#las chivas

pairing(s): armando gonzález x lucía méndez (female oc)

summary:

Lucía Méndez is a freelance photographer trying to make a name for herself in Guadalajara. When an unexpected assignment covering Chivas lands in her lap, she expects long hours, impossible deadlines, and a lot of football she barely understands.

She doesn’t expect Armando González.

A slow-burn romance about finding your place, learning to be seen, and discovering that sometimes the person who notices everyone else deserves to be noticed too.

chapter: 1 — Exposure

words: 1606

genre: slow burn, romance, slice of life, sports romance

cw: none for this chapter. future chapters may include mild language, anxiety, emotional themes, and eventual mature content (18+).

a/n:

Hi! 🤍

This story has been living in my head ever since the World Cup, and I’m so excited to finally share it.

In Focus / Enfoque follows Lucía, a freelance photographer whose life slowly becomes intertwined with Chivas and the people around the club. It’s a very character-driven, very slow burn story, so expect plenty of quiet moments, teasing, friendships, football, photography, and a romance that takes its time.

Even if you don’t know much about Chivas (or futbol in general), I hope you’ll enjoy Lucy’s journey.

I’d love to hear what you think. 🤍

You can also find it on AO3 or Wattpad, where I have much more recent updates. Thanks!

__________________________________________________

7:48 a.m.

The alarm has been ringing for…

…forty-three minutes.

Throwing the blanket over her head in a desperate attempt to get one more minute of sleep, Lucía doesn’t even hear it anymore.

Her tiny studio apartment in Colonia Americana is already bright with the Guadalajaran sunlight filtering through thin curtains. One wall is covered with prints she’d taken over the years, soccer matches, dia de muertos celebrations from el centro historico, street vendors laughing, a little girl chasing pigeons in Plaza de Armas.

The apartment isn’t fancy, but with the little money she had saved up while working in the U.S. after college it was enough for her after moving back to her hometown.

It was just a full size bed pushed against the wall. She still didn’t have enough money or thought it was worth buying a whole bed frame, if she was able to get a full night’s sleep it was good enough for her. She had an old couch she bought second hand, mismatched dishes. Camera batteries lying around and charging on the kitchen counter. Memory cards scattered across her desk and laptop, two lenses worth more than every piece of furniture she owns.

Photographers are like that.

They’ll sleep on secondhand furniture before buying a cheap lens.

Her laptop was still open with her editing software still open from last night. She’d gotten home after midnight after covering some cultural festival in Centro Histórico. She’d promised herself she’d only edit “a couple.”

She edited 417.

Once she got in a groove she just couldn’t stop.

Then-

BZZT.

Her phone vibrates.

Not her alarm.

WhatsApp.

María Luisa:

Lucy…

Another vibration.

Esti:

Güey.

Another.

María Luisa:

No mames.

Another.

Esti:

¿DÓNDE ESTÁS?

Lucía throws her blanket into her lap and cracks one eye open. Turns over and grabs her phone to check the time.

“…chingada madre.”

There are already twelve unread messages.

⸻

María Luisa:

Ya pedimos café.

Esti:

El café ya se enfrió.

María Luisa:

Vamos a mandar a la Guardia Nacional.

Esti:

O Protección Civil.

María Luisa:

O una Amber Alert.

Esti:

SE BUSCA

Lucía Méndez.

Última vez vista delirando editando fotos.

Lucía groans into her pillow.

She types with one eye still closed.

Lucy:

YA VOY.

Immediately.

Esti:

Mentira.

María Luisa:

Ni te has levantado.

“…¿Cómo saben?”

Esti:

Porque te conocemos.

Jumping out of bed, she kneels over throwing the clothes she meant to fold and put away from the floor into the bed looking for her sneakers she must have thrown while getting into bed last night.

Hair still damp from yesterday’s shower because she slept with it wet.

She only has one sock on and decides it’ll be easier grabbing a new pair than finding the other pair. Grabbing whatever pair of jeans are on top of her bed she decides it’s not a day to look cute but just to survive the day. She throws on a clean oversized black t-shirt and throws her hair up in a bun.

Camera battery?

Where…

Oh.

Still charging. She goes up to her desk to grab her camera lenses and work bag and catches her reflection in her makeup mirror on her desk and groans. Her eye bags and dark circles couldn’t be any worse. Esti and Maria Luisa would not let her live it down if she shows up looking like this. She sits down and does the quickest minimal makeup known to man. Moisturizer, concealer, brushes her brows into place while she thanks the brow gods for not having to do anything to them. Applies mascara and adds a tinted blush that doubles as a lip gloss and calls it a day.

