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Three hundred and eight

Leah Williamson × Teen!Reader

6.4k words

Summary: After a big win you decide to celebrate with your friends at a club. Only that some things go wrong. So you end up getting sober on your captain's couch.

Warnings: Teenage alcohol use. Self-doubt, feelings of being inferior. Abandoned drunk teen.

It's 6.4k words long

Masterlist

The match still buzzed in your head long after you got home. It had been intense. But then again. A London derby always. You were a gunner through and through. Joined the Arsenal Academy at the youngest age possible and got to the senior team almost a year ago at just 15… Now you are 16 and a constant at both Arsenal games and a recent addition to the lionesses team as well. For now just as a sub every now and then but at 16 you were still very proud of yourself. Your boots were still drying in the hallway, the faint smell of grass clinging to your jacket, and you were curled up on your bed scrolling through Instagram when your phone lit up.

Mia [Classmate]: You coming out tonight?

You frowned a tiny bit. You never went out. It wasn't really your thing for one. Usually you'd be too tired to even consider it. And then there was the press, who'd love it if you did shit like this. Out?

Another message dropped in, then another.

Jay: Club on Shoreditch High Street. We can get in. Come celebrate, Lionessssss.

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. Sixteen. Arsenal. Lioness. It still felt like a costume you were trying on, something that fit too big. The idea of clubbing sounded reckless, wrong, but their words pushed. You didn't really fit in with the girls at the club. They didn't ask you to hang out like this when they included you. It was always like a movie or game night.

Mia: Don’t be boring. You’ve got the name. They’ll let us straight through. Free drinks if you’re there.

Your stomach twisted. You knew what they meant: you’d be the golden ticket. A girl in the England squad, even just called up, was worth VIP wristbands, smiles from bouncers, and maybe a few rounds “on the house.” You knew that, you had heard the older girls joke about it often enough. Especially at a club like the one they wanted to attend… Still, the thought of sitting at home while they laughed without you was worse. You wanted to feel normal. Just once.

You typed: Okay. I’ll come.

The group chat exploded with celebratory emojis.

Twenty minutes later, you found yourself in the back of an Uber, makeup smeared on in a rush, jacket too thin for the night air. Your knee bounced nervously as you checked your phone again.

Mia had texted: Bring your ID. And maybe a card. Just in case.

The way she added that last part made your throat dry, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you stared out the window, the city lights blurring past, and told yourself this was fine.

This was what girls your age did. Right?

The bass hit your chest the moment you stepped inside. Lights strobed across the dance floor, the air thick with perfume and sweat. It was nothing like the calm, clinical floodlights of the Emirates, it felt dangerous, like you’d stepped into a world you weren’t meant for. Your eyes darted around quickly. It was a mass of people. Not as many as fit in the stadium of course but still a lot.

“Come on!” Mia yelled over the music, grabbing your wrist. The bouncer had waved you straight through with barely a glance at your ID, he’d grinned when he saw your name. “Lioness, right? This way, VIP upstairs.”

Your stomach dropped. She’d said it out loud. Everyone in earshot had heard. Everyone had turned around. Even if women's football wasn't as popular as men's football. It was popular enough for people to know about the Lionesses.

You followed anyway, heart hammering as you were ushered into a cordoned-off section, leather sofas and a glossy table waiting. Before you’d even sat down, Jay shoved a glass into your hand. It was a drink you didn't recognize. Definitely not the Guinness you had tried when Katie brought it to celebrate, she had let you sip when Leah wasn't watching. And it also wasn't the champagne you had been allowed a glass from after you won the Champions League with Arsenal.

“First round… cheers to our very own superstar!”

You blinked down at the drink. Pink, sweet-smelling, ice clinking against the glass. You’d never sipped anything with a higher percentage… and definitely not without your mum’s approval, but refusing now felt impossible. You were already here and they were just trying to include you. Especially after you had been so difficult with meeting up in the last few months. They were just trying to make you feel normal. It was normal to try harder alcohol at this age. Nobody would hate you for it.

