelievable.”

She walked past you, the door clicked shut behind her, you turned back from watching her go Alexia was already spinning her chair around to face you properly.

She removed her glasses and placed them carefully on the desk, “What are you playing at?”

“Shut up.” You crossed the room, Alexia barely had time to register what you were doing before you leaned down and kissed her.

For one beat, she remained completely still, then her hand caught your waist, you smiled against her mouth.

Alexia pulled back just far enough to look at you, “You waited seven minutes.”

“Eight.”

“Oh wow. Eight?”

“I was being patient.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You interrupted a meeting.”

“I was just going to ask you how long you’d be, but you were wearing glasses.” Alexia blinked, you gestured vaguely towards her face, “The glasses.” She stared at you, and you shrugged, “They did things.”

A slow smile appeared, “Things?”

“Don't make me explain.”

“I think you should.”

“No.”

Alexia leaned back in her chair, looking unbearably smug, “So you came barging into my office because you liked my glasses?”

“I came into your office because you abandoned me.”

“For eight minutes.”

“An eternity.”

“You're dramatic.”

“And you're wearing some very sexy glasses.” Alexia's mouth twitched, you leaned down again, stealing another quick kiss, “Now stop working.”

She stared at you, “You're giving me orders in my own office?”

“Yes.”

“Brat.”

“Yes, boss.”

Her expression changed immediately, you saw it, that little flicker in her eyes, you straightened slowly. Alexia reached for her glasses again, “Go sit down.”

You frowned, “Why?”

“Because now I'm going to finish these documents.”

Your mouth fell open, “You're punishing me?”

“No.” She put her glasses back on, “I'm making you wait.”

You stared at her in disbelief, “That's worse.”

Alexia smiled and picked up her pen, you remained standing there out of pure defiance, she didn't look up at you once, “Are you going to sit?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

You crossed your arms, Alexia began reading, you waited all of about 30 seconds before you leaned over the desk and kissed her cheek.

Alexia didn't even look up, “Brat.” You kissed her other cheek, “Y/N.”

You smiled, “I'm bored.”

“Then go away.”

You gasped dramatically, Alexia finally looked at you over the top of her glasses. You stared at one another, then you smiled, “Make me.”

Alexia simply looked away and began flicking through the papers in front of her, being bored you were curious what she kept in her desk drawers, you had barely pulled it open before Alexia’s hand silently reached across and pushed it shut.

You opened a different drawer, Alexia closed it, “Stop.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I'm bored.”

“You have a book.”

“I've finished my book.”

“Then find another.”

You opened the drawer beneath it, Alexia's chair rolled backwards slightly as she stared at you in disbelief. “Brat.”

You grinned and opened the next one, her hand shot out to push it shut, you tried another and the same happened again.

“Do you have some sort of drawer closing condition?” you asked.

“I have a condition where I don't want you going through my things.”

“You're very controlling.”

“You're very nosy.”

“I prefer curious.”

“I prefer you over there.” She pointed towards the sofa.

You ignored her, naturally.

You moved to the other side of the desk, where there was another set of drawers you'd somehow missed. Alexia noticed your attention shift and immediately straightened.

“Y/N.” You pulled the handle, “Don't.” her voice was firmer than you’d ever heard it that alone made you pause.

Slowly, your eyes travelled from the drawer to her then back again, your mouth curled, you pulled it open.

Alexia's eyes closed, “Fuck's sake.”

You looked down, then blinked, there was a moment where your brain appeared to stop processing entirely, because tucked neatly inside were several sex toys that absolutely did not belong beside Alexia's stationery, spare chargers and business documents.

Your eyebrows climbed, “Close it.”

You looked back down, “Alexia.”

“Close. It.”

Your grin widened, “Are these—”

“Don't.”

You looked at her, “You can't just put a drawer like that in your office and expect me not to investigate.”

“I can when it's my office.”

“You have toys in your desk.”

Alexia's jaw tightened, “Apparently.”