She glances at herself on her full length mirror next to her door as she grabs her work bag and double checks her equipment.

Camera body

Second camera

70-200 lens

Wallet

SD cards

Laptop

Keys

Check, check and check.

“…Sobrevivimos.”

Good.

⸻

Then she runs out the door. Making sure to slam the door since it has been giving her trouble to make sure it shuts completely and as she slides her key after locking it she face palms.

“…Madres.”

Practically body slamming the door to get it to open again.

Her phone. Running to her nightstand she grabs it and catches herself before tripping on a pair of jeans she forgot to throw on her bed.

Laughing and groaning at the fact she’ll have to make sure she takes time to clean up her place later she runs out once again.

⸻

Normally it was only a ten minute walk to the cafeteria, a local cafe that has come to be a favorite spot of el trio to start their day. Coming out of her building Lucia gets greeted by Don Gilberto or Don Gil as she has come to call him. The caretaker of their building who basically does everything and anything that you may need around here.

“Buenos días Señorita Lucia. ¡Lindo día!”

“Buenos días Don Gil!”

Waving goodbye she gets going and enjoys the 10 minute walk to the cafe. While enjoying the smell of cafe de olla from the nearby vendors while smiling and wishing them a good morning. Walking through the streets and watching for the rumbling buses and motorcycles weaving through traffic she smiles to herself. Staring up as she waits for the pedestrian sign to turn green she watches the morning sunlight hitting the old colonial buildings.

She’s exhausted…

…but this city still makes her smile.

⸻

She finally reaches the café and sees Maria Luisa and Esti sitting at one of the patio tables outside.

The second she reaches them and even before she places her work bag in an empty chair María Luisa doesn’t even look up.

“Tardaste treinta y ocho minutos.”

Lucy freezes.

“…¿Los contaste?”

Esti, without looking up from her menu

“Sí.”

Lucy finally drops her camera bag dramatically into the empty chair.

“Buenos días para ustedes también.”

⸻

Before Lucy could even place her coffee order Maria Luisa had already started her weekly rant about her relationship with her on and off boyfriend Diego.

“Ya terminé con él.”

“No me digas, el mismo Diego con quien andabas ayer por la noche?” Esti exclaimed, sipping on her latte.

“¿Que? Que no quedamos que no ibas a quedar con el por esta semana?” Lucy said as Esti laughed.

“Si! Que no esta semana iba hacer.. Como la llmaste? Dick free??” Maria Luisa groans and covers her face.

“¡Me llevo flores!”

Lucy and Esti just exchange the same exhausted look.

“Ah no perdón, con eso cambian las cosas” Esti rolls her eyes. “Ya solo le falto que te llevará chocolates también.”

Finally getting her coffee and taking a couple sips she gives Maria Luisa a knowing look.

“¿Me recuerdas porque estaban peleados otra vez?”

“Es que no me contestó por cuatro horas.”

Esti deadpans, “Ay no, seguramente lo secuestró la CIA.”

Lucy snorts into her coffee.

María Luisa rolls her eyes.

“Ustedes nunca me toman en serio.”

Lucy smiles.

“Sí te tomamos en serio… a él ya no.”

⸻

Then the conversation naturally shifts to Lucy as much as she hates it.

“So… ¿y tú?”

“¿Qué?”

“¿Cómo va el amor?”

Lucy laughs.

“¿Cuál amor?”

“El inexistente.”

“I don’t have time.”

María Luisa gives her that look.

“You always say that.”

Lucy shrugs.

“Porque es verdad.”

She gestures toward her work bag that she has placed on the empty chair between them.

“Last night I got home at one. I edited until almost three. I have two invoices I still haven’t sent. Tomorrow I’m covering another event.”

Esti raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, workaholic.”

Lucy smiles.

“I’d rather build my career first.”

She means it.

Relationships can wait.

Steady work can’t.

“Pues yo digo que como mujeres empoderadas podemos con los dos” Esti claims and Lucy laughs as she looks over and calls over the waiter.

“Tal vez, pero prefiero enfocarme en solo lo que importa ahora. Porque no veo que el amor esté pagando mi renta.” Maria Luisa and Esti give each other a look but keep their witty comments to themselves.