You forced a smile, raised the glass, and let the syrupy liquid burn its way down. It wasn’t awful, at first. Too sweet, like fizzy juice with a strange aftertaste. By the time they pressed a second into your hand, your head was already lighter than it should be. You tried to remind yourself of Katie's stories. You perched at the edge of the sofa, clutching your jacket tighter, watching Mia and the others disappear to the dance floor in a blur of bodies and flashing lights. You felt too weird to dance and too tired. God you were so tired, way too tired to be here. Time slipped strangely. They’d tumble back in, breathless and laughing, swipe another drink off the tray, pose for a few selfies with you squeezed awkwardly in the middle… and then vanish again. No one asked if you were okay. No one noticed the way your cheeks burned, how your stomach turned after the second cocktail. If they noticed they definitely didn't care. To them you weren't a friend or a human you just were a way to open doors to VIP stuff and alcohol.

The music was too loud. It probably wasn't louder than at the Champions League parade, but it felt louder. So much louder. Probably because you were indoors and because you had drunk some cocktails. The crowd pressed too close. You felt smaller with every minute that passed.

By the third time they left you alone at the table, you realized they weren’t really here with you. They were here because of you… and that was the only reason they even thought of bringing you along. The second the realization hit you’d never felt lonelier.

You pushed your way through the crowd toward the bathroom, clutching your bag to your chest. Your head spun with each step, the cocktails sloshing uneasily in your stomach. You had been so stupid. After the game had ended you went straight home… and then straight here. You had burned a lot of calories and then didn't eat and gotten drunk. So of course you felt the alcohol so immediately and hard.The fluorescent bathroom lights were too bright, too sharp, and for a second you just gripped the sink, staring at your reflection.

Your mascara had smudged at the corners. Your cheeks were flushed. You didn’t look like a footballer, or a Lioness, or anything close to the strong, composed player the media called you. You looked like a kid in the wrong place. Like you were playing dress up, desperately trying to fit in somewhere. This wasn't you. It probably never would be you.

You splashed water on your face, muttered “pull it together,” and stepped back out into the thundering music.

Only when you reached the VIP section, the table was empty.

No jackets. No half-finished drinks. No Mia. No Jay. No one.

Your chest tightened. You scanned the dance floor, the bar, even craned your neck toward the smoking area. Nothing. You walked a quick round just checking if you saw them somewhere. Maybe outside just having a smoke or something… but no. No sight of them anywhere.

“Excuse me—” you forced yourself toward the bar, gripping the counter to keep steady. Both to steady yourself from alcohol and second to steady yourself from passing out and scaring the poor guy. “The people I was with… did you see them?”

The bartender barely looked up as he polished a glass. “Your friends? They left about ten minutes ago.”

Left. The word slammed into you harder than any tackle.

You fumbled for your phone, your hands suddenly shaking. *Where are you guys?* you typed. Then, a minute later: *Wait for me. Please.*

The message ticked as delivered. Then as seen. But you didn't get a reply.

You quickly send another text. Then another. All of them got the blue tick marks, all of them read. Still nothing. Your throat closed up. The music was too loud, the lights too harsh, your skin prickling with heat and fear. The bar stool wobbled under you as you sat, trying to breathe, trying not to cry. Your hands clenched in the skirt you were wearing as you felt panic set in and bile rise up in your throat. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to have fun, just do a few stupid things with your friends. Not be left all alone in a club the first time you went out for drinks.

You were sixteen, alone, slightly drunk, and stranded in a club you didn’t even know the name of. And for the first time that night, you realized exactly how young you still were. Even if you didn't feel that way usually. Usually you were basically grown up, amongst grown ups. No room for messing up and being silly. So you pretended. But in this moment you felt small. Small and miserable.

Your hands shook as you shoved your card across the counter. The bartender didn’t blink at the total £308, but your stomach dropped so hard you thought you might be sick. Like yes, you did make money from being a soccer player and for a girl your age you had a big chunk of savings. But over 300 pounds… It was a lot. You didn't really feel comfortable spending that much. Especially on people who had just left you. Three hundred. For drinks you hadn’t even touched. For people who weren’t even here.

The receipt crumpled in your fist as you stumbled back to the corner of the lounge, curling into one of the empty chairs like a child hiding from the world. The club around you spun in neon and bass, your head pounding harder with every beat. You clearly were a lightweight, but maybe it was also the fact that you had just played a big game and hadn't even eaten after that. You did remember Katie telling you about her escapades and how she once got drunk on an empty stomach… you felt stupid even more than before.

You fumbled for your phone. 6% battery. Of course you hadn't had time to recharge it between the game and coming here. You barely had time to change.