You stared at her for another second before the realisation hit you, a slow, wicked smile spread across your face. You reached in again, this time palming the little red bullet and then, when she was busy with her pen, slipped it fast into the pocket of your hoodie. You closed the drawer with an exaggerated innocence, and turned away before Alexia could read your face.

"Fine," you said, a wounded dignity, "I'll go sit down."

"Good girl," Alexia muttered, not even glancing up as she signed a form with a sharp, satisfied flourish. You watched her for a moment, the lean tension in her forearm, the focus of her brow, the way her lips pursed lightly when she was annoyed but also entertained. She was so intent on her task she didn't notice you unlacing your shoes, slipping out of them, and then haphazardly wriggling out of your jeans. They landed in a heap beside the sofa, followed moments later by your underwear.

You flopped onto the sofa in just your hoodie and drawing your knees up under you and propping one heel onto the cushions, the other on the low table. For a moment you let yourself lounge there, deliberately letting your bare thigh catch the light, then you surreptitiously reached into the pocket and flicked the switch.

A soft whirring started up, quiet but insistent. You positioned yourself, so Alexia had a clear view of your bare cunt framed by black hoodie, then let your head loll back, eyes heavy lidded, as you pressed the toy to your clit. First, gentle, then harder. Your breath stuttered, and you made a point of exhaling just loud enough to carry over the sound of her pen.

Alexia looked up, her pen stalled halfway through a word, her eyes moved from your face to the arch of your hips, then down to your hand, and the little bullet that buzzed red and obscene against your skin.

You didn’t say a word you just grinned, then let your knees fall wider.

The two of you held the look, hers, sharp and speculative, yours, molten and entirely without shame. You pressed the toy harder, hips canting, and watched Alexia’s mouth go tight with a feral hunger you recognised from other private nights.

You moaned, quiet, but enough, you bit your lip, but not hard enough to muffle the noise, the small, involuntary gasps that built in your chest as the toy did its job.

Alexia just watched you.

She made absolutely no move. Didn't even bother to disguise the low, almost predatory interest tightening her jaw. She simply sat there, pen in hand, a neat stack of legal papers in front of her, and watched the way your thighs trembled and your mouth broke open around each sound.

You felt the flush creep up your neck at the intensity of her focus. The toy buzzed mercilessly, skating over your clit, and you kept your eyes trained on her, refusing to look away.

The seconds stretched, Alexia leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest, and you noticed, in the periphery of your haze, how she stilled completely. Every breath of hers seemed to synchronise with every tiny shudder of your hips.

You pressed the bullet down harder, desperate for the release but also for the way her gaze seemed to strip you, cataloguing every reaction. Your knees dropped open so wide your hips ached, and you let the hoodie fall back, exposing your chest.

Alexia’s eyes followed, slow and deliberate, taking in every inch, then returning to your hand. Still, she didn't move, didn't say a word. Not even when you started to whimper, soft, helpless sounds you couldn’t hold back even if you wanted to.

You came fast, embarrassingly so, the tension snapping in your thighs and belly, you clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your cry, but it only made the sound sharper, more desperate.

When you finally looked up, Alexia’s expression was unchanged, only her eyes had gone darker, her jaw flexed hard enough you thought it might snap.

You doubled down, dragging the toy over your clit again, not caring about the oversensitivity, just needing the way she watched you come apart for her, again and again.

After the third time, your head lolled to the side, and you managed a ragged laugh, "You’re not going to stop me?" you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia arched a single eyebrow, "Why would I stop you?" Her tone was cool, measured, and it made you shiver even more.

You let your legs fall closed, slowly, knees knocking together as the aftershocks rippled through you. The toy slipped from your fingers you stared at the ceiling and tried to remember when you'd last felt so completely unguarded.

Alexia let you lie there for another long moment, then she rose with slow, deliberate movements and rounded the desk, coming to stand over you. She studied you the way a scientist might study a new, unpredictable element.

You felt her gaze on every part of your body. She bent down, bracing a hand on the armrest of the sofa, and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

"You are," she murmured, "the most infuriating woman I've ever met."