“Bueno hasta la otra?” Lucy exclaims, getting up and grabbing her things.

“Claro, pero no te olvides de nosotras y contesta cuando te hablemos!” She gives them a cheeky smile and blows them a kiss before she leaves.

⸻

Lucy heads back toward the shared media office where she occasionally edits, delivers photos, and picks up freelance assignments. It’s not a glamorous newsroom, just a small, bustling space where photographers and reporters drift in and out between jobs.

She’s thinking about invoices, deadlines, and whether she can afford to replace one of her worn camera straps when one of the other photographers, Luis, calls out.

“¡Lucy!”

She turns.

He’s waving a folder.

“Oye… ¿sigues buscando una cobertura fija?”

Her whole attention shifts.

“…Sí.”

He walks over.

“I think they’re still looking for someone to cover Chivas this season.”

She blinks.

“¿En serio?”

He nods.

“They need someone at training this morning. The usual guy got pulled onto another assignment.”

He hands her a temporary credential. For a second she simply stared at the credential.

“Pues apúrate…”

He checks his watch.

“…porque el entrenamiento empieza en menos de una hora.”

Lucy stares at the laminated pass in her hand.

Her pulse picks up.

This isn’t just another one-off match.

This could finally be the consistent assignment she’s been chasing for years.

She tightens her grip on the pass, slings her camera over her shoulder, and smiles despite herself.

“…Bueno.”

falin fiel a las poderosisimas chivas

pairing(s): armando gonzález x lucía méndez (female oc)

summary:

Lucy’s first assignment at Verde Valle goes better than expected. Between quiet moments, new faces, and one photograph that refuses to leave her mind, it feels like the beginning of something.

Word count: 3k

genre: slow burn, romance, slice of life, sports romance

cw: none for this chapter. future chapters may include mild language, anxiety, emotional themes, and eventual mature content (18+).

Chapter 2: First Frame

The drive to Verde Valle felt different this time.

Not because she’d never been there before.

Because this time, she wasn’t going as the extra photographer covering a youth clinic or a charity event tucked between bigger assignments. She wasn’t there to grab a few photos before heading home with enough material to invoice a couple hundred pesos.

This time, she had been sent because someone trusted her.

Not completely.

Not yet.

But enough to hand her a Chivas training session and see what she did with it.

Lucy tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she turned onto the familiar tree-lined street leading to the training complex. The blue Chivas crest mounted beside the entrance appeared between the branches, exactly where she remembered it.

She smiled despite herself.

“Don’t screw this up.”

The security guard at the entrance looked up from his clipboard as she rolled down her window.

“Buenos días.”

She handed over her media credential.

He barely glanced at it before looking back at her.

“Buenos días, Lucy.”

There was something oddly comforting about that.

Not important enough for anyone to stop and chat.

Just familiar enough that she wasn’t another stranger walking through the gates.

“Gracias.”

She parked where media usually parked, shouldered her backpack, clipped one camera across her body while the second hung from her shoulder, and started down the brick path.

Morning sunlight filtered through the enormous trees that lined the campus. The air still carried the damp smell of freshly watered grass, and somewhere farther ahead she could hear the rhythmic hiss of sprinklers shutting off one by one.

Verde Valle always surprised people.

Most expected something flashy.

Instead, it felt…peaceful.

White buildings tucked between towering trees.

Long walkways shaded by branches that swayed lazily in the warm Guadalajara breeze.

Groundskeepers pushing carts loaded with cones. Someone repainting the field lines.

A maintenance worker driving slowly past in a little utility vehicle with coolers stacked in the back.

It reminded her less of a professional sports complex and more of a university campus.

Purposeful.

Quiet.

Already awake long before the city was.

She recognized faces as she walked.

A cameraman from TV Azteca balancing a tripod over one shoulder.

An older photographer she’d seen covering practically every Liga MX match in Guadalajara.

One of the Chivas media coordinators carrying a clipboard and coffee.

They exchanged the same effortless greetings they always did.

“Buenos.”

“¿Qué onda?”

“Todo bien.”

No one stopped walking.

Nobody needed introductions anymore.

She had become one of those familiar faces that existed somewhere between acquaintance and coworker.

As she approached the practice field, the atmosphere shifted. The quiet campus gave way to the familiar energy of the media preparing for another morning.

Long telephoto lenses already rested against the black fence surrounding the field.