“Mum.” you whispered before you remembered, she was away, out of the country, unreachable for days. Your chest seized. Tears blurred your vision. You couldn’t breathe properly, gasping, dragging in air that never seemed enough. Panic made your hands clumsy, scrolling through contacts until your thumb landed on a name you’d never dared call like this.

Leah.

It felt wrong. She was your captain for England and vice captain at Arsenal. But you knew she'd pick up and help. She always would. She was Leah after all. But you also knew she'd be so pissed at you. Going out alone at night, after a big game. Without a trusted adult. She'd probably tell you off for being so stupid. But what choice did you have? Stay here with an empty phone?

So you hit dial. The ringing tone filled your ears, too long, too loud, until…

“Hello?” Her voice, warm, familiar. Then sharper. “Y/N? It’s late…are you okay?”

The sob burst out before you could stop it. “L-Leah -” You were choking on the words, hiccupping breaths. “I… I don’t— I’m— they’re gone, I don’t know what to do, please-”

“Hey, hey…breathe for me.” Leah’s tone changed instantly, all the captain's authority wrapped in something softer. You could hear muffled voices in the background, maybe a laugh, but then the sound of a door shutting. She was focused only on you now. “Where are you? Tell me where you are.”

You tried, but it came out garbled, lost in sobs. “I… paid—three hundred—and I can’t—Leah I can’t—” You were too lost in the fear and anxiety to think straight. You knew what happened to girls like you, that had been stupid. You loved true crime. How many times had you asked yourself why she went out with them? It's obvious they weren't her friends. And now it happened to you. “Y/N. Look at something near you. A sign. A street. Anything. Tell me what it says.” Leah said, her tone now sharper, stricter. She was trying to get you to focus on something so she could find you.

You forced your eyes up, blinking at the glowing exit sign near the stairs. A poster on the wall…Eclipse Club, Shoreditch.

“Eclipse.” You managed, breath ragged. “Shoreditch. My phone’s dying…I -”

“Good girl.” Leah said quickly, steady and grounding. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you, okay? Don’t move. Just keep the phone by your ear.”

“I’m scared.” You whispered, voice breaking. “I don’t want to be here—”

“You won’t be for long.” She promised. There was another voice in the background — maybe her girlfriend? You knew she had a girlfriend but you hadn't met her yet. The voice was soft but urgent, asking what was happening. Leah answered quickly, but her voice stayed low, soothing you. “I’ve got you. Just hold on. I’m coming.”

You curled tighter into the chair, phone pressed to your ear, clinging to her voice like it was the only solid thing in the spinning room. The barkeeper glanced at you worried. He had seen this too many times. Young people get stuck in a bar after making a mistake coming in the first place… at least you had called someone. Many other girls ended up not doing that and ended up in way worse situations.

And for the first time since you’d stepped into the club, you believed you might be okay. Leah was coming. She'd be mad, but she'd come and get you and you'd be safe. Even if Leah would be mad you would be okay.

The phone had died somewhere between Leah’s last “keep talking” and your next sob. The black screen felt like the world closing in. You curled tighter into yourself, jacket pulled around your shoulders, knees tucked to your chest. Music thudded through the walls, every beat rattling your already frayed nerves. The club air was too hot, too heavy, and your face was damp with tears. The alcohol still had a hold on you and you just felt miserable as your anxious mind spiraled. What if Leah didn't come? Would someone help you? Would one of those disgusting men come over and hurt you? You had seen episodes of criminal minds where it happened like this… deep down you cursed your friends for every showing you crime shows on National Camp. Now everything felt scary.

Then a shadow fell across you and immediately you flinched. You were too drunk to get who it was at first. So tears sprung to your eyes and you looked up scared.

“Y/N L/N?” The bouncer’s deep voice cut through the chaos. You blinked up at him, startled. His expression softened as he crouched down slightly. “There’s someone here to pick you up. She said you'd be waiting here.”

You hesitated, confusion fogging through the alcohol and panic. Then you saw them, Leah, pushing past the velvet rope, her coat half-buttoned over the black top she’d worn before you called. Next to her a girl, really pretty with nice curls, clearly that must be the girlfriend. You were pretty sure Leah said her name is Elle. Anyways even though you had never met her, she was right behind Leah, concern written all over her delicate features.

“Here.” the bouncer said gently, reaching out a hand. “Come on, let’s get you outside.”