You grinned, cupping her face to kiss her again, a slow drag of lips and tongue that made her shiver even as she tried to keep her composure. You loved that you could do this to her, that no matter what armour she wore into the world, you could always find the seam. She let you lead for a moment, hands braced on either side of the sofa, then broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, her eyes flicking to the door as though remembering where you were.

She looked at you, daring you with her silence, but you only grinned and patted the narrow lip of the sofa next to your thigh. "Sit," you commanded, and you liked the way her mouth twitched, the moment of real calculation behind her eyes before she decided to humour you.

Alexia sat, legs splayed wide, the motion careless but deliberate. She regarded you like you were a puzzle she was already halfway through solving. You hauled yourself upright, swung your bare thighs over her lap, and straddled one of her legs, all while holding her gaze.

You trailed your hands up the planes of her torso pushing her shirt up, feather light at first, drawing your nails over the skin of her abs. You leaned in, planting a kiss just below her ribs, then another, and another, a trail of open mouthed devotion that made her inhale sharply and close her eyes for half a second.

You licked her, slow, dragging your tongue over the salt on her skin, the vibration of your next words humming against her stomach. "Told you I'd kiss it better," you murmured, and she huffed a laugh, but her hands were already coming up to frame your jaw, steadying you as you worshipped every inch of her.

You bit her, just enough to make her tense, and she slid her hand down to the back of your neck, gripping hard. You liked the pressure, how it made you feel claimed and anchored and electric all at once.

Without warning, you slipped your hand beneath the elastic waistband of her shorts, and she shivered as your knuckles made contact with her skin. You grinned, pleased at how she twitched when you palmed her through her underwear, then dipped your fingers lower, finding her already wet and wanting.

You slid your fingers over her, slow at first, then with more intent, and Alexia's head fell back against the sofa, throat bared, her grip on your neck tightening.

You watched her face, saw the way control and need was in her expression, and you wanted to see what it would take to make her break. You kissed lower, peeling down the waistband of her shorts with your teeth, exposing the trail of muscle and the tight cut of her hips. She let you, didn't even pretend to resist as you stripped her, then spread her legs even wider, giving you full access.

You dropped to your knees, hands braced on her thighs, and pressed your mouth to where she was hottest. Your tongue flicked over her clit, gentle, then harder, and you heard the way her breath choked off in her chest. She tried to bite back the sounds, to keep her composure, but you knew her now, knew exactly how to make her lose it.

You licked her, slow circles at first, then fast, then slow again, never settling, never letting her predict you. You slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just so, and she bucked into your mouth, cursing softly in Catalan. Her hands threaded into your hair, not guiding, just holding, as if she needed the anchor.

You ate her like you were starving. You wanted her undone. You wanted to see the way her eyes rolled up, whites flashing, then how she pulled you closer, desperate for more.

You sucked her clit between your lips and she groaned, hand fisting in your hair. You pushed your fingers deeper, stretching her open, and she pushed herself down onto them, riding your hand with a single minded greed that you’d never seen from her before.

“More,” she said, voice gone to gravel, and you gave her more, working your hand faster, tongue now relentless on her clit. She broke, sudden as a gunshot, her body going rigid, her thighs clamping your head so tight you thought you might suffocate.

The sound she made was almost a growl, and you licked her through it, easing her down until she was shaking. You looked up at her, chin wet, and Alexia just stared at you, wordless, as if she genuinely couldn’t believe it.

There was something close to awe in her expression, the disbelief of someone who thought they’d seen everything and then found out they’d known nothing at all.

You crawled up her lap and kissed her, slow, until her hands came up to catch your jaw and hold you there. She kissed you back, stealing the air from your lungs, then bit your bottom lip, hard enough to sting. “You’re a brat,” she breathed.

You grinned, smug and tired, “You love it.”

Alexia shook her head, whether in exasperation or devotion you couldn’t tell. She held you there, her hands at your waist, her heart hammering as wild as yours. For a long minute, neither of you moved, the only sound the distant tick of the office clock and the slow return of your breathing to something halfway normal.