Photographers crowded shoulder to shoulder along the press line, adjusting monopods, checking settings, and comparing light.

Everyone wanted the same thing.

The first shot.

Lucy smiled to herself.

Same as always.

She could have squeezed into the middle with everyone else.Instead, she walked toward the far end of the fence where there was room to breathe.

People always assumed photographers reacted quickly.

Lucy knew the opposite was true. The best photographs usually belonged to the person patient enough to wait. She rested her elbows lightly against the railing but left both cameras hanging untouched.

She watched.

Always.

It had become an unspoken rule she followed years ago. You couldn’t photograph a moment until you understood it.

The others had already begun firing bursts toward the entrance tunnel where players would emerge.

Lucy wasn’t interested.

Every newspaper in Guadalajara would have those pictures by lunchtime.

Player walks out.

Player stretches.

Player jogs.

The same photographs from twenty different angles.

Instead, she let her eyes wander.

An academy kid nervously clutching a jersey two sizes too big.

A little boy standing on tiptoe just to see over the fence.

A trainer laughing as someone struggled to carry three bags of soccer balls at once.

An assistant coach greeting every groundskeeper by name before stepping onto the grass.

Those were the moments she came looking for.

Stories.

Not poses.

Players slowly began filtering onto the field. The goalkeepers were first, joking loudly with each other as they made their way toward one end of the pitch.

A few more players followed behind them, tossing comments back and forth that drew laughter from the coaching staff.

Someone carried the portable speaker and music crackled to life a moment later.

Lucy still hadn’t lifted her camera. She watched who naturally drifted together. Who walked alone. Who greeted every employee they passed. Who signed a quick autograph without breaking stride.

Near midfield, Santiago Sandoval appeared, smiling as he reached the fence to greet a group of kids waiting with notebooks and jerseys in hand. He signed quickly, exchanged a few words, and somehow managed to make each child feel like they were the only one standing there.

Lucy smiled.

That’s a photo.

She finally raised her camera.

Not because Santiago was one of the better-known players.

Because the little girl beaming at him while clutching her newly signed jersey told a better story than another picture of someone stretching before training.

The shutter clicked softly.

Once.

Twice.

Then she lowered the camera again. A few minutes later, another small group jogged onto the field. One player laughed at something beside him.

The other simply listened.

Lucy barely gave them a second thought.

One of them, with the name Gutierrez on his back, seemed to know everyone already, tossing greetings toward teammates before they even reached midfield.

The player beside him quietly nodded toward a young boy standing against the fence, offering the smallest wave before jogging onto the grass without waiting to be noticed.

Lucy caught the gesture almost by accident.

She didn’t know his name or catch the back of his shirt. Didn’t need to.

She simply filed the moment away.

That’s another story.

Only then did she lift the camera once more.

_____

The final whistle echoed across the training fields, followed almost immediately by the familiar shuffle of players making their way toward the sideline. Some headed straight for the locker rooms. Others stopped near the fence where a handful of reporters were already waiting, microphones raised before anyone had even caught their breath.

Lucy stayed back.

Interviews had never been her thing. Questions belonged to reporters.

Moments belonged to photographers.

She adjusted the zoom on her lens instead, catching a trainer tossing a towel toward one of the goalkeepers before turning her camera toward the small media scrum forming a few yards away.

“…una última pregunta.”

The club’s media coordinator stepped in with an apologetic smile.

“Gracias, Santi.”

The microphones lowered almost in unison. Santiago Sandoval thanked the reporters, answered one last quick follow-up anyway, and started walking toward the exit.

Halfway there, he spotted her. His grin appeared almost instantly.

“¡Lucy!”

She looked over with an amused smile.

“¿Qué pasó, estrella?”

“Oye…” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “¿Así recibes a tu jugador favorito?”

Lucy laughed.

“¿Mi favorito? No te emociones.”

“Nomás porque todavía no te invito un café.”

“Ah, entonces era eso. Pensé que nomás eras buena onda con toda la prensa.”

“Con toda no…” he said with a grin. “Nomás con las fotógrafas guapas.”

Lucy rolled her eyes so dramatically it made him laugh.

“Ya empezaste.”

“¿Qué? Déjame intentar.”

“Vas perdiendo.”

Before Santiago could answer, another voice came from behind him.

“¡No inventes!”

The loud player from earlier walked over, shaking his head.

“¿Ya luego luego estás ligándote a la prensa?”

Santiago didn’t even turn around.