Your legs barely worked, but you stumbled up, wiping at your eyes with a shaking hand. Leah was there in two strides, slipping her arm firmly around you, steadying you before you could fall. Immediately you clung to her.

“Got you.” she murmured, pulling you close, her voice low but fierce.

Elle hovered, handing over a bottle of water from her bag. Her eyes flicked over your tear-streaked face, the smudged mascara, the way you swayed on your feet. She didn’t say anything, just gave Leah a look that said ‘we’ll talk later, but right now this kid needs us.’

Outside, the air was cold and biting, but then again it was late fall in London. It still felt like a relief after the stifling heat inside. You shivered violently, clinging tighter to Leah’s coat as she wrapped it around you.

“Phone’s dead, yeah?” She asked quietly. You nodded miserably, words stuck in your throat. You looked so tiny and scared as she held you tucked to her side. It was easy to forget that you were only 16 sometimes since you acted so mature. But right now you looked so tiny and miserable that it was obvious that you were still just a stupid teenager. Leah sighed and squeezed your side. “Alright. Doesn’t matter. You called me. That’s what matters.”

Elle gently brushed hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. We’ve got you.” It took you by surprise but you were too drunk to argue. Leah trusted her and you trusted Leah so you didn't care much.

The sobs started again, quieter this time, wracking your chest as Leah guided you toward the car waiting at the curb. You could barely walk straight, your stomach churning, but her arm was solid around your shoulders. She helped you climb into the backseat where Elle slipped in after you. Leah got into the driver's seat and started to drive.

And even through the tears, even through the dizzy haze… the pure fear and anxiety was slowly falling off. You finally weren’t alone anymore.

The apartment door clicked shut behind you and for the first time that night the noise of the city faded away. It was quiet, safe, the faint smell of candles and laundry lingering in the air.

You had never been in Leah's apartment. Why would you have been here? But from what you could see it was nice. A cozy home. It made sense for someone like her to live there.

Leah guided you straight to the sofa, steady but gentle, lowering you down like you might break.

“Stay there.” She said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. Her jaw was tight, but her eyes stayed warm. “Don’t move, yeah? I’ll get you some water.” You nodded numbly, your head heavy, the world still tilting slightly under your feet. Your cheeks burned with shame.God you felt so embarrassed, you're only sixteen, drunk, a mess on your captain’s sofa. She'd probably tell you off and tell the other girls who then all would make fun of you.

Elle appeared a moment later, setting a glass of water on the table before crouching in front of you. “Sip this, love.” she said, coaxing the glass into your hands. “Slow, little sips.” The cool liquid steadied you, though your hands trembled as you drank.

Leah returned from the kitchen with a plate. “Bit of bread.” She explained, setting it beside you. “Soak some of that up… did you even have something to eat after the game?” When you shook your head a bit she sighed. But she didn't say anything yet.

You took a bite obediently, chewing without much taste, your throat still raw from crying.

Then Elle pressed something soft into your lap, makeup wipes and a fluffy towel. “Can I?” she asked gently, meeting your eyes first. It was sweet, especially considering you felt absolutely disgusting and probably looked like a fucking Panda.

You managed the smallest nod.

She crouched closer, her touch feather-light as she swept the wipe across your cheeks, careful not to tug too hard. Black smudges stained the cloth as she worked, her movements tender, patient. “There we go.” She murmured, as if you were porcelain. “Let’s get all this off.”

Leah sank onto the armrest beside you, one hand resting protectively on the back of the sofa, keeping watch. She didn’t speak at first, letting Elle finish, but her presence was solid, grounding. Elle needed a lot of wipes before you were finally clean again. But when she finally pulled the towel away, your skin felt clean, cool. She smiled softly. “Better.”

Leah leaned down, catching your gaze. “You scared the life out of me tonight.” She admitted, her voice low but steady. “But you did the right thing. You called me. That’s what matters. We'll talk tomorrow once you're sobered up. Right now all that mattress is that you called a safe and trusted adult to help you. I am glad you did that okay? And I am proud that you did so. It's hard asking for help when you do something stupid at your age. I know that.”

Tears pricked your eyes again but you nodded a tiny bit. She was proud even if she was mad. She also was glad and proud that you had called. Your eyes dropped again, exhaustion weighed heavier than panic now. You sank sideways into the cushions, your cheek brushing against the soft fabric.