Eventually, you disentangled, collapsed beside her on the sofa, legs draped over her lap. She reached over, drew a lazy finger along the curve of your thigh, then down to the still trembling muscle just above your knee. She said nothing, but the gesture was so intimate, so ordinary, that your chest ached with it.

She soon was back to her feet, putting her bottoms back on, picking up your jeans folding them into a compact coil. She set them on the edge of the sofa, then reached for the blanket draped over the backrest and covered your shivering legs with clinical, almost maternal, efficiency. Her hand found your cheek, thumb tracing the flush there, before she kissed your forehead. "I'll be as quick as I can with what I have to do" she said, her voice both soft and matter of fact, "I'm just covering you in case someone comes in."

You hummed, already half gone, and pulled one of the cushions under your head, "Okay," you said, but your voice was a satin thread, barely audible.

She pulled the blanket up another inch, then turned back to her desk, resuming her last posture as if nothing had happened. You basked in the slack limbed, post orgasmic haze, your body humming, your brain a gentle soup with slow, lazy bubbles rising to the surface.

You only realised you’d drifted off when the door opened and Misa walked in, nose wrinkling faintly. She looked at you, then looked at Alexia, then back at you.

Neither of them acknowledged the situation. Not the blanket, not the way your skin glowed across your collarbones, not the way Alexia’s jaw had set into an iron line.

Misa sat, she shuffled a few folders from her bag and passed them across the desk. She was wearing a new jacket, something black and fitted, but you couldn’t focus on anything more than the tiredness coming over you.

You let the women’s voices wash over you, that strange, low register they both used for business. It was the first time you’d ever heard Alexia talk about crime, about the logistics of moving things, about who was unhappy, about the risks and the vessels and the names you’d never spoken aloud but had always known in the back of your mind, but you didn’t care.

You floated in and out, hearing only fragments. You were completely spent, boneless, your only thought that this must be what trust felt like. The world turning to chaos around you, and you, utterly relaxed, not even pretending you could do anything about it.

At some point Misa started talking about your father, or at least his men, her gaze flicked to you and she paused, something almost like concern crossing her face before she flicked her attention back to Alexia.

“She’ll be fine,” Alexia said, and you couldn’t tell if she meant you or herself. There was a new warmth in her voice, a bone deep steadiness that hadn’t been there before.

You drifted. A minute passed, then five, then perhaps an hour. The light changed in the room, leaking from gold to blue to the first shadows of dusk. You heard the shuffle of paper, the click of a lighter, the way Misa sometimes punctuated her sentences with the tap of a pen or the snap of her knuckles.

You didn’t realise you feel asleep, you stirred when something shifted beneath you.

For a few seconds you didn't understand why you were moving, then you felt an arm beneath your knees and another supporting your back.

You blinked sleepily, Alexia had you bundled up in the blanket like some oversized parcel, your cheek pressed against her shoulder as she carried you towards the office door.

“Alexia,” you mumbled.

“Shh.” Your eyes barely opened, before they shut again.

At the doorway, Misa was holding it open. She glanced down at you, then at Alexia, “You really carrying her?” Alexia gave her a look, Misa immediately looked elsewhere, “Didn't say anything.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at her, “Traitor.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Don't tell me what to do.”

Misa's mouth twitched, Alexia adjusted you higher against her chest, and your eyes fluttered shut again almost immediately.

“You're very brave when you're half unconscious,” Alexia murmured.

“I'm always brave.”

“Of course.”

The hallway passed in a blur of warm lights and familiar walls. You vaguely registered Alexia's footsteps on the stairs, the steady rhythm strangely comforting after the long day.

Your fingers curled loosely into the fabric of her shirt, “Where are we going?”

“Bed.”

You felt her carry you the rest of the way upstairs, through the bedroom door and towards the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you as she lowered you carefully onto it, you immediately tried to curl back into the blanket.

Alexia pulled it properly over you, tucking it around your shoulders with an attention to detail that made your sleepy brain warm.

You cracked one eye open, “Are you staying?”

She paused, then her expression softened, “Yeah, brat.”

Your eye closed again, “Good.”