“Tú cállate.”

“Cinco minutos sin entrenar y ya andas.”

Lucy bit back a smile, while Santiago sighed dramatically.

“¿Ves? Así me tratan.”

“Porque te conocemos.”

“Qué envidiosos son.”

Brian finally looked toward Lucy with an easy smile.

“No le hagas caso. Siempre anda igual.”

Lucy laughed.

“Ya me di cuenta.”

“¿Y tú de qué medio eres?”

“Oh…” she shrugged. “Ninguno, la verdad. Soy freelance.”

“¿En serio?”

“Sí. Me mandan dependiendo del evento.”

“Órale.”

Brian looked genuinely impressed.

“Está padre eso.”

“Cuando hay trabajo,” Lucy replied with a small laugh.

“Cuando no, pues… toca buscarle.”

Santiago nodded.

“Pero toma muy buenas fotos.”

“No exageres.”

“No exagero.”

Brian pointed toward the camera hanging from her shoulder.

“¿Entonces todas las fotos que andabas tomando ahorita son tuyas?”

“Mhmm.”

“Pues luego las voy a buscar.”

“Si salen bien.”

“Salen bien,” Santiago answered for him. “Siempre salen bien.”

Lucy shook her head.

“Qué bárbaro contigo.”

It was then that another player made his way towards them. Slowing down once he was beside Brian.

Brian looked towards him when he felt him beside him.

“¡Hormiga!”

The player, who was about the same height as Brian smiled at him and reached his arm to pat Brian’s back.

“¿Qué pasó?”

“Nada…” Brian pointed down at Lucy. “Aquí, Santi ya anda haciendo relaciones públicas otra vez.”

The player or Hormiga as Brian called him chuckled at that and gave Lucy a small smile.

Santiago shook his head and laughed.

“Ya, hombre.”

He turned to Lucy.

“Por cierto…”

“La fotógrafa de la que les estaba hablando.”

He pointed to Hormiga.

“Él es Armando.”

Armando stretched out his hand. This took Lucy by surprise on how formal he was but she found it endearing.

“Mucho gusto.”

“Mucho gusto.” She smiled at him, grabbing his hand.

There was an awkward pause and he tilted his head with an amused smile.

“Aunque…”

He looked at Santiago.

“Casi nadie me dice Armando.”

Brian laughed.

“Ni nosotros.”

“Todos me dicen Hormiga.”

Lucy laughed.

“¿Y puedo preguntar por qué?”

Before Hormiga could say anything Brian beat him to it.

“Porque parece que corre por todos lados.”

“Y porque está chiquito,” added Santiago.

“Gracias por el apoyo, eh pero mira quien lo dice,” Hormiga replied, hitting the back of Santiago’s head, still smiling.

“De nada.”

Brian laughed and very exaggeratedly inhaled .

“Bueno, ya vámonos porque este ya hasta huele a entrenamiento.”

“¿Yo?” Hormiga raised his brow.

“Tú.”

“Hueles peor tú.”

“Imposible.”

“Santiago…”

Hormiga pointed at Brian.

“Dile.”

Santiago stepped back and raised both of his hands.

“No me metan. Yo no voy a andar oliendo gente.”

All four of them laughed.

“Bueno,” Brian said, while slowly walking backwards “Nos vemos, Lucy.”

“Que estés bien.”

“Cuídate,” Santiago told her.

Hormiga simply raised his hand and waved.

“Nos vemos.”

Lucy waved at them and waited a couple of seconds until they were under the tree’s shadow.

You could see Brian moving his hands around, already picking up his body language as he talked. Santiago throwing his head back laughing. Meanwhile Hormiga walked in between simply nodding as he walked.

Lucy raised her camera one last time.

Click.

That…

….was the better photograph.

______

By the time Lucy pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, the late afternoon sun had begun to sink behind the rooftops of Guadalajara.

Her shoulders ached. Not enough to complain. Just enough to remind her she’d spent the last few hours carrying two camera bodies and a backpack full of lenses. She climbed the stairs to her tiny studio, balancing her camera bag against one hip while fishing her keys out of the front pocket of her backpack. The familiar click of the lock echoed through the quiet hallway. Pushing practically her whole body weight into her shoulder she pushed the door open.

Home.

The apartment was exactly as she’d left it that morning. Her unmade bed occupied one corner of the room.