“Rest.” Elle whispered, tucking a blanket around your shoulders. “We’ll be nearby in our bedroom. If you need anything you'll call.”

And for the first time that night, with water in your stomach, the taste of bread on your tongue, you began to relax. Leah and Elle were nearby in a bedroom, sleeping too. It was warm and quiet and you knew nothing could harm you here…

You were safe.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains was far too bright. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head, your skull throbbing with every heartbeat. It was a bad thrumming pain. For a terrifying moment you didn’t know where you were. Then the faint smell of coffee, the muted hum of voices in the kitchen, and the memory of the night before came rushing back.

Leah’s apartment.

You pushed yourself upright slowly, wincing at the dull ache in your temples. Someone had tucked the blanket carefully around you on the sofa. A glass of water still sat half-empty on the table, condensation pooling beneath it. You looked around exhausted. Still in your clothes that you had worn when you went out. Definitely not your usual clothes and nothing you'd ever wear in front of Leah… you had tried to fit in and put on a shorter skirt and a cute roo. It showed your skin and figure like a teenage girl would usually show off her skin and figure. But it really wasn't what you usually wore and definitely what you should be wearing here. You already felt shame burn in your cheeks.

Footsteps padded over. “You awake?”

Leah’s voice, soft but steady. She crouched down, pressing two ibuprofen and a fresh glass of water into your hand. For now her tone was gentle and soft. “Take these. Trust me.” You obeyed, gulping them down, grateful when the cool water eased your dry throat.

“Here.” She added, setting a plate of toast and fruit in front of you. “Get something in your stomach. Bread’s better in the morning.”

You managed a weak smile, nibbling at the toast. Your stomach fluttered nervously, half with nausea, half with embarrassment. The captain of the Lionesses was feeding you breakfast after babysitting you through your first drunken night out. You felt absolutely horrible and embarrassed.

Elle appeared from the kitchen, cradling a mug of tea. She leaned against the doorway, eyes soft but watchful, as if making sure you didn’t wobble too much or push the food away. “You’ll be alright.” She said quietly, her tone reassuring but measured. “Headache’ll ease in an hour or so.”

You nodded, cheeks hot. The weight of their eyes, caring, steady, but undeniably serious, pressed against your chest. It was a lot and you knew it was still not everything they wanted to say. The silence stretched, comfortable enough but heavy with everything left unsaid. You knew the conversation was coming. Just… not yet. For now, there was water, toast, and the quiet safety of their living room.

You sat curled up on the sofa, the blanket still draped around your shoulders even though the sun was high now. The toast sat half-eaten on the plate in front of you, your stomach still knotted. But at least you felt a little less… dead.

Leah was on the armchair opposite, elbows on her knees, watching you with that captain’s intensity you’d seen a thousand times on the pitch. Only now it was all for you. Elle sat beside her, calm, hands folded in her lap, her presence softer but no less steady. They both clearly were a little mad. Not angry, just worried enough that it made them mad.

“Alright.” Leah said finally, breaking the silence. “I need you to tell me what happened last night. All of it.”

Your throat closed. You picked at the edge of the blanket, eyes blurring. “I… after the match, they texted me. My classmates. Said we should go out. Celebrate… you know because I was chosen for the Euros squad and won the Champions League…”

Leah’s brow furrowed but she let you continue. She and the other girls, both Arsenal and Lionesses, sometimes went out to drink, they never took you along. Not to be mean, but because you were so young and they didn't want to influence you to make bad decisions.

“They said-” Your voice cracked, tears spilling before you could stop them. “They said we’d get in if I came. And we did. Straight into VIP. They kept… they kept saying ‘our Lioness’ like it was a joke, like that was all I was there for…”

Elle leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle. It was obvious she already knew where this was going. God the two of them probably would've known the second you got the text. “And then?”

You sucked in a shaky breath. “They kept leaving me. To dance, to… to meet people. They only came back for drinks. Drinks on my card, which I didn't even know about. I— I didn’t even know how much it was until the bill came. Three hundred and eight pounds.”

The words broke into sobs, your face hot and wet as you buried it in your hands. “And then they just… left. I went to the bathroom and when I came back everything was gone. Their stuff. Them. All of it. I asked the barman and he said they’d left and - ” Your voice hitched. “And I was alone. And drunk. And… scared. I didn’t know what to do.”