A tiny kitchen sat against the opposite wall, barely large enough for one person to cook comfortably. Rolls of film, batteries, lens cloths, notebooks and half-finished photo books competed for space across every available surface.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even particularly organized. But it was hers.

She kicked off her sneakers by the door before walking straight toward the wide window overlooking the street. The apartment instantly filled with life. She could hear someone arguing downstairs. While a motorcycle rumbled past. Music drifted from a neighboring apartment.

The city never really got quiet.

Lucy had missed that while living in the States.

She smiled to herself as the warm evening breeze rolled through the apartment. After changing into an oversized T-shirt she’d probably owned since high school and a pair of worn athletic shorts, she rummaged through the refrigerator. Leftover tuna salad from the night before.

Good enough. Plate in one hand, and a glass of agua de Jamaica in the other. She settled into the chair at her desk before sliding an SD card into the reader. Almost instantly, hundreds of tiny thumbnails filled the monitor.

There it was. The part of photography most people never thought about.

The editing. For every photograph people saw online, there were dozens they never would. Her fingers danced across the keyboard almost automatically.

Reject.

Keep.

Reject.

Reject.

Three stars.

Delete.

Delete.

Five stars.

A perfectly sharp action shot disappeared without hesitation. Technically excellent.

Emotionally empty.

Gone.

Another stayed.

Not because it was perfect, but because Santiago’s laugh looked genuine as he signed a little girl’s jersey.

Lucy smiled.

That’s the one.

Nearly an hour passed without her noticing. By the time she leaned back in her chair, the folder had shrunk from hundreds of images to barely forty. She made one final pass before exporting the files for her client. The progress bar crawled across the screen. While it uploaded, she opened a new email. Attached the gallery and typed a short thank-you, and included the invoice.

Sent.

Work finished.

She stretched her arms over her head until her back popped.

Now…

The fun part. She duplicated the folder, while tne copy labeled Client.

The other simply…

Instagram.

These weren’t necessarily the best photographs. They were her favorites.

A groundskeeper repainting the touchline before training. An academy player nervously clutching his ball while waiting outside the fence. Santiago laughing with a group of kids after practice. Brian caught mid-conversation, his hands moving almost as much as he talked.

Then…

She stopped on one frame.

A player crouched beside the fence, listening patiently as a little boy excitedly showed him something she could no longer remember. The sunlight caught the side of his face. The child looked at him as though no one else in the world existed. Lucy zoomed in slightly. Softened the highlights. Pulled back the shadows. Nothing dramatic.

Just enough.

She smiled.

It wasn’t about who he was. It was about what the moment said. She added it to the carousel and made sure to tag hormiga_glez.

The final image made her pause a second time. Three players walking away beneath the shade of the trees. It showed Brian talking animatedly. Santiago laughing beside him. Armando in the middle, smiling quietly as he listened. Nobody looking at the camera.

Nobody posing.

Just…

Friends.

She made that the cover. A few minutes later, her caption was finished.

“Mañanas en Verde Valle.

A veces las mejores historias pasan entre entrenamientos. 📸💙”

She hit Share.

Satisfied, she closed the laptop. A second later she grabbed her phone and opened IG and added the first photo - the one with the three players - and shared it to her IG story before setting her phone face down on the desk.

She was mid bite on a tostada with tuna when she heard her phone go off.

BZZT

She frowned.

That was fast. She unlocked her phone.

Esti.jpg Respondió a tu historia

Esti.jpg:

No mames, Lucy… ¿A qué horas fuiste a echarte un taco de ojo sin avisar?

Lucy snorted so suddenly she almost choked. Before she could answer.

Another message.

Esti.jpg:

Gracias por alimentar mi ojo alegre.

She laughed out loud.

“Esta vieja…”

Almost immediately, Esti had already shared the story into their IG group chat.

Las Insoportables

Esti.jpg:

Vean nada mas lo que la muy desgraciada anda escondiendo.

Maluandco:

Perdón… ¿y porque no invitas?

Esti.jpg:

Exacto.

Esti.jpg:

Qué egoísta.

Esti.jpg:

Tanto hombre guapo y ni una llamada.

Lucy rolled her eyes as another three notifications popped up.

Maluandco:

“Amigas” dice. 🙄

Esti.jpg:

Yo sí hubiera compartido.

Lucy finally typed back.

Lucy.mdz.photos:

Estaba trabajando, mensas.

Three dots immediately appeared.

Esti.jpg:

JAJAJAJAJA.