Leah exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she looked up, her eyes were sharp but her voice stayed controlled. “First of all — you’re sixteen. You shouldn’t have been drinking, full stop. That could have gone very, very badly.”

You nodded miserably, fresh tears sliding down your cheeks. “I know. I'm sorry. It's not illegal and most girls my age go for a beer or cider at the pub. So I didn't think it'd be a big deal. You guys go all the time… I just wanted to feel normal with friends for once.”

She leaned forward, her gaze catching yours, firm but not unkind. “But you need to hear this, Y/N. Those people? They are not your friends. Real friends don’t use you. They don’t disappear and leave you to pay their bill. They don’t leave you scared out of your mind in some club.”

Her words stung because they were true. You clutched the blanket tighter, sobbing harder. You felt so miserable and pathetic. You didn't even know where you fit anymore. For the lionesses and arsenal girls you were too little, too young and for the people your age… you were just famous, rich (you weren't rich but definitely had more money than them) and way too mature. You didn't belong anywhere.

Elle reached over then, sliding a tissue into your hand, her touch grounding. “She’s right, love. Friends should make you feel safe. Look out for you. Not treat you like a free ticket.”

Leah’s expression softened just a little. She reached across, resting a hand gently on your knee. “Last night could’ve gone wrong in a hundred different ways. But you did one thing right. You called me. That was smart and I am glad you did that. I know it couldn't have been easy because you knew you'd get in trouble… so I am very proud and glad you did it. God, you have no idea how glad I am. The thought of you alone in that club I got so worried, babygirl. So no matter what happens. You call me okay? And I’ll always come, no matter what. You understand?”

You nodded through the tears, throat raw. “I was so scared, Lee.”

“I know?” She said, her voice dropping lower, gentler now. “But you’re safe. You’re not alone and you learned something from this I bet.” When you nodded a bit, she smiled and squeezed your shoulder gently. Elle gave your hand a soft squeeze. “We’ve got you. You're safe with us, so you can just relax. While you get rid of your hangover.”

And as the tears kept falling, something inside you loosened, the crushing shame and fear easing just enough under their steady presence. You reached for Leah and hugged her a bit. The grown up smiled softly and kissed your hair. For the first time since the night before, you believed them that you belonged and that everything was okay.

You’d convinced yourself the nightmare was over once you’d had the talk with Leah and Elle. You cried, you promised you'd never do anything like that again, you thought that was the end of it. But Leah Williamson wasn’t just your captain. She was everyone’s captain.

Which is why, when you walked into training at Arsenal, the girls were already waiting.

It started with Katie McCabe, the Irish woman smirked a bit as you walked in.

“Next time you fancy a drink.” She said, hands on hips, that wolfish grin pulling at her mouth, “You come with me. Proper pint in a proper pub, with crisps and bad music. Not some daft cocktail joint that rinses you for three hundred quid.” Caitlin sighed and flared at her girlfriend before the Australian spoke. “I guess I'll have to come along too, to supervise you, don't I?”

A ripple of laughter broke out around the room, but then Katie’s grin faded into something more serious. “Also not eating before alcohol. Did you even listen to all my stories? I told you so often how I got so drunk in school because I didn't eat before. Really kid that was just stupid and dangerous… And don’t ever let people use you like that again. You’re not their ticket in. You’re better than that.”

You nodded quickly, cheeks burning, but Katie reached out and messed your hair anyway before walking off. Even if you just had gotten a talking to it was obvious the Irish woman had just been worried. She knew about the dangers around alcohol, so of course she was worried.

Beth chimed in with a grin. “Don’t worry, kid, you’re not the first disaster case. Have you ever seen McCabe after enough pints? Carnage.”

Katie whirled around. “Oi! I’m being supportive here.”

The laughter that followed helped break the tension, even if your face was still burning.

Alessia Russo and Lotte Wubben-Moy were next, closing in on either side of you like bodyguards as you walked to the pitch for training together. You knew the older girls would definitely have a word to say to you. They wouldn't tell you off for drinking, they both had done that before as well.

“Bin those so-called mates.” Alessia said, her tone firm, as she glanced down at you with a little smile. “They’re not friends if they leave you with the bill and disappear.”

Lotte nodded a bit and slung an arm around your shoulders. “Stick with us instead. This lot? We’ll keep you safe.”

You sniffed, trying not to cry again, but their closeness made something inside you ease. “Kay… I am sorry. I just thought you guys wouldn't want me to join you. Because I am so much younger.”

Alessia chuckled. “We don't want you to drink but better it happens on our watch where you are safe and can make your own experiences than you go alone and get into danger. Also you're our friend, okay? We don't just hang out with you because you're the kid on the team.”

You nod a tiny bit and smile. “O-okay.”

Lia waited until the noise died down after training before she came over. She crouched so you had no choice but to meet her calm, steady eyes. You liked the Swiss woman, she was always sweet and gentle but also never made you feel like a child. Instead she told you her honest thoughts.

“You are very young.” She said softly. “And people will try to take advantage of that. Not just your age, but also your fame as a young and well known football player… But now you know. You must learn to differentiate, you must trust the right people. Football is a family, not just the girls on this team or your national team. Hell you could probably end up in a bar in Barcelona and someone would know someone from the Barça team and they'd get you to be safe… what I am trying to say is we Football women we take care of each other even if we don't know each other. We share a passion and that makes us family. Use this family, not strangers.”

You nodded hard, throat tight, the truth of her words sinking deep. Then you just hugged her tightly. “Thanks Lia. I promise I'll be good from now on and not do stupid shit.”

Lia chuckled a bit but held you close to her chest. “I know. You're a good kid. We all know that which is why we worry about you when something like this happens.”

That night, you were still at Leah's and Elle’s place, the couple had insisted on you staying with them till your mum came back from her trip.

Suddenly your phone buzzed. Leah gave you a knowing look from across the room… like she was trying to tell you to answer it. You pressed the screen and immediately winced at the voices snapping down the line. It was Lucy and Hannah. Lucy was like your mentor during national team duty and Hannah was a good friend of yours. The goalie was almost 8 years older than you, but the two of you and Grace were quite close. Just like Esme was a good friend of yours despite the age difference.

Lucy's voice came first. It was sharp and angry, but deep down was just relief that you were safe and sound. “What the hell were you thinking? Sixteen, drunk, alone… Do you even realize what could’ve happened?”

Hannah cut in before you could stammer a reply. “They used you, guppy. They saw your name, not you. You can’t let anyone treat you like that. Ever. You’re not a free ticket. You’re a friend. Our teammate. We want you safe.”

The two of them tag-teamed you for ten full minutes, Lucy sharp and furious, Hannah quieter but no less cutting. By the end, you were clutching the phone with hot ears and wet eyes, muttering apology after apology. Leah just watched quietly. She didn't step in, she would if they didn't stop soon though, she didn't want you to have a breakdown, just understand how many people worried about you.

And then finally Lucy’s tone softened, just a fraction. “We’re mad because we care. Don’t make one of us get in the car next time, yeah? I get you're a teenager and want to feel normal. But just ask one of us. I bet a lot of your friends on national and club duty wouldn't mind taking you out sometimes.”

“Yeah.” You whispered. “They have already offered a lot since it happened… I don't even think I wanna drink anytime soon… being drunk in Leah's living room was kinda not something I wanna do again.”

“Good.” Hannah said firmly. “Now go eat something. It's almost dinner time. I bet Leah or Elle is making you something good for dinner.”,

The line went dead after quick good-byes and you looked at Leah who opened her arms and let you snuggle into her. She held you for a bit before she whispered. “They love you so much. All of us do. You're like a little sister to us all. So don't pull a stunt like that again… and if you do call one of us. Even if we're mad, your safety is more important.”

It ended three days later after dozens of calls and texts, even Jess and her girlfriend Ann-Kathrin from Germany texted you. By the end of it all you’d been told off by more world-class footballers than you could count. It was overwhelming, embarrassing, and a little bit terrifying. Especially when you were made to FaceTime Grace and Esme at three AM as you blocked all those fake friends while they shit talked them… but beneath it all was something undeniable… they cared. Fiercely. It was like Lia said. You're a family, one that spread over the globe with the thread connecting you all. The love for football and the genuine care and respect for one another and the skills you brought to the pitch.

And as you were snuggled on Leah's couch, pulling your blanket tighter around you that night, you realized something important. You might have made a mistake, but you weren’t going to face the consequences and the fears of being too young, too undeserving alone. Not anymore. You had a family behind you. One that nothing could take from you and that would protect you from anything.

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