Esti.jpg:

Peor tantito.

Maluandco:

Imagínate que te paguen por ver hombres guapos.

Esti.jpg:

El sueño.

Lucy laughed again, shaking her head.

Lucy.mdz.photos:

Les prometo que nadie se ve tan guapo después de dos horas entrenando.

Esti.jpg:

A mí no me importa.

Esti.jpg:

Mientras respiren.

Lucy stared at the screen for a second before laughing hard enough to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

Maluandco:

Esti, compórtate tantito.

Esti.jpg:

No.

Lucy.mdz.photos: 😭

Another message popped up.

Maluandco:

Espera…

Maluandco:

¿Entonces sí vas a estar yendo más seguido a Verde Valle?

Lucy looked down at her keyboard.

A small smile crept onto her face.

Lucy.mdz.photos:

Creo que sí.

Lucy.mdz.photos:

Me dieron la asignación para cubrir los entrenamientos y partidos de Chivas.

The group chat went suspiciously quiet.

For exactly three seconds.

Esti.jpg:

…

Esti.jpg:

NO MAMES.

Maluandco:

¡LUCYYYYY!

Esti.jpg:

¿Y apenas nos dices?

Lucy.mdz.photos:

Me enteré hoy, literal tuve que correr al entrenamiento. 😭

Maluandco:

Estoy muy orgullosa de ti.

That one made her smile.

Before she could answer—

Esti.jpg:

Yo también.

A beat.

Then.

Esti.jpg:

Pero sigo más orgullosa de los bíceps de esos hombres.

Lucy covered her face with one hand.

“Dios mío…”

Lucy.mdz.photos:

Estás enferma.

Esti.jpg:

Y tú vas a convivir con ellos cada semana.

Esti.jpg:

Qué suertuda.

Maluandco:

Nomás no te nos enamores de un futbolista.

Lucy didn’t even hesitate.

Lucy.mdz.photos:

JAJAJAJA.

Lucy.mdz.photos:

No se preocupen.

Lucy.mdz.photos:

Yo voy a trabajar.

Esti.jpg:

Ajá.

Maluandco:

Ajá.

Lucy smiled to herself as she locked the phone.

Across town…

Armando tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter before disappearing down the hallway toward his room. Training days all ended the same way.

Shower.

Something to eat.

A few quiet minutes before doing it all over again tomorrow. He had barely sat down on the edge of his bed when his phone buzzed. The team group chat on Whatsapp went off.

Santi 🐐:

¿Ven? Les dije que toma buenas fotos.

An Instagram link followed and almost immediately another message appeared.

BrianGiu:

Jajajaja nomás porque saliste guapo en todas. 😂

Santi 🐐:

Siempre salgo guapo.

BrianGiu:

Sí, sí, campeón.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Armando’s mouth. He tapped the little heart beneath Brian’s message before opening Santiago’s story. The first thing he noticed wasn’t himself.

It was the composition. The three of them walking away together beneath the trees. He honestly didn’t remember anyone taking that picture. He tapped the story and Lucy’s profile opened.

Lucy.mdz.photos

Lucy Méndez

Sports & Lifestyle Photographer

📍 Guadalajara, Jal.

DM or ✉️ for bookings

Rows and rows of photographs filled the screen.

Street markets.

Concerts.

Rain-soaked sidewalks.

Portraits.

Coffee shops.

Soccer.

Everything looked…alive. He kept scrolling. Halfway down the page, a familiar red heart appeared beneath one of the posts. He frowned slightly.

Another.

Then another.

Apparently he’d liked a few of her photos months ago after Santiago had shared them from previous training sessions. He hadn’t even remembered.

Curious now, he kept scrolling.

More photographs.

Almost no selfies. One mirror picture with a camera hanging around her neck. Another with two women who looked like close friends.

That was it.

He scrolled back to the top, her profile picture was tiny. Too small to make out much beyond dark hair and a camera strap slung over one shoulder. He tapped it once and her story she had recently posted popped up. It was her most recent post, the one Santiago had shared.

He let out the smallest breath through his nose before returning to the grid.

Qué raro.

Someone who spent so much time showing everyone else’s lives…

Hardly appeared in her own.

His thumb hovered over the blue Seguir button.

For a second.

Then another.

Instead, he double-tapped the newest post. A red heart bloomed across the screen.

He locked his phone and set it on the nightstand.

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain…