#misafic

Starting over In Madrid - Season 2

Chapter 15 ➺ Broken nights

Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.

WC: 5K words TW: angst, claustrophobia

Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter Chapter 13 ➺ Dangerous steps Chapter 14 ➺ The fall

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Fall was drawing towards its end. The icy cold wind bit the trees and scared away the rare pedestrians of the Ciudad neighborhoods. The strong wind infiltrated everywhere, its gusts galloping through the alleys, punishing even the mighty ones daring to venture outside, leaving them numb and battered.

Sheltered by the thick concrete walls, the smoke of my cigarette rose in the air. The volutes danced and spiraled, indifferent to the wind knocking over the grass just ahead of the smoking area of the women’s training pitch. I took a drag from my cigarette. My gaze traveled over the mistreated shape of the tree’s foliage. Someone shouted in the distance, excited. A couple of panicked birds flew away, perhaps in hope to find of more welcoming place. I inhaled again, the poised smoke a swift relief through the slumber. 

Numbness was my best friend.  It had helped me pull myself back together and I wasn’t asking for more nowadays. Although, today, I tried to pull numbness back to me like air through my cigarette.

I couldn’t deny it. It was hard. Seeing her again. After a whole month. After all my efforts to avoid it, though I’d always known I would be on my way to the pitch sooner or later, seeing her had been hard. 

The voices drew closer and the first players came off the training pitch a few feet away from me. Hayley waved to me as she exited toward the parking lot, a quick and brief hello before she looked back at her phone. She had tried to reach out to me when it happened but I had dismissed her. She was part of it somehow, part of the hurting part. Like the rest, hanging with Hayley would have been unbearable.

I pulled at the end of the cigarette, telling myself I should go back inside before she went that way too. But it was so tempting to see how I would feel, her being that close. 

Blowing out smoke, my chest tightened. Numbness gone, I remembered that night so vividly. That night… when time had stopped.

Life frozen. 

I had dragged myself to bed. I had been lying down, unable to sleep, unable to stop crying. The couple of minutes during which I didn’t cry had been spent staring blankly at the ceiling. 

I relived so strongly how my body had seemed to be floating, heart ripped out, the bare flesh exposed to the unwavering truth. The realization was the worst part of a break up. The acceptance had been impossible. The pain never eased. 

When we had broken up, her absence had suffocated me. Her presence lingered everywhere in my small home, her toothbrush waiting in the bathroom, a few clothes and underwear laying in my closet. Special ingredients for her diet were remaining safely stored in the kitchen. Her stuff had been where she had left them, where they belonged. Where she belonged, at home, the only acceptable truth to me. But the very fabric of reality had changed that night.

The night Misa went out of my life. 

The night I had realized there would be no more calls, no more talking for countless hours. No more cuddling when the harshness of life would leave me raw and unsettled. No more football lessons, nor drawing classes. No more of anything we had grown to love together. A chill walk in the park. A quick jog along the stream. Listening to her heartbeat, my head resting on her chest, lost in my thoughts. 

How was I living without her soft, warm brown gaze on me? How? Was it worth it then, keeping on being the photography director of Real Madrid? Was it worth it when nothing remained? Of course not. But it hadn’t been about me for once. We had broken up for her. And that was the hardest part to process.

I remembered so vividly that my sadistic mind had pictured her smile with her dimple on her left cheek and I that I had fidgeted, twisting the bedsheets to make the image go away. That night, I wouldn’t fall asleep for anything. I had known too well I would be dreaming of her holding me close as soon as I had closed my eyes. 

I had tossed and turned in bed, my eyes burning from all the tears. I remembered how hard I had prayed she was slouched in the sofa, wasting the night on her phone before joining me in the bedroom. I had prayed so hard she was about to come, needy before sleep, as usual, to wake me up from this nightmare. 

And in spite of my efforts, I had sunk into a troubled dream where I looked for her in a thick dense forest, the hard sun filtering through the foliage above. The young goalie had been far away, smiling as she hid behind a tree. When I finally had approached her in my dream, Misa’s broad smile had disappeared completely and I had woken up with a jolt. My arm had probed the bed for her comforting body and had fallen onto the cold flatness of the mattress.  

I closed my eyes. The pain was so vivid from the memory. Mechanically, I lit up another cigarette. 

It hadn’t eased for days. A sour suffocating pain had inhabited my chest when I had gone back to work. 

I had cried in my car, parked at the opposite side of the parking lot, some low trees and bushes granting me the privacy I had needed to recompose myself. But it had been no use. I had barely set foot into my office, fresh tears had rolled onto my cheeks. I had locked myself inside. Turning on the computer had not helped me, the numerous tasks filling my to-do list as the device had synchronized. Stress had been taking over me, accentuated by an emotional exhaustion. Her presence had leaked everywhere here too. From the field in the distance, to the photo studio, the Ciudad was where everything had begun, the witness of our friendship and attraction slowly turning into love and care. The Ciudad was her as much as she was Real Madrid. Somehow, the Ciudad was now the ghostly reminder of my gone happiness. 

I had tried to focus back onto work. I had really tried my best. But I hadn’t been able to avoid what was bound to happen. A few days had passed and I had received a new batch of photos from my assistants. My eyes had immediately filled with tears seeing her features. Once again, she was everywhere, even in the very content of my work, having me trapped in an infinite sadness as more pictures of her had downloaded. I had quit my office to get some air, but mostly to smoke the cigarettes I had bought that day. Obviously, smoking hadn’t appeased me in the slightest and I had ended up in the closest restrooms, sobbing in despair as I had grasped the thin lace bracelet I hadn’t had the strength to take off yet.

Angela had helped me a lot. I had spent countless hours on the phone with her, smoking like a fireman, intoxicating myself with regrets as my best friend had tried to help me navigate through guilt and resentment. I had cursed myself for not seeing it coming. What had I been thinking dating a woman like her? What had I been thinking believing this could work? I had genuinely thought I could have made her happy. I was still convinced we were happy somehow. So when did it go so wrong? Had it been it my accident? Or work? How many times had I wished I could go back in time?

Time had not rewound but had passed, and time had helped. I had started to get better day after day. Not to say enjoyable, but life had seemed livable again. I had got used to the faded taste not leaving my mouth, smoking not helping, the cold gray weather of November matching my mood. But it had been the thing I had dreaded the most that had relieved me the most in the end: photography. The lights, the frame, the energy… through the lens, all my negative emotions were turning into beautiful frozen spectacles. Nothing really appealed to me anymore apart from taking pictures. Things happened or did not and I didn’t care and I clung to that remaining sparkle of energy photography was to me. 

During that month, I took thousands of photos, through numerous walks in town and countless nights in clubs. Dancing people had been growing on me. Their joy fascinated me, inaccessible, a mask hiding their own bruises. We were all bruised. It made me feel less bad knowing you could be bruised and beautiful. Bruises don’t show when you dance, let alone when you create something beautiful out of bruised dancing people. My camera had snapped restlessly the swirl of colorful blurry shapes and wild bodies. I had become a recognizable customer among the few lesbian clubs of the capital. I had met people, could have slept with some, except that I had no interest in hookups. I had not interest in anything else than capturing the frenzy of the night that swallowed everything. 

Being a photographer during the night had slowly helped me reconnect with my passion for sport photography during the day. I had realized I could turn the pain into vivid visual emotions there too. Moreover, my first exhibition was still up. So, work had turned back into the creatively challenging place I needed so much. Like a therapy, I hadn’t counted the hours, selecting shots, retouching, imagining the exhibition, the scenography… The players were just models. She was just another model, a particularly pretty model, nothing more. Almost. 

But today, in bone and flesh, jumping and diving even better than she did, she had been more. So much more than a model. Misa had made my numbness dissolve in a heartbeat. It had been a whole month and I felt so lost, smoking in the concrete corner. The last players exited the gray building as I waited, alone, for what exactly? To see her? She had to go out from a different exit because I hadn’t seen her. 

I exhaled the smoke deeply. Was I relieved? Disappointed? I didn’t know. What I did feel was the leap of my heart when the door opened once again, and the goalkeeper went outside, wrapped up into the club’s puffer jacket. 

She paused, looking all around her, until her eyes fell on me. My heart was caught in my throat, my hand frozen with the cigarette a few inches away from my mouth. She was nibbling at her lower lip. Obviously she was uncomfortable. But to my surprise, Misa started to walk toward me. I blinked just to be sure I wasn’t seeing things. I suddenly became aware of the coldness of the air. The wind messed her hair up until she joined me inside the shelter smoking area. 

She stopped in front of me, her hands in her pockets, looking at her feet.

“Hey“, she said.  

I had not heard her soft, roughened voice since then. Our goodbyes on the phone had been the last words exchanged.

“Hey“, I answered, amazed. 

“Eh… I have something to tell you. It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole team guessed the “misacertijo”. Everyone is convinced it’s you I was… seeing. I haven’t confirmed it, I said we’re just friends.“ 

“Oh, you said we are friends?“ I replied, an ironical smile stretching my lips. Misa lifted her gaze up. How weird it was to be that close to her and to look into her eyes. “I mean, it’s obvious that we’re not even friends anymore, right?” I pointed out. 

Of course everybody had guessed who Misa had been dating. We stopped seeing each other from one day to the next. The conclusion hadn’t been hard to make. 

“Eh… no. But you don’t speak to Hayley either. I said you took your distance with players. I wanted to tell you but you never showed up onto the pitch…” 

Something wriggled in my body as I searched about what to answer. I took a puff of cigarette. A gust of wind swept her hair and hauled her smell to me. I closed my eyes, the pain growing back, prickling. I couldn’t stand it. She had to go. 

“Hum… ok. Thanks for telling me.“ I acknowledged and Misa furrowed her brows. 

“You’re not worried about it?“

“Why should I worry? It’s over.“ I replied more bitterly than I wanted to. 

Misa gaze grew so intense it made my throat tighten. She had to stop looking at me like that. I took another puff, the only possible respite to avoid her penetrating look. She shifted her weight. 

“I heard your photo exhibition’s getting ready?“ 

My breathing quickened slightly. What was the fuck she was playing at, engaging in small talk as if nothing had happened. 

I looked away, uncomfortable. 

“Yes it is. It will take place near Gran Via. The opening night has been scheduled on the holidays’ eve.“ 

“Well done, I’m happy for you“, she said. 

I could feel her gaze burning on my face and I dared to glimpse at her. She looked unsure and…sad. Something hot and growling in my stomach stirred again. I could feel numb, or hurt. But I couldn’t feel sad again. Sadness was a forbidden feeling for me. Although, if there was something worse that feeling sad, it was seeing my own sadness on her face. 

My heart was screaming in pain. I had to make sadness go away…

“Thanks,“ I said, hoping the sound of the wind hid the trembling of my voice. “Congratulations to you too. Today’s practice was something. You seem to be doing great.“ 

Misa’s lips drew into the beginning of a smile, her brown eyes back onto mine.

“I’m working very hard, thanks.“

We locked eyes a moment, a moment while there seemed to be thousands of things going on inside her head. She opened and closed her mouth several times as I kept on smoking to hide my confusion. Of course, she was giving it all. She had always given it all. It was one of the things I loved the most about her…

“What about that?“ Misa asked finally, pointing at my cigarette with an evident disgust. 

It made me furious, suddenly, completely. I didn’t know at first, exactly why. I pursed my lips, my face hardening. I got it: her judgment about what I was doing with my life, a life she had chosen not to be part of, was the last thing I needed. Moreover, I was smoking again because of her! 

I looked away. 

“This is none of your business“, I replied coldly.

I crushed my roach in the ashtray, taking the path to the parking lot without another glance. 

And of course, back at home, I cried again for hours, like the whole month had been nothing. Like we had broken up yesterday.

***

That was it! I had just got the last batch of framed photographies, the only missing pieces for the exhibition! The opening was tomorrow and everybody had feared that the five large photos would never arrive. Due to the extremely short timing, I had gone fetch the frames myself at the printing company to keep them safely in my office at the Ciudad. I still had a few things to check with Eneko before going to the gallery. With the exhibition going on I had not been very present. The short filmmaker had been under a lot of pressure and I wanted to make sure he was going to be all right with all the tasks. Christmas time was a busy period. Everybody wanted their funny Christmas special challenge, their ugly jumper photo shoot or their corporate best wishes announcement, all of that on top of the exhibition’s install. Inma, Eneko and I couldn’t rest.

Phew! At least I had the prints now! I exhaled in relief and effort as I pulled the large frames out of my car. They were heavy and I struggled to find a good grip while being able to see where I put my feet. The glass doors of the building opened automatically, letting me inside and I managed to press the elevator button by touch. With my claustrophobia, I had genuinely wondered if I would risk my life more by taking the elevator than climbing the stairs with ten kilos of sight-blocking-forty-inches frames in my hands. The elevator had won. 

I stepped inside walking backward and felt movement near me, followed by the dialing sound of a button pressed. I could see nothing but I knew someone had entered as well. The doors closed themselves and the person spoke. 

“Bueno’ dia’, a cual piso va? Puedo ayudarle?”

The voice and the accent were unmistakeable, leaving me wordless. My hands began to slip along the craft paper wrapped frames and the weight lightened suddenly. The frames slid aside, revealing our faces. Misa’s surprise was so manifest I felt my heart leap again. 

“Er…Hi. Thanks.” I stuttered. “I guess you know what my floor is…” I added with an embarrassed smile. 

She smiled back mildly, her brown eyes resting on my face a second before she freed a hand to press the said floor button. Once again, I was totally confused by her proximity, but at least, I wasn’t focusing on being inside the elevator. 

Misa grabbed the frames back, lifting the weight off me completely. 

“It’s very heavy“, she simply said as I let her take the package. 

I bit my lip. She hadn’t changed, playing the good knight like I was some sort of fragile lady. 

I sighed heavily, getting more upset. Why was she doing that? Charming me? She was the one  who broke up and obviously she was doing fine without me. Her goalkeeping performances were back on top. 

“Eh… Nicky?“ She asked from behind the frames, sending a jolt through my body. I hadn’t heard her saying my name since two months now. “Can I… no, perdon… Are you okay if I come at the exhibition’s opening?”

The elevator stopped suddenly and everything went dark. 

No, no, no! Not that! 

“Mierda…“

I rested my back against the cabin wall. I couldn’t see a thing. All my senses were gone with a growing dread freezing my body. 

“Nicky! Don’t panic! It’s just a power cut.” 

There were rustling sounds of paper, punctuated by swear words, and a light appeared from Misa’s phone. I had not moved. I could not move, putting all my focus onto my breathing. 

You’re not trapped in the elevator.  Breathe. You’re not trapped in the elevator. Breathe. You’re not trapped…

But I sensed it coming. My hands were getting numb and my legs started trembling. I knew I was going to have a panic attack in a few seconds. 

“Please, let’s sit down.” Misa had leant the frames against the wall. 

She was close. So very close. I swallowed nothing. My chest hurt with the suffocating feeling of imprisonment. With no reaction from me, Misa took my hand. Her moves were gentle. I needed gentleness. I told myself to breathe again but I couldn’t find any air and my teeth began chattering. 

“I swear I’m not cold!“ I whined in panic. 

“Shhh, it’s ok. We sit down. It will pass“ She said guiding me all along as I crouched and sat onto the cabin floor. Now freed from the duty of keeping me standing, my legs were shaking so much it was scary. 

“It will pass,“ Misa repeated. Her thumbs brushed the back of my hands. I just realized I was holding hers like crazy. 

“Misa…” I muttered. I needed her. It was too hard. I needed her closer. “Misa, I can’t breathe!”

I pulled at her hands as tears of panic rolled onto my cheeks. 

The brunette slid closer and I grasped her strong arms, my breaths quickening. 

“Take deep breaths Nicky, I promise it will pass.” 

And she wrapped her arms over me.

“Take deep breathes, like this” she repeated, filling her lungs with air and making her chest rise against me. My heart was pulsing in my ears, making me feel more disoriented but I mimicked her, inhaling deeply. 

“Very well, now we blow out.” 

Again Misa exhaled. The smell of her breath reached me as I mirrored her. My face fell against her neck. Her smell wrapped another layer of herselfness all over me. It was working. My breathing had slowed and my chest felt less tense, but my sobs were unstoppable. Lost in her embrace, I just couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t even know why I was crying anymore. I just wanted to spill whatever needed to go out from my body. 

“It’s only a moment,“ Misa said softly, her palms brushing my back in an attempt to soothe me. “I’m sure we’ll be out soon now.“

But was I wanting it to be over soon? My hands had stopped shivering. I had closed my eyes. We could be anywhere now. We could be anytime. Maybe we were still we. It would make sense given that we were holding each other like we always did. But the power did go back on that instant, blowing up my desperate thoughts. The lights filled the tiny space, dazzling and the elevator’s automatic message announced blankly: “System launched successfully. Restart may take a few minutes." 

Frozen against Misa’s chest, I didn’t dare to move. 

“It’s over, you’ve been great.” The goalie patted my shoulder. 

I pulled back, wiping the tears from my eyes, breathless like after a run. I felt so drained I was unable to quit the shelter of her arms. Misa didn’t rush me. My eyes fell on hers, filled with their usual intensity, and travelled down to her mouth. Her lips were inches away, parted, waiting… Her eyes went shinier as I brought my face closer forgetting everything I had ever told myself since we broken up. I felt her hands pulling me closer and at that precise moment, when our lips were about to brush, the elevator motioned upward again. 

We parted in haste and got up just in time for the doors to open on the next floor. A lot of people were chatting in front of the cabin, they had probably met here when the power went down and were going back to their business. 

Shaky, Misa and I took the frames out of the elevator. 

“I’ll be ok. Thanks.“ I told the goalkeeper. After what had nearly happened, I needed my space now more than ever. 

“De nada. Oh, about the opening night… what do you think?“ Misa asked in a low voice. She was back to peering at her feet. 

I hesitated, in no ability to clear my confused thoughts. 

“See you tomorrow”, I replied finally with half a smile. 

***

Champagne and cocktails flowed freely while lounge music filled the vast reception hall. Bottles were opened and poured in stemmed glasses at an enticing rhythm, the loud pops creating a funny addition to the quiet notes in the background. But despite the wonderful decor, I was nervous. 

Of course, I was nervous. I wasn’t used to being under the spotlights, moreover in a foreign country, at a party of the most famous football club of the world. Ana was eagerly twitching beside me. It had been her idea to pair the exhibition’s opening with the traditional Christmas party. Every year the club organized a special event for employees, members and a well selected guest list. For this edition, the pairing had led them to choose a gallery in the center of the capital, with a vast reception room adjoining to it where the party would take place later. It was meant to be quite a show. On her side, Ana had been very attentive to be seen as the thinking head of all of this. But for now, she, Inma, Eneko and I, were standing in a neat line facing the entrance to welcome the guests. 

The first ones to arrive were a group of employees from the commercial department, quickly followed by some of the players.  Everybody had put on their best outfit in a demonstration of good and not so good taste. Olga was in a rather odd dress-suite but Maelle wore a smart sparkling skirt and a white shirt.

As for me, I had spent hours deciding what to wear for that prestigious occasion. I didn’t want to be too formal but not too relaxed either. Thus, I had sent dozens of very doubtful selfies in front of the mirror to Angela.

“Nicky, we talked about this a hundred times, you’re not wearing a shirt!“, Angela had said on the speaker. 

“I have nothing else! All the tops I have are shirts or T shirts!“

“Go for a dress then! The dark blue one, you look stunning in it!“

“But I never wear dresses, I feel weird in a dress…“ I had moaned, searching the pile of clothes. 

“You said you didn’t want to wear pants either, that it was too common! You said you wanted to stand out but in a good way… That were your precise words and we both know what you want deep down…“ 

I had rolled my eyes. “Well, I don’t! You do?“ 

“You want to be sexy as hell so you can impress everyone this evening“, she had answered.

My brain had instantly pictured the face of the goalkeeper gagging, looking at a very attractive version of me. My lips had stretched into a smile and I had surrendered, “Ok, I’m trying the blue one again, but I’m not putting stilettos. I hate stilettos… What about boots?“ 

“Humm, with heels if you want your outfit to remain chic….“

I had dug out a pair of ankle high varnished black boots with medium heels I had had probably bought for some kind of party and worn two or three times in my life. I had put them on, shoved my hair to the side and sent a photo of my reflection to Angela. 

“You’re stunning Nicky!  it’s giving an Im-good-on-my-own-boss-girl-and-look-at-what-you-lost vibe. I say perfect.“

“Perfect“, I had echoed. 

So here I was, wearing a silky dark blue dress and heeled boots, casually chatting with people, a cup of champagne in one hand and a small bag in the other, giving a very worldly version of Nicky to the now crowded place. I didn’t know where to look, everybody greeted me, congratulated me. I shook hands of people I had no idea who they were, explained my work dozens of times and emptied several glasses far too quickly. 

An hour or so had passed and I was in a long conversation about my vision of sport photography with a journalist named Franck when Misa arrived. She hadn’t overdressed. She was wearing simple brown suit pants and a silver long sleeve top. I followed her from the corner of my eyes, watching her looking around, clearly searching for something or someone in the crowd. 

She took a glass, her moves unsure, and looked a moment at the photographs hung on the walls. She was getting closer when she turned her head. Our eyes finally met. Her lips parted slightly before she closed them again and looked away. Misa had always been pretty bad at hiding her emotions. 

A second later she had disappeared into the crowd and I excused myself to Franck, unable to talk or listen anymore. Knowing Misa was there had troubled me, a now usual feeling. I quickly exited the hall to the terrace to light up a cigarette, took a few puffs and breathed in relief the sweet poison filling my lungs. It was a pitiful compensation. I had not felt the satisfaction I had expected when she had seen me. I didn’t know anymore what I wanted her to feel. Impressed? Angry? Sad? She had definitely seemed sad rather than impressed or angry.

As a matter of fact, so was I now, smoking on the terrace on my own. Back then, I had dreamt to celebrate the opening of my first exhibition with her. 

With her…

I pulled at my cigarette, forcing my mind to go blank again, my now well known strategy to retain some of my sanity, when I heard a soft voice close by.

Her voice. 

“Léa please don’t…“

She was probably just around the corner, only a few feet away, still she could not see me and I could not see her.

“Why not, I like you Misa. And you like me“, Léa’s assured voice replied. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t like you like this…“ 

I was frozen, torn between hearing what I shouldn’t and knowing what was going to happen. 

“Don’t you think it could change?“

“I…I don’t know Léa… I don’t think so.“

There was a silence during which I dared to pull at my cigarette. 

“It’s her, right? You’re still in love with her?“ The low, sad voice of Léa inquired. 

My heart was drumming in my chest, my hurt and mangled soul hanging on her answer as I held my breath for what seemed the longest seconds of my life.

“Of course I still love her“, Misa’s broken voice echoed in the cold night. 

Starting over In Madrid - Season 2

Chapter 14 ➺ The fall

Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.

WC: 7K words TW: angst, sex +18

Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter Chapter 13 ➺ Dangerous steps

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I was caught in the fog and I didn’t really get why Hayley was entering my hospital room. I could see her face clearly though and it was betraying her anxiousness. 

The bright vivid lights tinted the place with a gloomy atmosphere, an ironical contrast with the poster of a child playing at the beach hung on the wall. My eyes had fallen on the frame each time I had woken up, the random boring picture was now printed on my retina. My phone had died long ago, probably while I was taken to the block and with no charger I could only wait for someone to visit me and bring me the precious device that could connect me to the world. 

Anyway, I had slept the whole time, barely awake when nurses had come to check on me every now and then. Everything was going good. My wounds had been stitched and the test results showed no sign of head trauma or broken bones. I had been appeased to know the clinic had contacted my parents to reassure them as well.

Fortunately I was in no state to be stressed out, the drugs doing more than their job. I had felt a little helpless, shaken by my accident, but sleep had taken me back as soon as I had started to wonder how things were going for the team and for Misa. 

I couldn’t fight sleep. Even now as I blinked and swallowed, trying painfully to find my way through the fog, my mouth dry and my limbs heavy. Hayley’s visit was lighting my gloomy bedroom with her friendly presence, although coming alone, she was revealing the absence of the person I wanted to see the most. 

“Here you are Nicky!” My friend greeted me, smiling mildly. 

“Hey.. yeah”, I replied in a slurred voice as the Aussie came at my bedside.

“Sweetie, in what a state you are…”, she said patting my shoulder with a pout. “I fell on the doctor. Seven stitches on the arm and three on the left side of your waist, she said. Nothing’s broken and the scanner’s good too. You’ll probably count the bruises tomorrow though” Hayley broke a smile. “I already knew you were all right, of course. You can imagine we called the clinic as soon as the match ended.” 

I remembered Misa's distress suddenly. Her anxious face too was printed in my mind. I opened my mouth but Hayley went on before I could speak. “We lost. 1 to 3”. 

Silence filled the room as we gazed at each other, our looks heavy with what the score implied. 

“Where’s…”

“Misa.” The winger finished. “Hum, everything has been hard for her, she… it’s too risky for her to come right now”, Hayley answered, taking my hand in hers. 

I fought the fog taking me again, my mouth parched. 

“Hayley, tell me what happened…Please.”

The winger sighed but her voice was calm, “When they took you away, well, Misa did her best to act normal. We were all shocked and scared for you of course but she cares about you like a girlfriend does and she had a really hard time refocusing on the match…”

I closed my eyes. My head was spinning and I reopened them at once, shifting my position onto the bed. I grasped my wrist in a reassuring gesture, feeling the Canarian bracelet under my thumb. I’m really spoiling everything, I thought sadly.

Hayley seemed to hear my silent despair. “Nobody’s mad about you Nicky, Misa the least!” 

“Why didn’t she come with you?” I asked, not getting why I was being left alone when I needed her here so badly.

“To protect you Sweetie. Lea’s figured it out about you two. Misa told me. She got it as soon as Misa rushed at your side and looked completely panicked when she saw you lying on the floor covered in blood. She really tried to hide it when you were gone but a close friend could tell she was upset. During the game, Misa did some pretty bad mistakes, and on that part, anybody could tell it wasn’t her night. Misa and I met shortly in the empty staff room after the game ended and we agreed I’d visit you not to draw more attention to her. I had to skip the debrief to be able to come during visit hours. She wants to call you soon though — speaking of that…” Hayley pulled a charger out of her bag and dropped it onto my bed table. “Here! You know when you’ll be out?” 

“They’re going to check me tomorrow morning, I hope I’ll be free to go…”, I sighed and blinked, Hayley helping me to plug my phone into the charger.

“Great, Misa asked me to tell you she’s going to pick you up. I know you want to talk to her but I think you should go back to sleep. You look terribly tired Nicky. I’ll call Misa to let her know you’re fine.” 

“Yes, sleep…” I stuttered, it was becoming really hard to fight it. My mind was back in a thick cloud. “Tell Misa I miss her…”

“I will. Take care, sweetie” the Aussie brushed my hair affectionately. 

Her footsteps sounded like a distant noise from somewhere far from the room. Sleep swallowed me back a heartbeat later.

***

Her almond eyes. Her cute nose. Her plump lips. 

I blinked. Was she really here? 

Her whole face was so close I could see the grainy complexion of her skin, showing with the soft reddish light of dawn that soaked the hospital room. I blinked several more times, dazed, the fog dismissing itself as I woke up properly for the first time since the accident. 

“Buenos dias, Azucari” she greeted me. Her lips fell and stayed onto my forehead. 

“Misa!” I exclaimed reaching for her face. Immediately, pain awoke in various parts of my body. 

“He he, easy, mi Nicky,” she said. I winced. Her rough fingers stroked my cheek. Her brown eyes were on me. The pain didn’t bother me. All I cared about was her smell filling my lungs. 

“How are you feeling?“ she asked.

“Much better than yesterday. Much better like this.“ I confessed, rolling — not without difficulties — onto my side to snuggle against her. 

Everything felt so right under her gentle caresses, and breathing in her scent, I was tempted to go back to sleep. As she didn’t speak any more, I started to doze off, soothed, my body molded to fit the warm embrace of her arms. 

Misa. I missed you so much. 

Suddenly, I remembered what Hayley had told me about the game, about what had happened and a storm of guilt broke over my head, dismissing sleep as fast as a blink of the eye.

 “Misa! I’m so sorry!“ I mumbled, grasping her sweater. 

“What are you taking about Nicky?“

Her smell was so appeasing, but imagining what she endured was stabbing like a thorn.

“The match…you lost… because of me…” I said, my face buried against her torso. 

“You’re not responsible Cari, I don’t blame you.“

Her palms brushed my arm and she laid another kiss onto my forehead.

“You know that I do, indirectly. Our whole situation does.“ 

Misa stayed silent a moment while her large hands kept stroking me. Her smell. Her wonderful smell continued to smooth me even if my heart was beating faster, waiting for her to speak. 

“It was a little hard… Not what happened to you. I mean of course I was scared for you, but what was harder was to hide everything. I had no news for hours… I didn’t know what to do. I just could do nothing. I couldn’t deal with not knowing about you and faking to care about the rest...” 

She sighed heavily, and hugged me a little tighter. 

“I’m so sorry baby…“ I repeated.

“Don’t be. You’re safe and that’s all that matters”.

Three knocks echoed onto the door and, modest, Misa parted from me.

“Buenos dias!“ The nurse entered with a breakfast trolley and various medical equipment. “We’ll do a complete check up today. How was the night?“

“I slept like a baby“ I confessed, straightening up. 

“Perfecto! Give me your arm please.” 

The nurse took my tension, my temperature and examined the entire collection of my bruises. She ended up checking the wounds. 

“You have to change your dressings every two days. I can show you how to do it but it seems difficult for you to reach your scars. You can ask for a nurse to do it for you at home“

“Puedo hacerlo por ella…“ Misa, who had been waiting by the wall, had stepped forward timidly. 

“Si, por supuesto puedes! Te muestro. Please lie on your front.“ She added toward me. 

“What did you say” I asked her. 

“I can change your dressing if you’re okay with it…?” 

“Oh” I blurted out. Misa had the timid look on her face she always had when she was unsure of herself or out of her comfort zone. She was so adorable, and so caring I bit my lip to prevent myself from whining. “You sure?” I inquired guiltily. I didn’t know how I could deal with Misa taking care of me on the top of everything. 

But her hesitation was gone. “I’m pretty sure about it. On your front!”

I rolled over to let them have a better access to the scar on my back. 

“Bueno, coges el vendaje muy delicadamente ….”

They went on in full Spanish. I grasped a few words but it wasn’t really paying attention to it. My mind was focused on the delicate touch of the brunette, and on her attentive listening. I took a glimpse of her concentrated features. My heart tightened and I closed my eyes, the scar prickling when she sprayed it with sanitizer. I was feeling safe under her care as her strong hands pressed the new dressing lightly as a feather onto the wound. 

“Muy bien Senora. Una infermera de verdad.” The nurse told the footballer before speaking to me. “Everything’s fine. I feel like you’ll be free to go once you’ve seen the doctor. You’ll be off work for two weeks.”

“Wonderful… wait what?” I froze, remembering the huge amount of work waiting for me.

“You can’t work in your current state. The wounds have to heal.”

“But but… I can’t stay off work this long, not now” I stared at the nurse with disbelief.

“Nicky, of course you can! What are you talking about?” Misa stepped in. 

I shot her an accusatory glance. Why was she intervening? This was not even concerning her…

The nurse laid a comforting hand onto my arm. “You’ve been sedated and the cuts are deep. You don’t realize it now but you’ll be very tired. Plus we advise minimum movement to ensure healthy clean scars and to avoid any infection. That comes with resting.” 

Her tone was full of compassion but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being grounded like a child.

“Alright, I’ll send the doctor. Have a prompt recovery and most of all, rest” she repeated, glancing behind me.

“Puede confiar en mi ”  Misa answered.

***

“You’re here at last!" I exclaimed when the goalkeeper crossed the front door. “Did you get my SD card?“

“Yep, but first and foremost I’ve got lunch for both of us” she cheered, shoving a craft bag in the air.

“Great. Give me the card please, I’m so late on this!“ 

Dropping the meal onto the kitchen table, Misa huffed, “No I won’t, Nicky!” 

“Are you kidding me?!” I freaked out, arms crossed. 

Misa crossed her arms as well, her gaze burning.

“I’ll give you nothing until I’ve changed those dressings and you’ve eaten something!“

“Come on Mis’! I’m weeks late with those visuals! I have to get them done tonight!“

But the brunette didn’t move. 

“You know I strongly disapprove of you work during your recovery, so, if you want your SD card, you let me take care of your wounds. I’ll wash my hands. Lie on the couch.”

I moaned, frustrated, but obeyed, knowing deep down Misa was right, and I heaved myself onto the sofa. Moving was still painful, especially the affected arm. Misa sat beside me and put a box of medical stuff onto her lap. The smell of sweat and grass clung to her, witch led me to assume she had not taken the time to shower and had come right after training.  

“Vale, I’ll start with the worst one…“

She took my arm carefully and fiddled with the corner of the plaster.

“Ow! You were softer last time!”, I whimpered as Misa tried to remove the dressing.

“Perdón Nicky, but it’s stuck!” she apologized. She scratched the dressing from a different angle. “Better?” 

I nodded. Both of us were relaxing, allowing her to slowly pull the piece of medical tape apart from the skin. When she had removed the old dressing, she put sanitizer on a cotton pad to clean the long cut.

“Does it hurt?” she asked as she applied the cotton to the still fresh stitches. 

“No, it’s just a little sensitive now. Moving’s more painful.” 

“It would be less so if you stuck to what the doctors told you. You shouldn’t be working. Even from home.”

“We’ve talked about this. There are things to handle. The Copa de la Reina starts next month and we have nothing. And my photo exhibition? If nothing moves, Ana’s going to cancel it.“

The goalie continued to clean my wound in silence. I watched her brows twitch or lift now and then, her plump lips pinching like they usually did when she was focusing on something. After a couple of minutes of both of us saying nothing, she started singing absentmindedly. 

“Porque desde que estás aquí

Aquí cerca de mí

Que tú eres mi baby

Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa

Que no me deja dormir

Sigo pensando en ti

Que tú eres mi baby

Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa”

I recognized the song from our holidays in Formentera. Her warm voice was like water, slowly running down, soothing me. Her voice was softer than most Spanish people’s. I focused on that, on her softness, her careful gestures, her worries about my state. I knew I had not been nice to her since she arrived tonight. 

“Misa, can I ask you something?” I said, wanting to break the ice.

“Si, claro.” 

“Why do I feel like you don’t talk like other Spaniards? Do you have an accent?” 

The question made her chuckle.

“Es el acento canario! We skip a lot of letters like the letter S. For example, I don’t say España but E’paña. “Mas goles“ — more goals — is ma’ gole’“. Come on, this dressing is done. Lie on your stomach, I’ll clean your back’s stitches”. 

“Ohh! That’s why I thought nothing was plural for you ahahah! Ouch!“ I winced again, the scar on my back was still sore. “Tell me something else about Canarias.” I inquired, curious about her birthplace and wishing to focus on something rather than the pain.

“You already know my island is Gran Canaria, the round one. We have a microclimate in Canaria’, it’s 25 degrees and sunny almost all year. La’ Palma’ is one of the biggest cities of E’paña.” 

Now that she’d explained it, I noticed every missing S in her way of speaking.

“Oh nice! Is there a metro or tramway in Las Palmas?” 

“No but our wawa network works well!” Misa answered proudly. 

I didn’t understand what she was talking about so I repeated interrogatively, “Wawa?” 

“Jaja, yes, we call our buses Wawa’ and again I’m not really pronouncing the letter G, you spell it G-U-A-G-U-A.”

“Guagua”, I echoed. 

“I love mi i’la - my island - I love Madrid too but it’s not the same and my entire family is there…”

Misa started to put compresses and tape over my second wound with much care. But there was something else behind her concentration. Something sad about her. I realized I had not even asked her if she was okay…

“How things are going at the ciudad for you?” I said more quietly. 

“Fine.” She replied, nibbling at her lips suddenly, an evident sign of nervousness. 

I fidgeted on the sofa. 

“What’s wrong Mis’?” 

“Stop wiggling Nicky, I’m not done…” 

But she was not going to get on with it. I deliberately shoved her away from my back. 

“Misa, I can tell something’s not right. What is it?” I said softly but firmly.

“Vale..” She agreed, lifting her brown eyes toward mine. “Humm, I suck” she simply says. 

“Why are you saying that, baby?”

She took a deep breath.

“I’m not doing well enough, the coach told me. I’ve already been pushed out of the national team, I can’t fuck it up at Madrid as well. I’ve nothing else to say, come on let me finish covering that cut, it’s not safe.” 

She made me lie back onto the sofa, chewing her bottom lips with more intensity. 

“Fuck baby, I didn’t know it was this bad…” I began, I had been so obsessed about my own state and work I had been completely blind about Misa. I hesitated, guilt chocking me again, “You do seem very nervous to me these days…” 

She huffed, furrowing her brows. 

“Dio’ Nicky! Of course I’m nervous! Do you realize what I’m going through? I’m worried sick about you since your accident! During the game, when it happened, I couldn’t be there for you and nobody was there for me. The coach spoiled me during half time and the girls, they saw I was acting weird. Everybody got there was something going on between you and me but fortunately, it’s no secret that you, Hayley and I are friends and I think Hayley truly saved us by visiting you at the hospital… but that was so close! I thought we’d be caught and I didn’t even know if you were ok in the first place! All I was hearing was how shitty my performance was! And now? Now my recovering girlfriend isn’t healing well because she refuses to rest! Like her job’s more important than her health! More important that anything else…“ she concluded bowing her head, back to biting her lips. “Come on, this dressing is done. You can have your SD card if you want”.

I straightened up, swallowing what she had said.

“Misa…” I began, taking her hands in mine. They were warm like always, her fingers tips twitching against my palms. My guts knotted themselves under the sad stare of the young brunette. “We both know we…“

The directive tone of my phone-ring split the silence, making both of us jump in fear. 

I glanced at the screen. 

No surprise. 

Ana.

“I gotta answer,“ I sighted apologetically, grabbing my cellular. 

Misa sent the device a hard stare, “Por supuesto…“  

“Hello Ana?“

“Hello Nicky, thanks god you’ve picked up! I’ve sent you a brief about La Copa de la Reina, we can’t wait any longer to have some elements to work with. Of course I’m not asking you to do it while you’re off but can you put one of your assistant on it? And there is a meeting at 11’ tomorrow with the designer team I really think you should not miss, you could attend in Visio so it would not be too tiring for you. What do you think? And please tell your camera assistant to film with a wider angle before we go abroad on Tuesday. The last shots were close to good to nothing. Is it okay for you?”

“Hum yes. I’ll do my best.“ I said though I had barely registered what she’d told me. I sensed a bad headache growing behind my temple. 

“You’re the best Nicky. I knew I could count on you. I can’t wait for you to get back with us, we need you here. Take care of you.“

“Thanks Ana…“ I answered weakly, fatigue weighting onto my shoulders with the furious look of the goalkeeper tracking me as I paced the living. 

“Oh Nicky, wait…” Ana interjected before I hung up. “ I have to ask you something. I’ve heard nonsense about you dating a player from the female football team. That’s rubbish, of course?“

“W…what?” I stammered.

My eyes founds Misa’s. Her confusion mirroring my silent panic. 

“The rumor of you being with one of our girls, it’s false right?” Ana insisted.

Breath. Nicky, breath. How she knew? Who had told her? Was it that obvious? 

Misa straitened up, her gaze burning with incomprehension and I managed to react at last.

“Nonsense… Yeah. I don’t know where that comes from.”  My own voice assured, distant and detached when my heart had doubled its beating. 

“Someone from the marketing department mentioned it when we were talking about you. Anyway great, I’m relieved! Have a good evening, Nicky.”

I hung up, and stayed frozen in the middle of the room.

“She just asked me if I’m dating a player… They are rumors. In spite of all our efforts… she knows…” my voice broke.

“Hey hey hey,” the goalie caught me in her arms as the first tears rolled down my cheeks. “It’s not that bad. She believed you, right?”

“I don’t know! I’m tired! I’m so tired Misa”! I cried, pressing against her chest.

“It’s okay Azucri, it’s okay… we don’t have to deal with it now. You’re off work. Nobody’s going to ask you more questions about it!” 

I tried to speak but words were drown into sobs. Stress was saturating me, penetrating every inch of my body. “I can’t! I can’t deal with everything going on! I’m so tired…“ I managed to cry out.

“Shhh. Estoy aquí Nicky, I’m here. Let it go, you’re exhausted.“ Misa’s slow and steady speaking channelled a part of my emotions. The strong smell of sweat that was so hers helped me to remain grounded here, in her arms, rather than swept away by panic. 

She continued softly. “First, we’re going to eat something, vale? And then I’ll give you your SD card. We’ll take things slow. I can help you select some photos?“ 

How was she doing, saying exactly what I needed to hear? Being anything I needed her to be right now…

“I love you…“ I sobbed, wrapping my arms around her. “I love you so much!“

Misa held me to her chest.

“Shhh, I love you more.“ She whispered.

My heart felt so heavy, its load barely bearable. Misa… I felt like she was going to be taken from me. I knew my heart wouldn’t stand it… I had to quit Real Madrid. Yet I was about to make it in my photographer career. I only needed a few months but it looked like I wouldn’t be granted this extra time. The more time passed the more suspected we were becoming. The conclusion left me inert, drained from turning things over and over in my head, trying to align the pieces of an impossible puzzle. 

I snuggled against the brunette, taking in her beautiful face. Her sad eyes bore into mine when our lips met. The salty tang of tears penetrated our kiss.

“I love you so much,” I repeated, sadness and stress changing into desperation as my fingers dug into her training jersey. 

She applied her lips to my temple  “Estoy aqui, I’m here!” 

I stayed a little longer crying against her, the sobbing easing with the delicate touch of the young goalie. 

Panic was gone but had left me exhausted. Soreness burned in my chest as I kissed Misa again, fully, engaging my whole being into our making out, my hands trailing along her flanks in an attempt to pull her even closer. The brunette exhaled deeply, her hands grasping my face. 

“Te quiero mucho…” she murmured, her fingers gently wiping the tears away. 

My lips fell on hers again, insistent, demanding, and I instinctively gripped the hem of her sweater to pull it upward.

“Hummm?” Her wordless moan questioned against my lips. 

I nodded, barely breaking our kiss, letting my body tell her what I needed. Her taste filled my mouth, hot, our kiss pausing only to let me pull off her jersey. It wasn’t feverish, it was intense. I needed her, whole, and nothing else. 

Misa pulled back, “We shouldn’t. In your current state…“ 

“I really don’t care” I yelped, swallowing her warning. 

I straddled her lap, pulling off her sport bra which joined her sweater onto the floor. Her plump lips wrapped themselves around mine, her almond eyes casting their tender, intense, chestnut light on me. 

Losing myself in her, my fingertips brushed the soft shape of her breast as my kisses grazed over the column of her neck and descended to her collar bone. Her skin was slightly sticky here, its smell intoxicating. I filled my lung with it, sighing my irrepressible need of her, and my nose grazed the flower tattooed along her sternum. The scar on my back itched as I bent over but I ignored it. I ran my lips over her breast, licking my way through her gasps, her hands losing themselves into my hair when the first aroused moans escaped her lips. 

I sucked her nipples gently. She tasted of sweat. Its tang was salty and lasting in my mouth. It wasn’t really good but it was hers, and right now, it was all that mattered to me. She pulled my face back to hers, our mouthes finding each other again in a twirl of kisses and sadness we couldn’t shake off as we grasped each other desperately. We were not daring to stop our making out, committed in our kiss like we were about to be pulled apart at any moment.

“I love you,“ Misa panted and slipped her hand under my pants. 

 A shiver ran through my body at the sudden contact over my lips. How easy it was to forget myself into her touch. It was urgent, almost rushed, her fingers slipping through my folds as my tongue swirled against hers. 

Misa. Her touch. Tears and pleasure. Everything was blurring so fast in my mind, love and enjoyment merging with sadness in a melancholic blend. I knew I was not going to last long but tonight above all night, coming without her was unthinkable.

“Slow down” I whispered, my hand coming over hers. Her wet, questioning look glazed my face as I led my hand under the waistband of her training pants. 

A small naughty smile curled her lips and she rose her hips to let me pull off her pants. We finished to undress each other slowly, careful not to mess with the two large plasters covering my wounds, Misa’s moves were infinitely gentle, slipping her hands under my T shirt and unhooking my bra. Then, she laid down onto the tiny couch to pull me over her. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her face, soft, beautiful, and my fingers slid down her stomach as I watch her lips part and tremble. 

She welcomed my caresses by a soft moan, her own hand mirroring me without delay. Her fingers circled my clit, her other hand falling onto the small of my back to pull me upward.

“Misa…“ I sighed, overwhelmed, her fingers pursuing their mission. 

She opened her mouth but I silenced her with a new tremendous kiss, my thighs pushing against hers, seeking more of her hand to accentuate the pressure. An insatiable hunger had taken over me. Making love with her, we were knotting our souls together into one bundle nobody could tear apart and that thought made me feel insanely good. Still I needed more of her. I needed her own enjoyment. I needed her to fall apart like I was about to. 

My fingers met her pussy again, wet, blazing, and she let slip a tormented sound inside my mouth. I found her clit and flickered it slowly, careful to brush that spot I knew she liked very much. A cry of longing inhabited the room. I loved that cry. It was both a reward and a way to the bliss. 

“Cry for me baby…“ I whispered against her neck, my index copying her circular moves, “I’m close. Come with me!“

Misa let out another loud moan.

“Espera un poco… Wait“ she asked.

Her hips thrust into my hand to set the right pace, a faster one which her own fingers followed as well, pressing slightly less onto my pussy. 

“Fuck…” I sighed, sensing the waves of joy still approaching. “Can’t wait…“ I warned.

Misa grasped my chin, breath short, sweat numbing her upper lips and her almond eyes locked onto mine.

“Come mi amor, just look at me.“ She said, the softness of her voice unbearable.

Her thumb fell onto my clit as she slid two fingers inside. I didn’t even need any of this, her loving eyes were more than doing there job.

“Misa!“ I cried, the simultaneous sensations pushing me toward the release. 

Her gaze snapped something inside me. I shouted her name several times yet I couldn’t stop the pleasure from hitting me like a thunderstorm. My legs gave away. My body crashed onto the spaniard while moaning more obscene sounds. 

When I was finally able to straighten up again, I found myself locked inside the arms of the goalie, her face hidden into the crook of my neck as I felt her chest trembling under my body. 

“Misa?” 

The goalie stayed silent, her chest rose up as she took a deep breath. 

“Misa!“ I called again, fidgeting to free myself from her grip. 

I pulled back discovering the goalie’s face stricken with tears. 

“I came too…“ She sobbed, hiding her face back in her hand. “Please…“ She added, pulling me back against her. 

Taken aback, I nested myself back into her arms, pressing my forehead against her. 

“I got you.” I said, pulling her closer. 

 Her arms surrounded my waist and she hugged me tight, my fingers rubbing through her hair.

“Are you going to be alright on your own when I’ll be abroad with the team?” She asked. She sounded liked she had stopped crying but sadness hadn’t left her face.

“I’ll be fine, baby. Really Misa, do not worry about me, okay?” I insisted, dreading to be the reason of an other goalkeeping catastrophe.

“Can you promise me you’ll rest?”

We straitened up on the couch and Misa glared at me, not bothering to wipe her wet eyes. Guilt surged inside me thinking how caring she was. What was I bringing to her apart from problems and worries? What choice did I really have about work? My boss counted on me and I secretly counted on my exhibition to really launch my career. Misa seemed to guess my unease and frowned slightly.

“I promise,“ I lied.

She hugged me once again, sighing. “Gracias…“ 

I held her tight, beating myself up for having lied to her. I focused onto my goal. My finger tips smoothed the furrowed brows of the goalkeeper who closed her eyes, my little touches on her face soothing her. 

I will resign for you, Misa, I promise you I will. I just need to last four more months as photography director, a first exhibition, to prop up my CV. I’ll look for a new job then. We’ll be together for real. We’ll be happy…

The warm voice of the goalkeeper pulled me out of my reveries. “Please Cari, let’s eat. I don’t know about you but I’m starving…“ 

She just made me realize for the second time of the day how bad I was neglecting her. 

***

A few days later, I settled in front of the TV with a backache from sitting all day. As expected, I had not been able to keep my promise of taking some rest. Ana had drowned my assistants with reviews, asking for adjustment after adjustment. In the end, I had had no choice but to come to their rescue and do the job myself. I suspected my boss of putting them through hell so I wouldn’t dare to imagine extending my sick leave. 

Anyway, I had finally put work aside to enjoy a quiet evening at home and was bracing myself for the kick off of the third Champion’s League match: Juventus versus Real Madrid, a meal on my lap and fresh soda in hand. 

The whistle blew and the match began nicely. Straight from the start, Caroline Weir rushed past the Italian defenders, aiming for Signe Brunn, Signe striking hard and sending the ball soaring. The ball rebounded off the fists of the goalkeeper Pauline Peyraud-Magnin, yet, Caroline had moved forward and was in the best position to recover it. Quick and precise, she managed to kick it right into the net before the goalkeeper had the time to dive for it. 

The Madrid players and I burst into joy. I jumped from the sofa in triumph, too fast, awakening a prickling around the wound on my waist. I couldn’t care less. All I wanted was the game making the team and Misa feel great again. 

The match resumed and the ball was given back to Juventus. They lost it again a few passes later and the following minutes were a succession of lost balls and touches, both goalkeepers having very little to do. 

On the 35th minute, Sofia Cantore managed to get in between Rocio and Olga and ended up doing a nice center, recovered by Cristiana Girelli who shot right at the left goal corner. Misa jumped high toward the ball but could do nothing but stare helplessly as it landed at the back of the net. Cheers from the crowd. Silence on the Madrid side. The shot had been neat and strong, really hard to stop but Misa pulled a face. Her clean sheet was gone. In need to prove herself after the catastrophe against Madrid CFF, I knew she felt it heavier tonight. 

The occasion presented itself soon. When the Italian forward Sofia Cantore escaped on her own right after the goal kick, going back straight to the cage, Misa readied herself for the shot. At the last minute, she decided to come out of the penalty area, rushing at the footballer coming to her at full speed with the ball rolling at her feet. But it went wrong. Sofia dribbled the goalie quite easily and shot right into the cage. As such, Real Madrid took its second goal. 

My stomach began to knot, Misa had completely mistimed coming off her line and her mistake had been hardly punished for having taking the risk of leaving her cage exposed. The whistle blew for halftime and the players walked toward the locker room. The camera lasted a moment on the goalie’s tense face, her jaw clenched, frustrated and angry. She knew that goal was on her and like every goalkeeper those goals were the worst to swallow.

Fortunately, the second half started much better, Caroline and Linda managing to score respectively at the 61th and 79th minute, but the wind clearly changed again past the 85th minute. Juventus managed to get a corner, shooting it nicely to the waiting head of Estelle Cascarino, her header aiming for the second goal post. Misa jumped, arms stretched to the maximum. The tips of her gloves hit the ball but the angle was unfortunate. The ball rebounded inside the cage. Misa had just conceded an own goal. 

I shrank into the couch, afraid. Clearly, something was not right with the young goalie. I had not the time to dig on the taught though. Juventus had taken the ball back toward Misa’s cage, Misa bracing herself for another attack. Hopefully, Maelle Lakrar nicely tackled the Italian striker and the ball rolled to Olga’s feet. But the defender was under the constant pressing of Cantore, stopping her to clear the ball away. After a few unsuccessful dribbles, Olga finally decided to pass it back to Misa. Girelli sprinted toward the goalkeeper, forcing Misa to do a rushed clearance to scare the danger away. However, Misa shot straight in front of the cage and her pass was intercepted by the midfielder Ariana Caruso, sending the ball high in the air. Misa followed the ball running backward, ready to catch it but it descended at hand level right behind her. She jumped. The tips of her gloves missed the ball only to see it coming down inside the net. 

I didn’t want to watch anymore. Misa was lying on the grass, the Italian player and crowd roars filled the stadium. The filming didn’t allow me to see more of Misa’s despair. I didn’t need it to know it was bad. She wasn’t well at all. 

I cleared the remaining of my meal and did the dishes, my mind clouded. I heard the whistle signal the game end. Three to four. Misa had taken four goals facing a clearly dominated team. Three of them could have been avoided at the least. 

It was bad. I had never seen her play like that. 

I didn’t know what to do. Usually I was with her at the stadium, gathering my photography equipment before waiting for her in a desert corridor or at the parking lot. After a bad game, just a glance at the goalie would reassure or worry me. I would act depending on her state. I could read very well when Misa preferred to be left alone, or when she’d seek the confort of a shared bedroom during the night afterward. But tonight, for the first time, I wasn’t there and I felt like we were both on our own. 

So, I waited for her call. 

Minutes. 

Hours.  

It was nearly 1 in the morning and I had no call, no message. My heart sank.

At 2’ o clock, I could stand no more. I grabbed my phone. The dialing sound lasted. Angst gripped my limbs as I wondered if she was going to pick up. 

“Hola…”

The goalie answered, finally. Her voice was so hoarse she couldn’t be sleeping. Had she been crying? 

“Fuck Misa! I was so worried… you didn’t call… I saw the match, I know you’ll be brooding but please tell me…how are you?”

“Buah, not very well I guess…” she said before sniffing.

I sensed my saliva dry in my mouth. Silence settled between us as I waited for her to go on, however, she said nothing else, thus I inquired with caution, “Sweetie… I know it must be hard. Is there anything I can do?”

I heard her sniff again. 

“Eh… no, I… we…”

She sighted heavily and angst gripped me a little more. 

“I can’t…” she began but stopped to let a rasping breath.

My gusts knotted around themselves as I stayed floating in the awful quietness. I knew what was coming next. Dread crushed me. I muttered a voiceless prayer, not daring to speak, wanting nothing more than to stop the time and space so it wouldn’t happen.

“I think we should stop.”

If only I could have been wrong. 

Silence settled again and I could only hear the loud and fast beats of my heart. I swallowed almost nothing, my mouth dryer than after a run. 

“What…?” I asked stupidly. 

“Lo siento mucho”, her broken voice sobbed through the phone. 

“Please…don’t. Misa, please!“ I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. Nobody had ever saved their relationship by asking their partner not to break up during a phone call. But here I was, begging Misa with all being, begging her to keep me into the light because the sun was about to sink for good.

“Por favor Nicky… don’t make it harder!“ she cried. “I can’t…”

“…go on like this, I know,” I finished. Tears streamed from my eyes but my body was numb with shock. She had hit the point. I knew how she felt because deep inside I knew I was feeling the same way.

“You… should get the chance to fulfill your work aspirations…”, she continued, “…and I need to focus back on mine”

Her quiet sobs achieved to break my heart into pieces. I really couldn’t breathe anymore, through air indeed went in and out of my lungs.

She’s right. I love her so much. But I’m not doing her any good, I’m even ruining her performances… 

I shouldn’t fight for this. 

“Okay…” I focused on the tiles of my kitchen, emptying my mind to gather the remains of my strength. “I guess I’m going to hang up now… too hard.” I managed to articulate, my body fighting against the sobs pushing to come out. 

“I’m so sorry… Please, take care of you Azu… Nicky”

My chest shook uncontrollably for containing the sobs. I couldn’t say anything, still I couldn’t hang up after all. It would mean it would be over. Our relationship would end with the call. 

But then it hit me. 

It was over. We had just broken up. 

I spoiled a minute trying to regain my ability to speak, my blurred sight composing the soft features of her face.

“I’ll hang up, hum… bye” Misa’s voice had regained some composure.

“Take care, just know you’re the best…” I finally stuttered in the middle of sobs. 

“Thanks… You too”

And she was gone. 

Tears and sobs escaped madly. 

I dropped my phone onto the sofa, fighting to retake my breath when crying took all over my body with an unimaginable strength. 

Every inch of my being ached, my mind drowning in unbearable pain. 

It was over. We were no more.

I was falling lower and lower and this fall was far more dangerous than my accident. 

You don’t suffer when you fall, the pain coming only when you hit the bottom. 

But precisely, falling was excruciating, the floor never in sight. 

Only darkness.

Swallowing me completely. 

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

MASTERLIST

Writing rules here

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Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x reader (Nicky, first person)

Season 1

Summary : After moving to Madrid as Real Madrid's new photographer, Nicky can’t seem to take her eyes off the pretty face Misa Rodríguez. But how will she handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her contract strictly forbids dating players?

WC: I don't know, way too much TW: at some point angst, smut +18, but still a lot of fluff PS: French writer / I wrote this story during the 23/24 season, that explained some of the players are not in the team anymore. Anyway, it's a parallel univers so I do what I want.

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and Peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique Chapter 7 ➺ In the Haze Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions Chapter 9 ➺ The same struggle Chapter 10 ➺ A place for words Chapter 11 ➺ Not a cloud in sight

Season 2

Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.

WC: don't know yet TW: angst, smut +18, but still a lot of fluff PS: French writer / this season is based on the real previous season 24/25, with some changes and accommodations

Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter Chapter 13 ➺ Dangerous steps Chapter 14 ➺ The fall Chapter 15 ➺ Broken nights

——————————————————

Blow my whistle

Misa Rodríguez x Leila Ouahabi x Reader

+18 pure smut with, I hope, a little bit of fun. [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

——————————————————

MISA FIC REC

A Poorly Planned Escape by @skalfy A Reputation for Good Taste by @skalfy

You Can't Talk No Sh*t Without Penalties (Misa Rodriguez x Marta Cardona) by @copper-16

Just Let Go 1 2 3 4 5 by @girlgenius1111 To the brink by @girlgenius1111 No one speaks to you like that by @girlgenius1111

ibiza holiday, part2 (leila ouahabi & misa rodríguez) by @a-pute11as

swipe, like, love, misa x reader by @starrynights-sunnyskies a clash to keep her by @starrynights-sunnyskies mine to save by @starrynights-sunnyskies mine to protect by @starrynights-sunnyskies

One night in Ibiza (Misa Rodríguez x Hermoso!Reader) by @pitchsidestories

Tough & Hard by @helen-with-an-a Compliments by @helen-with-an-a

Sleepy Cuddles by @suckerforblondeathletes

Change of heart by @inuyashaluver

Jump scare by @wileys-russo

Starting over In Madrid - Season 2

Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter

Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.

WC: 5K words TW: none but slight angst PS: this season is based on the real previous season 24/25, with some changes and accommodations

Starting over In Madrid - Season 1

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clásico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and Peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique Chapter 7 ➺ In the Haze Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions Chapter 9 ➺ The same struggle Chapter 10 ➺ A place for words Chapter 11 ➺ Not a cloud in sight

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ 

The roads were clear. People weren’t back from holidays yet, but you could definitely feel summer was drawing to its end. It was nine in the morning and a, not to say fresher but less warm, wind swept through the large avenues of the capital neighborhoods. I was driving fast and wishing, for once, I were stuck in the traffic jam on my way to work. My heart had started to drum in my chest the moment I had woken up and it had not slowed since then, especially now that the Ciudad Real Madrid was coming into sight.

Everything felt brand new, yet similar. I entered the complex, drove to the parking lot, and parked the car at a very precise spot: the one where Misa had kissed me for the first time. The thought of her soothed me as I turned the engine off. I needed to relax badly, still feeling my heart pulsing in my throat.

Everything is gonna be alright, Nicky! You can do it!

I closed my eyes and recalled the reassuring words of my girlfriend this morning…

“Aquí, Cari, un buen café para ti!” Real Madrid’s goalkeeper handed me a large cup with a little foamy heart floating on the surface, swaying gently with the hot liquid.

“It comes with a kiss…” she continued, bending toward my face.

Her lips connected with mine, soft and sweet. Like her.

“You’re going to be fantastic, mi Cari,” she added, kneeling beside me and putting another peck on my lips.

I kissed her forehead, my eyes fluttering shut as I inhaled the reassuring smell of her hairline.

“Thanks, love… I’m impatient to get started. This is the worst, the lapse of time just before, waiting, stressing out, wondering how I’m going to pull through my first day…”

Misa took my hands, smiling with some kind of exasperation, and she planted a kiss on my lips between every word.

“You… are… the most… qualified… woman… en España… to be the… directora… de fotografía… del Real Madrid femenino… You’re talented, you’re demanding, you’re hard-working. You deserve it, Azucari.”

Her words drew my mouth into a shy smile.

“Annnnd you have a special power within you…,” she went on and turned the cup of coffee so the milk heart faced me perfectly.

I chuckled, touched by her attention.

“I love you too, Mis’. Thanks for the motivational speech.”

“Hey, I’m capitana, remember?” She laughed and got up.

I took a sip of coffee. “You are a true captain. Hummm, your coffees are always so good!”

Flattered, Misa improvised a little celebration dance. Her satisfied expression made me laugh frankly, until her watch alarm rang out and put an end to both our amusement.

“Mierda, I’m going to be late for training!”

“Fuck, let’s go!” I said, standing up at once.

Misa rushed out of the room as I darted to the kitchen to put my coffee in a paper cup. A pang of sadness poked my stomach as I watched the little heart dissolve into the new container.

To give me strength, I glanced at my wrist, looking at the thin colorful laced bracelet. “Give me your hand and close your eyes, Cari!” the brunette had said on our reunion night after the holidays, and she had worked at attaching something to my wrist. “Open your eyes! ¿Te gusta? It’s from Las Palmas, I wanted to give you something from my Island!” Now, the bracelet was becoming more of an amulet, reminding me of the loving presence of Misa in my life in times of need.

Misa came back a few seconds later with her headphones over her neck and a sports bag draped over her shoulder.

I gathered my own stuff quickly. We exited the goalie’s apartment and took the staircase. My light claustrophobia always encouraged me not to take the elevator when I could.

Arriving at the ground floor, we looked at each other hesitantly.

“I better go,” I said awkwardly as footsteps echoed from above in the staircase.

“I guess you should,” the goalie sighed. “See you tonight, Cari. Remember, you’re the best!” She boosted me before going down to the parking lot.

I exited the building and reached my car, parked a little farther outside the building. It was strange to walk away without kissing her. A lot of things we always did felt strange today… Having to drive separately to work when we had spent the night together. Double-checking our ways in and out of the building Misa shared with other club members. Staying silent when she was on the phone with a teammate. Taking off her sweater. Changing my phone wallpaper screen. Changing her contact name to “Sami” just to be extra careful…

Focus, Nicky! Now is not the time to think about Misa and her little sad pout when we said goodbye…

Parked at the Ciudad, I quit daydreaming of my endearing goalkeeper and got out of the car. I unfolded my light grey pants, pulled at my shirt to straighten it, and ran a hand through my hair.

Okay, I’m ready. I’m ready. What would Misa say? Estás lista, mi Azucari! I repeated her precious words a few times and moved myself forward to the building entrance.

“Hola, Nicky! Good holidays? Come on, your new office’s on the fifth floor,” Ana greeted me and, without waiting for an answer, led me toward the elevator.

Unwilling to make a scene, I took a deep breath and entered the cabin despite my racing heart.

“Your assistants are already there. Their office’s next to yours.”

“How many are they?” I dared to ask.

“Two. Eneko and… I forgot her name. You’ll meet them in a few minutes anyway.”

To my relief, we exited the elevator already.

We walked down the corridor and stopped at a door on the right, bearing my full name followed by the mention “Directora de Fotografía, Real Madrid Femenino.” I couldn’t help but puff my chest with pride.

The office was small, although a little bit longer than the previous one, with the walls lined with wooden shelves. A long desk in front of the window occupied half the room and bore two large screens. My work stuff was waiting for me in four cardboard boxes aligned neatly on the floor. I glimpsed through the window and was delighted to discover a nice view of the women’s team practice pitch. A bit farther behind was the Estadio Alfredo Di Stéfano…

“This is great,” I said, facing Ana.

“I’m glad you like it. And this is going to be more convenient for both of us, my office is at the end of the corridor.”

Very convenient indeed! No more messing around with Misa in my office, I guess…

“Come on, Nicky, you’ll settle later. Let’s introduce you to your team.”

I followed Ana to the next room. The two people in it rose from their seats at once and stepped forward.

“Buenos días… eh… Good morning… Mrs.,” stammered a short, bearded guy with thick glasses. “I’m Eneko. I am a videomaker and a photographer.” His Spanish accent was very thick.

“Nice to meet you, Eneko, I’m Nicky,” I answered, trying to sound casual yet assured as we shook hands.

I turned to a very tanned, dark-haired girl.

“Inma. Nice to meet you, Nicky. I’m a graphic designer and community manager. I also do a little bit of photography. I was working for the male cantera.”

We shook hands too.

“Hello, Inma, so you’ve already done shoots with the players then?”

“Yes, lots of them!” Inma answered.

“Vale, I’ll leave now everybody knows each other,” Ana interrupted. “Nicky, I’ve sent you a file with the most urgent jobs to do. Don’t forget to check the female cantera’s first photoshoot of the season. It’s your responsibility as well now. And find a moment to show your assistants the studio for next week’s sponsor shooting. Also, I’d like two proposals for this year’s Champions League visuals. Anyway, everything’s written in the file. I’ll let you work on the schedule and come back to me at the end of the day. Good day to you three.”

I was the photography director for less than 15 minutes and my brain was already crashing with my never-ending new responsibilities…

***

On the next day, I led my little team to the gym for the first time. The footballers had never been photographed during a training session and I thought it would add some strength to the social network content.

Our arrival in the workout room did take them by surprise. Everybody stopped exercising and I had to clear my throat to speak up.

“Hola everybody, we’re going to film today’s practice. Don’t mind us, just focus on your training like you’re doing on the pitch.”

I couldn’t suppress a hint of nervousness in my voice. Although a few seconds later, the footballers were back to work and I gave instructions to Inma and Eneko.

“Stay in the back… behind that machine, yes,” I told the short cameraman. “Try to get the foreground blurry. And Inma, go all around the room, focus on moves and facial expressions.”

Both of them nodded in acknowledgment. As for me, I positioned myself at the door to get some wide shots.

The sound of the shutters melted with the footballers’ rasping breaths, panting with effort, the coach’s voice chanting instructions every now and then. Misa and I took care not to cross eyes, especially when three lenses could focus on her at any moment.

After a moment, I came to see my assistants to check how they were doing and to correct some presets. I tried to harmonize the style between takes and shots. It felt weird to have people doing the work I had done for nearly one year. I found it harder to direct them instead of doing it myself. After all, I was now in charge of their results as well.

One hour later, the pressure had lifted a bit, although it was not yet replaced by confidence. I couldn’t wait to find back the privacy of my office and felt relieved when everybody started to leave the gym.

Hayley nudged me roughly as she walked past me. “Good job, Director!” she praised me happily, adding in a whisper, “I think Sami’s really out of breath right now, and not only because of training… have a good day, Sweetie!”

She left me smiling stupidly, stopping halfway while folding the tripod.

“Hey Nicky! It’s great to see you so happy! Being director suits you! Want help to pack your photo things?” Lea’s voice rang close by as I kept staring absentmindedly at the remaining people in the gym.

“Oh no no no, thanks Léa but Inma and Eneko are going to help me!” I responded, praying I wasn’t blushing.

“Ok, bye!” The new goalie waved to me.

I resumed disassembling the equipment when my own goalie approached, sexy as hell, with her moist, reddened face. Her hard expression softened when our eyes met. She winked at me discreetly and was out of the gym. My gaze followed her a moment.

My phone vibrated. Message from Sami Sami: So you really like directing people 😮‍💨

There was no way I wasn’t turning crimson this time.

*** 

A few days passed and I started to get my bearings with my team, voicing my intentions more clearly, and dividing the work between us better. I wasn’t on the field anymore, that task resting now on Inma and Eneko , but scheduling events and shootings from my office, or attending meetings with the creative or commercial teams. I didn’t like that change. I missed being outside, sharing practice sessions with the players. Fall was settling in the Spanish capital, inviting us to enjoy the fresher air on the pitch, while I was doing one photo shoot after another, locked in the studio.

On the other hand, there were no assisting brands’ photographs or following visual guidelines anymore. I was free to experiment, and was surprised the club would trust me with the most avant-garde proposals. That reward also came with a lot of pressure, setting expectations toward me very high. Thus, I spent many free hours in libraries and bookshops, trying to get what the best photography and visual tendencies were. I wanted to create something different for Real Madrid and was sure there were things to do artistically with football photography. Besides, now a true Madridista, I felt it was right for Real Madrid to set the pace.

Consequently, on Sven’s advice, I dragged Misa to every photography exhibition in the capital, the young woman balking when she’d imagined we’d spend the evening watching Netflix on the sofa. At the gallery, I was amused to see her face giving away her thoughts so clearly. She’d frown when she didn’t like a shot or nod discreetly when she found one interesting. Art exhibitions were not a very common hobby among footballers and it was great to be able to safely hang with her again. After our time of freedom in Formentera, the first days back had been really tough. We had grown used to being a regular couple and coming back to Madrid had been a reality check. Our relationship was still forbidden and all the things we had to hide again felt like dozens of little slaps in the face, constantly reminding us of our perilous conditions.

***

On a brighter note, Misa’s season started pretty strong. September was drawing to an end and she had kept four clean sheets. I was seeing her less, our schedules no longer aligning, nor our working grounds. It made me sad, until Inma fell sick and I had to replace her during an early practice session.

When she arrived on the pitch, Misa seemed both relaxed and focused. My heart swelled at the sight of the young, breathtakingly beautiful goalie. Everything had begun here with her, on the pitch between her goalposts, my lens waiting for an impressive dive or an agile jump. But today was different. Today Misa wasn’t just a goalkeeper. It was the first time I would photograph her here, knowing that she was my girlfriend.

I had been lost in my cheesy thoughts for a few minutes when the Spaniard was joined by another tall figure. Léa reached Misa and wasted no time in draping an arm around her shoulder to murmur something in her ear. My hair instantly bristled. Misa’s lips stretched in an amused smile before she left Léa’s hug to jog to the goalposts.

“What the fuck?!“ I murmured under my breath, my gaze fixed on the running silhouette of the young goalie.

Misa’s gaze was fixed on the goal until it travelled to the crouched girl at the pitch’s corner. We locked eyes and her lips parted silently, the surprise stretching her soft features as she recognized me instead of Inma. Obviously she couldn’t help it, because she offered me her brightest smile a second later. Love dissolved my possessiveness right away. Misa had always been too much for me. Too pretty, too cute, too strong, too herself. I was far too much in love with her to hold a grudge, although this was before the practice began properly…

Their warm-up done, Léa made the Spaniard laugh again. I had no problem with Misa laughing with her, no, it wasn’t that. It was the unwavering attention of the French woman. Something glowed in her eyes when she looked at Misa, her gaze leaving her only when it was her turn to practice. It was her whole body, engaged to praise Misa, the muted clapping of her gloves resounding after each and every one of her moves, or touching Misa whenever she had the chance, pressing her shoulders or sweeping grass strands off her shorts. Léa didn’t forget to put on a show during the entire practice session, making jokes and silly faces between exercises.

In the end, an hour and a half had passed and my bottom lip was red and swollen from biting it relentlessly, the visible scar of battling against my anger. Heading back to the locker room, even Misa’s discreet winking couldn’t appease me. Léa was right on her heels and I realized with disgust that they were going to shower together. Picturing Léa’s hungry gaze on the naked body of the brunette finished me off.

I didn’t trust Léa in the least, but I was even more furious with Misa for being so relaxed and amused by the girl flirting with her right under my nose. Thus, I was now totally convinced I was right about Léa having a crush on her, stirring jealousy and frustration in a dangerous mix.

The painfulness of the day didn’t stop there. I had two meetings, both of them went terribly, and I barely hoped for the working hours to end with the huge amount of work that was put on me. Although, Misa and I were due to start our drawing classes this very evening, and I still resented her deeply.

When I waited for her, I was biting my nails, leaning against the wall of an old building, my mood was even worse than this morning’s. It was true that nothing today had helped me to calm down, and the only thing that kept ringing in my mind was Léa’s silly laugh.

“Hola, guapa!“

I startled, turning toward the playful voice of my girlfriend.

Misa was walking to me, wearing white jeans and a black trendy hoodie, but most of all, a truly charming smile.

Remember, you are mad at her, Nicky! I urged myself, feeling my bitterness ebbing away again.

“Buenas tardes, Mis’,” I replied a bit coldly.

But Misa didn’t notice and placed a tender kiss on my cheek, sending me sighing. Why was it so hard to stay mad at her?!

“Are you nervous?” I asked, appeased nonetheless by her softness.

“I am!” she admitted, “but I’m excited too!”

Her eager look was everything. How could I bring myself to spoil our moment together tonight?

“Let’s go inside,“ I finally said.

My mood slightly brightened as I pushed the building’s front door. It gave way to an indoor court. We crossed it and entered another smaller building. Inside, it looked like a dance studio with an entire mirror wall, but several small tables were placed in half a circle on the wooden floor.

“Hola, buenas!” A middle-aged woman greeted us.

Misa stepped forward. “Hola, estamos aquí por el curso de dibujo.”

“Bienvenidas, chicas! Soy Pilar, la profesora.” The woman bent toward a sheet of paper. “Vuestros nombres, chicas, por favor?”

“Estamos inscritas a nombre de Maria Isabel Rodriguez,” Misa replied. “Y es Nicky. No habla español, pero voy a traducir para ella.”

“Vale, perfecto, chicas, sentaros donde queráis.”

Pilar signaled the circle of tables behind her where a few people were already seated.

As we moved forward, I began to wonder how I was going to deal with the language barrier. I knew a little Spanish, yes, but I wasn’t sure anymore I’d be able to follow a whole course, and I didn’t want Misa to constantly translate everything for me.

“Azucari, I want to be at the end of the circle,“ Misa said, going to the last table. “You sit next to me, this way no one can look at my drawings.” She added in a whisper.

“No problem, Mis’.”

I took the seat as told. It was next to a dark-skinned girl with very short bleached hair. We greeted each other with a brief nod.

“Buenos días a todos.” Pilar spoke in front of the half-circle of tables. I noticed only now a single table at the circle center. “Gracias a vosotros por venir a este curso de dibujo. Vamos a empezar con un ejercicio muy simple. Vamos a dibujar…” Pilar stepped forward and took out an apple from her pocket. “… esta manzana! No tenéis lápices sobre las mesas sino bolígrafos. Alguien puede decirme por qué dibujar con boli está mejor que con lápiz?”

Fuck, I’m totally lost!

“She said we’re going to draw the apple with a pen. She asked why a pen and not a pencil,” Misa whispered to me, noticing my silent panic.

“Thanks!” I muttered, “I know the answer! It’s because we shouldn’t erase anything. I can’t speak Spanish, you say it!”

Misa smiled nervously. “No! I don’t want to draw attention!”

But at that precise moment, Pilar turned her inquiring gaze to us.

“Eh… es porque no podemos borrar el dibujo,“ Misa said nervously.

“Muy bien!” The professor acknowledged, “and por qué lo es mejor?”

“Bueno… he…” Misa searched her words.

“Para… ver sus errores! (To see your mistakes)” I said, understanding the second question and knowing Misa didn’t know the answer.

“Bien bien!” Pilar praised us. “Vamos. Mirad bien la manzana y dibujadla.”

Everybody took their pen. Some started drawing timidly, some stared a moment at the apple. Misa had already finished. Her large hand half hid a minuscule circle with a short odd stroke, lost in the middle of her sheet. 

“Yours looks so much better…” Misa said with a mix of pride and envy.

My drawing wasn’t even close to good, but I couldn’t deny it was a little more detailed than hers.

“Er… it’s just… I think you should draw bigger,” I said to encourage her.

Looking defeated, Misa opened her mouth, but the teacher spoke again.

“Vale, ahora vais a dibujar unas más manzanas.” Pilar pulled more apples from a bag until the table was covered under numerous apples of all colors and shapes. “Todas las manzanas son diferentes. No quiero ver la misma manzana. Mirad, mirad bien. Dibujar es mirar!”

Again, I struggled to fully understand what Pilar said, but I caught the words “apples,” “different,” and “look,” and assumed we had to focus on the differences between each apple.

I sighed, stretching my neck.

“Are you alright?” the goalie asked.

“I’m tired. Long day…”

“What happened?”

This time, I couldn’t hide my irritation. I shrugged and pouted ostentatiously, and the goalie stopped drawing, fully turning her attention toward me.

“Qué pasa, Nicky?”

“It’s been a pain, the whole day. I particularly didn’t like what I saw this morning…” I finally spat it out, avoiding her gaze.

“This morning? What are you talking about?”

She didn’t seem to get it, and it got me really mad again.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” I asked, looking at her accusingly.

Misa was shocked for real.

“Me? What did I do?!”

“Léa! She’s been flirting with you during the entire training session!” I whispered with fury.

“Aaaaah!” To my surprise, the goalie looked relieved. It only fed my anger. “Nicky,” she said softly, looking straight into my eyes, “Léa’s not getting my interest. I’m with you. I love you. You don’t have to worry about her.”

My heart leaped. What could I say to that? I felt dumb all of a sudden. Dumb and sad, because something like that wouldn’t matter if I could truly be with her. I thought about the amount of work waiting for me at the Real tomorrow. Wouldn’t I be better working somewhere else? Wouldn’t she be worth it? But where would I find another job? Nowadays, employment was really poor in photography…

Feeling angst knotting my guts, I shook the thought away, focusing on her, on her love for me, on my little life in Madrid…

“I know. I love you too, baby. Very much,” I said before going back to my drawing.

For a moment, we could only hear the scratching noise of pens on paper.

Discreetly, Misa’s hand brushed my thigh under the table.

“Against all odds, I’m not a womanizer, Azucari,” she whispered to me smugly.

“Bullshit, every girl wants you,” I replied, nudging her playfully with my elbow.

“But I don’t want every girl.”

I was out of answers, and that was for the best because Pilar was getting near us.

“Bueno, chicas,” she stopped in front of us, “Enséñadme vuestros dibujos.”

I mimicked the young goalie and timidly turned my sheet toward the professor. She studied for a moment our drawings and spoke quietly while pointing at various parts of the sketch. Again, I had no other choice than to wait for Misa to explain everything afterwards.

“She said yours is better because you really looked at the shapes of the apples. But your stroke is too shy and trembling,” Misa told me once Pilar went to see the other students.

“Thanks, I’ve been told that during my entire studies at art school… What about yours?” I asked, curious about what the teacher thought about the small odd circles on her sheet.

Misa pouted. “She said I didn’t look at all. I have to draw the apples again, bigger, and stop doing random circles…”

“Pilar really said it like that?” I checked, surprised a teacher would be so blunt.

“No, I summed it up…” Misa replied, and I chuckled. The brunette was really vexed and changed the subject. “So, the rest of your day went bad?” she inquired.

“Two awful meetings. The commercials didn’t like any of my proposals, and the Champions League visuals are not validated either… It feels like they want to go back to something more classic now…” I sighed. “Maybe I wasn’t the right choice for the photo…”

“Shhh! Stop underestimating yourself, Nicky! It will not get you anywhere! You’re good at what you do. You’re doing ten times better than estas mierdas we saw at the gallery the other day!”

I shrugged but smiled, and Misa continued.

“Ok, here’s another example. You have particularly gorgeous models, I know, but nobody makes me look like a goddess like you do. I have the best profile picture of all fútbol femenino!”

A soft laugh escaped my mouth. When it came to dealing with pressure or taking in a bad project review, Misa always found a way to cheer me up. Besides, she had just given me the opportunity to ask her a favor.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something. I’d like to take pictures of you for my personal practice. I mean, more intimate ones, apart from the pitch and gym.”

Misa’s pen froze against her sheet, and she glanced at me with a reprobative look.

“Oh no, no, no! I’m not doing nudes! Madre mía, Nicky, you’re obsessed with my body!”

It was really hard not to burst out laughing in the middle of the class.

“Pff, shut up! I’m not talking about nudes, I mean photographing you in our daily life. Nothing posed. Just relying on situations… I just wanted to know if you’d be okay with that?”

“Like what? Me cutting vegetables? Me looking at TV? Me sleeping? Sounds like a bad vlog to me…”

Misa’s pout of disbelief made me melt. I’d always found it very endearing that she really didn’t know a thing about photography.

I patiently explained, “Of course it sucks if you’re saying it like that. It’s more about capturing an atmosphere, an attitude, a mood. Many photographers do that, especially American ones… I love doing sport photography, but what I’m really fond of in photography is capturing real life. The daily life. The rushed energy you feel in the streets of a capital or the quietness of a morning chilling at home…”

I stopped. The young brunette was staring at me, unblinking, a small smile stretching the corner of her mouth.

“What?”

“I love when you talk about photography. Your eyes light up.” she said softly.

“Stop it!” I whispered, blushing.

“It’s true, guapa. I’m done for it! What do you want me to do?”

I took a moment to look at my girlfriend. From her thick brows to her full lips, something was really singular, even a bit raw in Misa’s face, making the beauty of it. In the meantime, her attitude was touching, unsure, and searching approval, behind her charisma.

“Nothing, just be yourself,” I answered.

“Vale, when do we start?”

“Tomorrow? We could go out for the night, what do you think?”

“Por cierto! I’ll pay for dinner!” Misa’s eyes shone like they always did when we were planning to meet outside. “I’m glad we spend time together, the international break is getting near. La lista sale mañana. The convocation’s list is out tomorrow.”

“You’re right, I have to remember to tell Inma to do a quick visual after the announcement tomorrow,” I said, putting my phone out to add the point on my to-do list.

Still, I could feel Misa’s stare burning on my face.

“Perdón, Señora la directora, usted puede mirar mi dibujo por favor?” the goalie said, over-articulating the words.

“You want me to look at your drawing?” I inquired.

“Porfa, ayúdame, Nicky! Help me!” Misa pleaded.

Amused, I glanced at her work. Misa’s new drawing looked exactly like the previous one: three small rounds stood out in the middle of the sheet, their shapes odd with the same short stroke popping out, surely intended to represent the apples’ tails.

Misa’s drawing beginnings were starting like mine with sports: hard, painful, and unrewarding.

***

Under my desk, I uncrossed and stretched my legs, letting out a big yawn. What a good morning of work! I had finished and sent the files of two consecutive projects, had given instructions to my assistants for the following days, and I had just planned the next photo shoots for the month to come.

Right now, nothing remained on my to-do list, leaving me an intense feeling of satisfaction. Surely, I would be able to take the afternoon off, practicing photography for myself for a moment before meeting the goalie in the evening.

Absentmindedly, I clicked on the SeFútbolFem announcement video, mostly to have an audio background. The video wasn’t online yet, and my mind drifted back to my pretty brunette.

I imagined myself shooting her walking casually under the streetlamp.

The announcement video finally started, with the usual epic jingle.

I couldn’t wait for the night. Misa had chosen a good Canarian restaurant in the north of Madrid. She had talked to me about her island food a lot, and had even cooked some typical potatoes once, but we hadn’t gone to a specialty restaurant yet.

“Guardametas!”

They had local cheeses that, according to the goalie, were amazing!

“Cata Coll”

And a uniquely flavored ice cream.

“Adriana Nanclares”

“Esther Sullastres”

My taste buds were already dancing in anticipation, and I couldn’t yet guess why bitterness was slowly filling my whole mouth.

Starting over In Madrid - Season 2

Chapter 13 ➺ Dangerous steps

Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.

WC: 5K words TW: angst, blood

Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“I told you I’m okay, Cari! Stop making a fuss about it.”

“But Mis’…”

“Nicky!” The brunette sent me a dark stare, and I went quiet.

“Okay, Baby…” I said softly.

Even if she kept reassuring me, I was worried sick for the goalie, and I felt more than ever I was right to do so. Misa’s body was betraying her already. Her nose twitched and her lips were slightly pursed. An unusual agitation animated her body, making her scroll mechanically on her phone as we waited for our meal at the restaurant.

I had tried to change our plans so we could talk in the safety of her home, but after arguing during the entire afternoon, I had given up and let the goalie take me out to dinner. We were now comfortably seated at the restaurant, a glass of wine on the table and nothing much to say since she refused to answer my questions about her current mental state, assuring me she had seen it coming and was okay. Thus, all I could see was that Misa was shutting herself off once again.

“La ropa vieja, el queso con miel y el chorizo de Terror. Buen provecho, chicas!” the waiter announced, putting the plates on the table. The food looked very good and different from the peninsular one.

Misa had dropped her phone and looked at the dishes fondly.

“Come on, Nicky, prueba la ropa vieja, es el plato de mi infancia!” Misa pointed at one plate eagerly.

I accepted, taking a mouthful of the curious course. It was truly delicious: soft meat melted with the peas and the rich sauce. You could taste that it was meant to be a slowly cooked, simple family meal in the first place.

“This is so good! Have you ever prepared one yourself?” I asked the Canarian young woman.

“Heee… no, mi madre is too happy to do it for me when I’m home!” She laughed. Eating her favorite dish seemed to truly appease her. “Estoy muy feliz de verdad. I’m so happy I’ll be able to spend time with my family now,” she added, taking more food.

“That’s true,” I agreed, side-eyeing her.

Acting like being kicked out of the national selection didn’t hurt was nothing but normal. I was still convinced she felt really down inside.

We kept on eating in silence for a moment, each of us buried in our own thoughts.

“Oh, a remix of our holiday song, Formentera!” Misa said suddenly.

I listened and recognized the song we kept playing at the villa this summer. It was such a good feeling to remember those precious moments. We needed moments like those again, spontaneous and intimate.

Under the table, I brushed my feet against the goalie’s. We locked eyes, a shy smile stretching our lips.

“I’d like to take you to the cinema tomorrow night,” I said, driven by the flirty mood.

Misa looked at me apologetically.

“Oh, cariño, I’d love to, but there’s a small party at Linda’s and I told her I’d come. I would have invited you if…”

“It’s okay, Mis’, I got it.” I cut in, my mood darkening.

“I’m sorry.” She put her hand on mine, biting her lips. “Are you mad?”

I sighed. “I’m not mad… I’m just disappointed.”

“Lo siento, I’d really love for you to come with me,” she repeated.

“I know… Can we go to my place tonight?”

We were supposed to go to Misa’s, but I really needed to cut any connection with Real Madrid, at least for a few hours.

Misa bit her lip. “Eh… okay, I’ll order a cab to go to work tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes. Everything was so complicated for nothing.

“I can drive both of us to work. For once. I mean, it’s okay, it doesn’t necessarily mean you slept at my place!”

Taking a bit of cheese, the goalie replied without looking at me, “Huuum, if you say so, Nicky…”

“You don’t think it’s wise, do you?” I inquired, irritated.

“It doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship, but all the girls in a relationship go to work in the same car…”

“¿Queréis postre?” the waiter asked us, coming out of nowhere.

“Dessert? Oh no, gracias,” I replied at once.

I had lost my appetite, an insidious feeling of loneliness was taking over me.

“Eh… no, puedes traernos la cuenta, por favor,” Misa said to the waiter, who nodded and walked away. “I think we should go home, I just asked for the bill,” she said anxiously.

“Yes, home… good.”

We arrived at my apartment an hour later that night, and against all odds, I was the one crying, breaking down in my girlfriend’s arms.

***

Saying I wasn’t appealed to by this trip would have been an understatement. I had dreaded this moment, trying by any means to send Inma or Eneko in my place. But no, Ana had wanted it to be me going to the long-planned goalkeeper meeting in Málaga with our two goalies.

As expected, traveling was a pain. We took the train and sat in a square of four seats, with me facing Misa and Léa chatting all the way. After a while, the Spaniard did seem a bit upset and put her headphones on to end Léa’s endless talking. As for me, since I had to endure a meeting, a cocktail, and a night in a fancy Andalusian hotel, I was determined to find out for real what Léa was up to with my girlfriend.

We arrived at the hotel’s reception in the early evening to retrieve our room cards. Our three rooms were next to each other, and I was quick to snatch the one in the middle. After all, wouldn’t tonight be particularly convenient for the French goalie to attempt something with Misa? Consequently, I was going to put as much distance between them as I could.

We didn’t have time to relax before attending the speech, taking place in the hotel meeting room. We got bored in only a few minutes. Misa hadn’t lied when she’d said those events were a nightmare. Even Léa, who had tried to entertain us with her funny comments about the monotonous sentences of the speaker, was now dozing in her chair. To conclude the presentation, all the goalkeepers went on stage to say a few words about their training. The event being first and foremost for the media, I joined the crowd of journalists and photographers to take some shots of our charismatic goalies, after which the speaker invited us to a cocktail in the hotel’s lounge at last.

When we arrived in the vast modern hall, tables were loaded with fancy food and elaborate drinks. I realized I was starving, and to my relief, my appetite made me forget Léa for a moment, thrilled to taste every bite and canapé.

“Eres incorregible!” Misa whispered as I stuffed the tenth appetizer in my mouth.

“It’s so good! You should try this one!” I exclaimed, showing her a small toast with foie gras.

“I don’t eat foie, and I have a match in two days…” she replied, her gaze dark.

“Hey! I didn’t force you to become a professional athlete!” I laughed before patting her shoulder.

The goalie shoved me away suddenly. “Be careful! Léa keeps sticking to me like a mosquito!”

“Relax, Misa, I’m not doing anything suspicious…” I replied, confused by her overreaction.

She bit her lip and exhaled deeply. “Eh… perdón…”

Before I could say something, she disappeared back into the crowd of guests.

What the fuck was that? I told myself, going after her and scanning the hall. Misa was nowhere to be found. I sighed heavily too. An open door in front of me revealed a calm and cozy terrace, inviting me to get a bit of fresh air.

I went out, the weather was definitely colder now, and I retrieved a large folded scarf from my bag to wrap myself in it. I sat in an armchair in a quiet spot on the terrace and sighed again, my gut knotting itself because of the numerous questions clouding my mind. Misa was back to acting weird, not speaking up when obviously something wasn’t right with her, nor right between us… She was avoiding serious discussions, remaining silent or evasive when I questioned her. My gut knotted itself more tightly. I feared she’d become distant. If only she would talk to me.

I was surprised to feel a strong need to smoke for the first time since I had quit, years ago. I had to be really stressed out. But before I had time to wonder where I could find a cigarette, a tall figure with voluminous curly hair walked toward me.

Léa dropped herself into the chair facing me, putting her cocktail on the small round table between us.

Just my luck!

“Olalala, Nicky, I’m fed up, this meeting’s hell! It’s full of old white guys, and all the cute goalies I’ve talked to have girlfriends,” she sighed.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, amused against my will by her blunt way of speaking. I refocused, feeling this conversation could go dangerously private. I swallowed a sip of champagne, letting the bubbles dance on the roof of my mouth. I realized this was just my chance to take advantage of the situation.

I inquired innocently, “Oh no, too bad for you!… Meaning you’re actively looking for a girlfriend?”

“I’m thirty and I’m tired of flirts. Yes, I want to find somebody. Plus, Spanish women, oh mon dieu! They’re like… really hot! I’ve dated a Spaniard when I was in France, a midfielder from my club, but I hadn’t realized Spaniards were really my type before coming here,” Léa chuckled. “What about you, Nicky?”

I drank again, a new confidence flowing through my body. I was on my way to get some answers.

“Me? I’m not looking for anything new right now. So you like to date footballers?” I said, pushing Léa to confess.

“Not necessarily footballers, but I’m more attracted to sportswomen.” She paused to drink, with a nervousness I had never seen before. She went on, fidgeting in her chair, “In fact… Nicky, do you know if… are you aware if Misa’s currently dating anyone?”

I bit my tongue to prevent a cry of victory from escaping my lips.

I fucking knew it!

I had an answer ready for her for a long time, but I took an evil pleasure in making her wait a little longer. I leaned back in my chair, drinking the last sip of champagne very slowly and enjoying the silence stretching between us while Léa peered at me expectantly.

“Oh, Misa… don’t waste your time, she’s seeing someone.” I finally told her casually.

I wasn’t touched in the slightest when the French goalie’s brows rose up.

“Putain! She does? Since when? I should have done something sooner… You know if it’s serious?” she said, shrinking into herself, her disappointment evident.

I felt my hairs bristle and tried to remain calm, but my voice sounded cocky in spite of my efforts.

“It’s been months, and it’s pretty serious, yep!”

The French woman blinked and sighed, “Fuck, she’s fun… pretty and talented… Damn! I guess I’ve got a crush… but thanks for telling me. I hope her girlfriend knows how lucky she is…”

Hearing those words, I couldn’t hide the sudden surge of emotions.

“I… I’m sure she is…” I stuttered, trying to recompose myself.

Yes, I was so lucky. Lucky to be the one that always managed to soothe Misa. Lucky to have her, a thoughtful and truly kind lover, in my life. We were lucky and strong to have built something together in spite of everything else…

My anger had disappeared, replaced by compassion for the French goalie.

“Forget about Misa! You’re fun, pretty and talented too, I’m sure you’ll find someone in no time!” I replied, a hint of possessiveness lingering.

“Thanks, Nicky.”

Léa’s head was bowed, she was looking really down after our conversation. Unfortunately, I was the last person able to comfort her right now.

I stood up. “My glass is empty, come on, Léa, let’s go back inside.”

It wasn’t really late when the three of us went to bed, but I had let an hour pass before I dared to go in Misa’s room.

The brunette pulled me inside swiftly, wearing only a large T-shirt. She closed the door with caution and came back to me, taking me in her arms to kiss me without delay. I chuckled, touched by her eagerness.

How lucky I was, indeed.

“What?” the goalkeeper asked when I laughed again softly.

“I was right,” I told her with a smug face.

Misa put another kiss on my lips, her arms enfolding my shoulders.

“Right about what?”

“Léa has a crush on you, she told me!” I dropped, triumphant.

“What? Not this again!“ The goalie parted from me, her smile had disappeared. She clearly was not pleased. “Why did she tell you in the first place?”

I was getting impatient with Misa’s mood swings.

“She asked me if you were single, so I told her you’re not, obviously…” I said, rolling my eyes.

“You told Léa I have a girlfriend?!” Misa’s face hardened, making me mad.

“Yeah! Which is true, remember? Why does that even look like a problem?!“

But the goalkeeper was getting furious, taking one more step away from me.

“First, I don’t see why you would speak up for me! I hate when people do that!”

“Oh! I’m people now, great! Maybe I’m starting to get why you didn’t want Léa to know about me!” I spat, taking the step back toward her.

Misa’s thick brows furrowed hard, her accent got heavier with anger.

“You’re ridiculous! And you’ve been fooled! Léa’s already asked me if I had someone and I said I didn’t! Now, she knows I lied to her or at least that one of us lied! She used you, Nicky, to get private information about me when I wouldn’t give her!“

I felt something icy run along my spine, knowing Misa was right. I had been so dumb. Still, the brunette’s words fed my anger.

“And can I know why you would lie? Why not say you have someone even if you can’t say it’s me?” I sensed my voice shake, hurt surging on top of my anger.

Misa glared at me.

“You really don’t know anything about how things go in a sports team. Gossips spread fast. Joder! You’ve just put me in the spotlight and yourself in danger! Everyone will want to know who’s my girlfriend by tomorrow! You’ve just put me in hell for weeks!”

I gulped my drying saliva, my heart drumming in my chest, frozen with the realization of what I had done.

The footballer began to pace up and down in the room, her anger not easing.

“I told you not to worry about Léa, you didn’t trust me!”

I walked to her, my mouth parched, angst and hurt spreading in my body.

“It was the only thing I could say, the only thing I could do as your girlfriend… You can’t expect me to act like we don’t exist!”

“But we don’t exist for them, Nicky! That’s the point! We can’t exist officially!” The goalie silently put her fist on the wall. “I hate that! I hate being in a secret relationship! Secrets always bring trouble and pain!”

I sat onto the bed, guilt choking me at the sight of Misa’s suffering, hurt myself because she didn’t seem to understand my position.

“I’ve never meant to…” I began, but my voice broke and I buried my face in my palms as sobs took over my body.

We can’t go on like this. This is going to break us both.

I felt the mattress sag beside me and my body being pulled against her warm torso. I wrapped my arms around her at once, feeling the heavy load on my shoulders getting heavier, feeling so deeply in love with her. The tears escaping my eyes spilled my sadness around us. I held on to her tighter, until my running nose had me quit her arms to grab a tissue.

I blew the hell out of me, calming myself a bit. When I glanced at the goalkeeper, her eyes were wet and reddened, running tears had left traces along her face. My heart broke a little more.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I believed it was safe, for both of us. The truth is, I’m feeling so scared…” I said, peering down.

“I know, Azucari…” Misa said, and she sniffed.

A few seconds passed, with us not really knowing what to say or do.

“I’m going to quit,” my voice rang out in the stretching silence.

Misa faced me at once.

“Qué? No! Not now! You’re doing an amazing job as photo director. Real Madrid is full of opportunities for you!“

We looked at each other, her features were softer at last.

“But…” I began.

“I won’t let you quit for me right now. And about Léa, it will pass and I’ve been through worse.” Misa’s peremptory tone had me quiet. Although, her sad eyes were tender and a discreet smile stretched her lips as she looked at me.

I realized, for the second time of the evening, how lucky I was to have her as my girlfriend.

I heaved myself onto the bed and called Misa to join me. It was her turn to snuggle up to me, having me amazed at how her large body could make itself so small nested against mine. I bit back the tears again as I kissed her forehead, my nose grazing her loose baby hair and inhaling the vanilla scent of her shampoo that was so hers.

Misa pressed her face against my body, her breathing deep.

“Azucari, te quiero! I want you to be happy… but please don’t do that again,” she said, her fingers digging in the fabric of my T-shirt.

My embrace tightened around the young woman.

“I won’t, my love. We’ll find a way to make things work, I promise!”

***

I was arranging the cushions, focused, lighthearted too, when Misa knocked on the golden oak door.

We had rented a small apartment in Toledo, just for two nights before and after Misa’s single day off. A week had passed, and we had talked during it, figuring out what we could do to improve our relationship, or at least to relieve ourselves from a part of our anxiety. We couldn’t change the clause. But we could try to get a little more time for ourselves, away from the nonsense of the whole situation.

So, we had come here, in Toledo, a gorgeous city with plenty to discover, 30 minutes away from Madrid, in a nice flat in a fancy old building where I was already feeling at home.

I opened the door, beaming at her. She had come directly after work, accentuating the feel we could, somehow, live here together.

“Hola, Cari,” the goalie greeted me, pulling me in a kiss on the doorstep.

My heart was dancing.

This was it. What should have been from the start. Being with her. No fear. Just a girl kissing her girl, coming home…

I pulled the young brunette inside and made her a quick tour of the apartment she had only seen on the website’s pictures.

“Es muy bonito!” She cheered, coming back to the living room.

“I forgot how clean a home could be when it’s tidied up, but I’m sure even you would miss my mess, jajaja.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that, my love!” I replied at once, sitting on the sofa. “I recall you managed to lose my camera for a week in your bedroom because your stuff was everywhere…”

“You’ve made a point…” She conceded, chuckling.

“I love you!” I blurted out, wrapping my arms around her shoulders to kiss her.

I couldn’t stand when Misa was so herself, gorgeous, cute and silly.

“Love you too…” She managed to whisper in the middle of our passionate make-out.

We stayed in each other’s arms a moment, lost in our bubble. My head was resting against her chest and I could hear her heartbeat pounding, loud and steady.

“How was your week?” I dared to ask, connecting us back to reality, although my eyes remained closed.

“Eh… bien, pero… I have a good and a bad news to tell you. Don’t fuss, it’s under control. For now.” She added when I straightened up at once.

Misa shifted her position to face me, taking a deep breath.

“As I feared, the girls’ new game is to guess who my secret girlfriend is… they even named it ‘la misacertijo’ — the misa riddle. Yeah, very funny… So, that’s bad news. And the worse is everybody is sure she’s someone from Real Madrid. I know… it sucks,” she acknowledged as I winced. “But the good news is Caroline and Alba are pretty sure my girlfriend is… Alma, the coach’s assistant!”

We stared at each other in disbelief before bursting out of laughter.

“What the fuck?! Where did they get that from?” I asked, wiping off tears of laughter.

“I have no idea! I swear to you I don’t even talk to her! You know how training goes, goalkeepers have their own staff. Anyway, Caro and Alba spread the word and it convinced most of the girls! I can tell you I’m relieved, it should protect you a bit!”

“You’re right! As little as I like the idea, I definitely think you should not deny the rumor.”

“Of course not! The hardest part is not to laugh when Hayley and I cross eyes!”

We both chuckled again.

“I have a good news as well.” I smiled as Misa’s eyes lit up. “I’ve talked to Sven about showing my photographs and he really encouraged me to talk to my boss about it. So I took my courage and did it earlier today and… Ana is thrilled by the idea! She thinks we can organize an exhibition of my photos under Real Madrid’s name! She wants it to be around Christmas, she’ll find the place!”

The goalie’s wide smile was the best reward I could get.

“My talented novia! I want to be credited if you show photos of me!”

“Credits don’t work like that, Misa!” I chuckled, looking at her pretty face. “But I guess it’s time I focus on practicing more with you, my muse,” I said, playing with a strand of her hair.

The goalie released a cute laugh, and started to pull a face.

“Your muse! Should I pose like this? Or like that?” She said, accentuating her grimaces and sending me giggling madly.

“Stop it, Mis’, you’re not even close to ugly! Can we go get dinner soon? I feel the city’s streets will be a good decor tonight. Except if you’d rather go with the coach’s assistant!” I teased.

“We’re definitely about to get dinner… But first, I need to convince you I don’t want Alma the least…”

The goalie bent toward my face, slipping her hands under my shirt and my mouth fell on hers, no restraint needed this time. She pressed herself against me, forcing me to lie down on the couch, my brain getting dizzy with her smell, her taste, and everything else I guessed she had in mind.

***

Despite the rain, the weakening autumn sun was having its ways through the sheer clouds, piercing the gray sky in dazzling rays over the empty pitch of the Alfredo di Stéfano stadium. The air was warmer than it had been for weeks, which felt great and relaxing, a needed relief before the particularly hard month coming ahead. Today’s match against Madrid CFF would surely be tough too, but it was nothing compared to the next Champions League games and, most of all, to the first Clasico of the season. Now out of the national team, Misa had been training like a freak, well decided to be able to show her skills during those challenging matches.

Madrid CFF bus was parked at the entrance but the pitch remained unattended. I was the first one to set foot onto the grass. The rain had stopped with the sun making a breaking, warm appearance above my head. I circled the lawn, followed closely by Inma and Eneko, evaluating the brightness, pausing to test a few points of view. The press was entering the stadium too and I settled us in haste, granting us the best angles. I placed Eneko at the pitch entrance, Inma behind a goalpost, and myself on one of the opposite pitch corners.

The staff of both teams entered, chatting happily before starting to lay down the colorful cones on the grass for the warm-up, under the curious and excited look of the first spectators. The mild weather seemed to have soothed everyone’s mood.

A few clapping hands announced the arrival of the players, focused, gazing straight forward, their jog steady and determined. The press had already set their own army of cameras and microphones and the sound of shutters clicked all around me. Unfortunately, I had not been left alone in my corner. Moreover, I was growing a little irritated when other photographers didn’t bother to keep a decent distance around me…

Still, as usual, she was the one to brighten my mood, running to the cage in front of me. Misa, Léa and the goalkeeper coach began to do some passes and I used the small group to adjust my presets, lowering shutter speed to the minimum to get the details sharp and the moving bodies perfectly frozen.

The sun was now high and bright and I took off my jacket to freshen up. I rolled up the sleeves of my white shirt, the one I always wore during official games, to let the weak sunlight warm up the sun-deprived skin of my arms. My eyes fell on Misa’s bracelet on my wrist. The real Misa did a nice catch and my chest swelled with pride. I took a few shots of her, sighing with ease, and longing to have her just for me, later on this evening.

The first shots I took were a little too tightly framed and I wondered if I should change to my telephoto lens. I stepped back to determine if the view would be better with a little more distance but walking backward, my heel bumped against something. My heart jolted as I tripped, losing my balance without anything to hold back. I was even more in shock when my body crashed into something hard yet fragile, the deafening sound of glass exploding rang loudly in the stadium. A piercing pain staggered me in the arm before I fell onto the ground.

Dizzy and deafened, I could only see unknown faces coming above me.

I closed my eyes.

Pain.

I touched my arm where it was the most dolorous. I frowned as I felt something warm and poised under my palm. Another painful spot pulsed around my hips, where I had landed. Up, people seemed to talk to me but I felt disconnected.

I blinked again, and retrieved my hand. My breathing quickened as I discovered my palm soaked in red. I swallowed hard, still stunned. The unfamiliar faces of the photographers were replaced by the familiar ones of the players. They were talking too, but my brain still didn’t seem to fully function, until the panicked face of Misa came in sight.

I stared at her, showing her the blood on my hand and words seemed to finally reach me through the fog.

“… Don’t worry, Nicky, I’ll get help!“

“I’m going! You stay with Nicky,” Léa’s voice stepped in.

I closed my eyes again. I was starting to feel nauseous. Other voices mixed altogether, in which I recognized Hayley’s.

“Oh my god, Nicky!”

“Nicky!”

“Oh no, nuestra Nicky!”

“Buscad ayuda! Déjala!”, the goalie’s voice was high-pitched, her tone clearly alarmed.

That made me dare to take a look at my arm. 

It was crimson, blood had completely soaked the rolled-up sleeve.

“Shhh, Nicky listen to me, don’t panic,” Misa took my hand into hers, pouring her brown gaze into mine and speaking slowly. “Don’t move.”

Even in my current state, a part of my brain knew I shouldn’t look at her like that, like she was the only thing that matters…

“Misa…”

“I’m here, don’t move… it’s going to be alright,” Misa’s reassuring voice appeased me.

All my senses were coming back to me and with them, a lot of pain.

“My arm… my back! What… what happened?” I stuttered.

“You fell through some kind of glass photo frame or something. There’re glass shards everywhere. Really, don’t move, Nicky,” Misa answered.

She sounded calm but her lips were twitching.

“Misa.” I repeated.

“Libere el paso, por favor!” A loud man’s voice resounded, close.

The brunette attempted to stand but I held her down, her hand still locked in mine.

“Don’t…”

“Nicky, let go. You’ll be in good care. I promise,” the goalie murmured.

Her lips drew the beginning of a smile and I loosened my grip, reluctantly. Her large hand slipped away, stained with red, and she stepped back to let the medical assistance reach me.

Strong arms lifted my body onto a gurney, my face angling to get a last glimpse of Misa before going.

The apparent calmness had disappeared from the goalie’s face, replaced by pure striking panic as the doctors carried me away, less than an hour before the game’s kick-off.

Starting over In Madrid - Season 2 Reposting because of a bug :( please show it some love

Chapter 16 ➺ Winter lights

WC: 5K words TW: angst but not only NB: I recommend listening Formentera by Aitana which is a recurrent song through the story. Should have said it before.

Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.

Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter Chapter 13 ➺ Dangerous steps Chapter 14 ➺ The fall Chapter 15 ➺ Broken nights

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Of course I love her. 

The words kept ringing in my mind as I navigated through the numerous guests, their eyes locked on the frames, unaware of their author escaping through the hall. I was glad they weren’t paying attention to me. I couldn’t wait to reach my small private room where I’d lock myself away for a moment and probably cry. I didn’t know how to deal with what I’d just heard. Even if we had been about to kiss in the elevator just yesterday, hearing those words hit me on another level. I knew now she was suffering, aching like I had been for weeks and it felt impossible to tame my feelings anymore. 

I felt the pain again, blunt and vivid, the tearing sensation of being deprived of her, of a part of myself being ripped apart. I swallowed to help my throat relax, the burning feeling of tears rising in my weary eyes, I quickened my pace therefore, slaloming between people until I ran into Hayley at the end of the gallery. Unable to compose myself, I froze in front of her, her face mirroring my own panic. 

“Not here”, I cut her off before she even spoke and I waved her to follow me to the small room. 

“Nicky!?“, she called in dismay as soon as I had closed the door. 

“It’s her… I overheard her talking to Léa… she said she still loves me…” I bit my lips, fighting against the truth, working madly at preventing the words from leaving my mouth but they came out anyway. “I still love her too, Hayley! I love her so much!” 

Sadness and exhaustion crept up on me. I leant onto the table and Hayley came to hold me in her arms. I let my head fall against her shoulder, realizing how solitary I was since the break up. I had shut myself from most people, including her, my best friend here in Madrid, when I had tried to pull away from everything related to Misa. Now, her soft patting was showing me how much I missed the comforting presence of a friend at my side.

“I know it hurts Sweetie. Breathe. You are still heartbroken and it’s okey to feel that way” Hayley murmured. She didn’t sound surprised by my revelation so I deduced she and the goalkeeper had remained close.

“When does it stop hurting? Is it that hard for her?” I didn’t know why I asked her that, I only knew I had very little control over anything anymore. I could tell Hayley was embarrassed, reluctant to give away her friend’s feelings. However, after a deep sigh, she answered.

“Yes, it has been, and it’s still very hard for her. But you know Misa, she’s buried herself in work so she can’t feel anything”. 

I didn’t know what to answer. I had done pretty much the same, and had thought it was working, but in the end, dismay was as vivid as the first day now that the emotions were resurfacing. Although now, I knew that it was a shared pain and that changed everything.

Hayley nudged me.

“Come on Nicky, it’s your night, you did an amazing work and everybody’s proud of you. You should be proud of yourself and enjoy the moment! What can I do to make you feel better… maybe we could go dancing? I think I’m hearing music! ” 

The energy of the party attracted me. It had been my remedy, but only as a photographer. I hadn’t been part of those nights, not really, and I hadn’t danced for so long. It felt weird just to think about it and I wasn’t sure dancing really appealed to me anymore.

“Nicky! Dance and photography, that’s how we became friend together. Let’s go, girl!” Insisted Hayley.

My first thoughts went to Misa. We had become friend through dance. I remembered our first night at the club in Chueca. I remembered her hips pressing against mine, her strong hold as she conducted our dance, her brown eyes lighting a flame inside my heart. 

The flame had lasted in our hearts until tonight, I thought, almost choking. That thought pulled me toward the dancehall and toward her, suddenly, and I nodded to Hayley.

“Great!” The Aussie triumphed without knowing my inner conflict. 

I followed her back to the gallery. We passed in front of a series of portraits. Face after face scrolled by. The enlarged head of the goalkeeper was among them, her round face in black and white, peering at the horizon, her plump lips bearing the traces of a pout. I remembered when I had taken the shot. She was finishing training and coming back to the locker room, her gloves and a bottle of water in hand. I had followed her and she had turned to an unusual direction with a quick, discreet shove of her head. She had entered a small room. She had pinned me to the wall. I could still feel the taste of her mouth on my tongue right now. 

We reached the dancing hall when I recalled the way her hand had slipped under my pants. Stars had been dancing, I had cried her name in a whisper, and she had held me close, covering my spent face with kisses. “Te amo, guapa,” she had said.

“Sounds good!” Hayley pulled me away from my memories and into the crowd of dancers. I felt awkward in the middle of people having fun, my brain clouded by the memory, the ghostlike feel of Misa making my limbs stiff. I was taken aback, standing still among the moving bodies.

Hayley took my hands gently, “Sweetie, let go.”

She moved slowly, and I tried to follow just as Maelle and Teresa spotted us. They looked so cheerful, so alive, when they joined us. How great it had to be to feel that way! Maybe if I moved with an equal dedication I would taste their joy. I had never given it a try at the club because nobody had been expecting me to do so. Here it was different. I was the focus of attention. Like Maelle and Teresa’s intrigued glances suggested, I was supposed to look happy and accomplished, not lost in melancholy, wiggling weirdly on the dance floor.

Something in my brain snapped, wrecked from trying and failing to fake it. My moves got loose. Fuck them! I was going to dance if that was what everybody wanted! They were all waiting for the photographer of the night to enjoy herself. They were going to have it.

So, suddenly, I danced for real. I smiled, I laughed, I set my mind free. I wasn’t Nicky anymore. I was a photographer on her opening night, celebrating how she was supposed to. The dance floor was becoming crowded and the music louder. It was perfect. Perfect to move along the rhythm and to forget anything else. Misa didn’t exist, I had never met her. I danced and danced, every time more wildly, becoming one with the fake happy woman wearing my face. Hayley was smiling broadly, buying the lie I had crafted for everyone, including myself. The bar was full of partiers waiting for their drinks. I could do with a drink too. It would be a nice reward for having gotten rid of her. Misa was nobody, no one. Why would I feel sad if I was not in love? And if she didn’t exist, why was she sitting on a stool at the bar? Why was she looking at her phone instead of dancing at a party? Why was my heart aching again like somebody had just punched me in the stomach? Why, if I wasn’t in love? 

There was a wave of swirling dancers and the goalkeeper was out of view. I tried to refocus on the dance and on my mascarade but I couldn’t. The impostor was gone, the mask with it. I wanted to find her again. The music changed and the tall persons who were blocking my view walked away. Instantly I stretched my neck, looking for the stool where she had been seated on and found it empty. I couldn’t help but pray she hadn’t gone home. My brain had switched completely once again, driven by an urge to see her as our group was pushed further at the center of the dance floor. And among the waves of moving heads, was her face. She was dancing with Caroline and Signey, looking sightly absorbed by the song’s rhythm. My heart tightened as I realized I felt relieved to see her having fun with her friends. What was going on with me? I couldn’t let myself fall for the goalkeeper after all my efforts to keep my distance! But how could I stay away from her knowing her feelings for me were intact? Maybe that was the reason why I didn’t step back when the crowd pushed our little group closer to hers and when, inevitably, the two groups started to merge into one. 

From the opposite side of the dance circle, Misa took a few seconds to realize I was there. She looked down, embarrassed, her dance suddenly timid. My moves got tensed too, like I had become conscious of every muscle in my body. I tried to relax to blend in with the other girls’ casual dance but the goalie’s presence inside the dance circle was swallowing everything else. Fortunately, nobody cared about us. Time had passed and with nothing to feed it, it was long since the misacertijo had been forgotten. The players seemed to have totally forgotten their past assumptions. They didn’t notice how we kept glancing at each other, swift and shy, and nobody noticed when we locked eyes as a new song began, its first notes connecting our two minds right away. 

Porque desde que estás aquí Aquí cerca de mí Que tú eres mi baby Ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa

Memories linked our bodies, a string between us, a beam of sorrow. 

A wild dance beside a pool. 

Delicate hands healing a wound.

New movements of the crowd made us break our eye contact, people were having their ways through our circle and our group dissolved in the mass of dancers. For a moment, I was lost in the sea of faceless people, their joy and energy repelling me suddenly. My constant fight against my feelings was wearing me down to the bone. I knew it was time to go out to smoke to avoid another mental breakdown. With any luck, a cigarette would grant me the blank, numbed mind I needed so much. 

My arms carved a path between moving bodies, some of them huddled together. I shouldered my way a few more feet, the edge of the dance floor in sight. A perfume reached my nostrils, sweet and floral. A head turned around, its dark brown dyed hair swirling, spreading the suffocating scent all around. And her beautiful face was there, right in front of me. 

We locked eyes again, the string between us back and stretched to the maximum as her longing froze my body onto the spot. At that moment, all I could think of was how insanely attractive she was.

Porque desde que estás aquí Aquí cerca de mí Que tú eres mi baby Ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa

My brain recomposed her soft and slender voice singing in place of Aitana, and I pictured her taking care of my wounds, lying on her sofa. Her concentrated features merged with the troubled ones standing in front of me and a foolish force pulled my body forward, surprising the goalkeeper who opened her eyes wide, her confusion showing more as I placed my hand onto her arm. I realized she was looking, astonished, at the bracelet attached to my wrist. 

I withdrew my hand immediately but my gaze rested hesitantly on hers. I didn’t know why I had done so, I only knew I could not stand to see her in pain. Misa was frozen too, unblinking, her chest rising up and down faster as I opened my mouth, wishing, willing to find the right words to say. Because of what I had eavesdropped, I knew something she didn’t and I wanted to fix that, to make things fair. I wanted to let her know that I shared that pain, that she wasn’t alone, and that if I could, I would give anything to take both of our pain away. But keeping her bracelet had already proved that and I fell short of what else I could come up with. 

I hadn’t had time to say anything. Somebody jostled me rather roughly and I plunged forward right against the young goalie. Strong arms took me, wrapping themselves around me as I regained my balance. More people pushed around us, trying to exit the dance floor, and Misa had no choice but to hold me against her, our faces barely inches away from each other. 

The feel of her embrace shrouded me, overwhelming. I was in the elevator again but I had no panic attack this time, drowning in her perfume, aware of her cheek brushing mine as I stayed pressed against her hard muscular body. My arms were folded between our chests, my hands closed in two fists. Misa was barely moving, unfailing at protecting me from the movements of the crowd. 

A few seconds later, people had stopped swirling in every direction and had settled in tight groups, giving us back some space. However, I was once again unable to stop breathing in that intoxicated scent of her and leave the powerful and reassuring hold of her arms.

Not now. One more second, please. Just one. 

Another one. To lose myself in it, in her. 

To forget. 

We broke up. 

The thought of us stabbed me like a knife, sharp and piercing, and I pulled back suddenly but only to fall into her lost eyes. I was taller because of the hills and my glance unusually leveled with hers, suspended. Her face was so damned beautiful, she had put light make up on, her smoky eyes enhancing her gaze which was already so intense. Resting on her chest, my fists unfolded and lay flat on the skin of her neckline, moist under my palms. She had loosened her grasp but had not let me go completely. Anyway, it was those brown almond-shaped eyes that were ensnaring me as they begged me to stay here. The pulled string had now shrunk to inches in a perfect horizontal line, thin but strong, almost vibrant. I could cross those inches to kiss her now, as her lips were inviting me, waiting, trembling, to do so. 

I was loosing it. All of it. My entire being driven toward her and her only. All the feelings I had for her were spurting madly from where I had locked them down two months ago in a hurricane of overwhelming emotions.

No! No, I couldn’t go all over again! I couldn’t handle it! I was not going to fall for it another time! She had dumped me! She had broke my heart! I had make it there, at Real Madrid, without her! It had been too hard to come to where I was now, able to feel little joys, little success, barely able to bear the loneliness that crushed me every night.

The string broke apart.

I tore myself from her arms and fled through the crowd, not looking back as excruciating pain choked me. I pushed people more roughly than before. I needed to get out of here desperately and to bury my feelings for her back deep down. I had to beat them down, to destroy them so they could never escape again. Once for good. 

I finally reached the edge of the dance floor and rushed to my room to take my stuff. It was too risky to stay here another minute. I felt more lost than ever, diving back into my feelings as I packed my things into a backpack and headed back toward the main entrance. I escaped the building. Tension eased as soon as I was outside, but I paused a few feet away from the door, the need to smoke urgent. 

I dropped my bag and exhaled deeply. I didn’t know how to handle my emotions anymore. My heart was about to explode, wrecked with pain. It was freezing cold tonight, the longest night of the year, and my breath let out puffs of steam as I took another deep breath to calm myself down. I leaned onto the wall, pulled out a cigarette and put it between my lips. I lit it up, the first drag appeasing me a little more, helping me to clear my burned-out brain. I made a promise to myself. I wasn’t going to spoil everything I had worked so hard to build because of Misa. I would make sure I would never be that close to the Canarian goalkeeper again. Never. 

I heavily breathed out smoke, the sound of music suddenly louder with somebody going out. I brought the cigarette back to my mouth, wishing nobody would find me there no matter who they were. “Damned it!“ I muttered under my breath as a shadow stretched toward me. I took out my phone, the cigarette hanging from my mouth, a clear message to signal whoever was here that I wasn’t keen to talk. 

The sound of footsteps got clearer with the shadow on the floor growing. A silhouette finally appeared around the corner, and I dared to glance up at the tall figure standing a few feet away. My heart leaped. It was Misa and her attitude had changed to the opposite, assured and oozing self-confidence. I peered at her, astonished, as she walked toward me, her pace determined. I knew then she wasn’t here by chance. She had been looking for me. 

Misa faced me, stared at me ostensibly, her eyes locked onto my cigarette with a hard frown. She looked furious. Had I offended her by leaving the dance floor? Why had she been looking for me then? To have a fight? To scold me? 

But she didn’t let me have the time to make any more assumptions. Without warning, her fingers ripped the cigarette from my lips, threw it on the floor and crushed it. I gasped, staring back, shocked and outraged. My heart drummed so hard in my chest, its beating went crazy when she took my face in her hands, her hold firm and assured, and crashed her lips onto mine. 

I let out a first whine of surprise, and a second of release. My brain boiled with dozens of questions, dying one after the other as her lips worked fiercely over mine. Thinking became completely impossible. I couldn’t stop her. Worse, my whole being had been wanting this so badly I started to kiss her back without restraint. 

It felt all brand new and yet extraordinary familiar to make out with her. My hands automatically found their way around her muscular shoulders and up her neck, to the baby hair at  her nape. Misa’s taste and the way her lips enfolded mine could not be compared to anything else. Only her plump and full lips could wrapped themselves softly like this, yet demanding, yet commanding and I didn’t even fight before I surrendered to them as the tip of her tongue brushed over my lips. I cocked my head to the side and her tongue plunged into my mouth, filling me with a fire I had not felt for weeks. A peaceful haze had me dazzled, like her kiss, the smell of her breath and the feel of her grasp keeping me close were erasing the bruises of my heart, which had lasted far longer than the ones left by my accident. 

Misa’s mouth finally parted from my lips and she rested her forehead against mine, both of us out of breath, the puffs of steam dancing around our faces in the cold night. 

“Hey“, I said, closing my eyes to sink a little deeper in our closeness. 

“Hey“, she echoed, her breathing shaky. She had gone straight outside and was shivering, freezing in her thin clothes.  

I leaned back. Misa’s anxious gaze followed mine as if she feared I was going to dismiss her. I simply took off my long coat to put it around her shoulders, before I snuggled up to her and wrapped the cloth around us both. 

Misa had made my brain crash. I couldn’t think, nor could recall why we couldn’t be together in the first place. My arms ensnared her torso, pressing her more against me. The goalkeeper buried her nose in my hair, her heavy breathing blowing strongly against the shell of my ear. She hugged me back like crazy. I closed my eyes, wishing to stay like this forever, in that suspended moment. I’d never allowed myself to dream of something like that, spontaneous and visceral, and I wasn’t understanding how we had ended up clumped together, two bodies shaped into one, trembling under a coat, when I had fought so hard to keep my distance from her, only minutes ago. Staying apart required a mental strength I was forced to admit I no longer had. 

Misa lifted my chin, her soft look swallowing my emotions as my brain vainly tried to reconnect with reason. 

“Nicky… I” she began. 

“Please don’t go,” I cut in. Reason had failed.

She gasped. Her lips stretched into a guilty smile.

“Should I take you back inside? Or home?”

“I don’t want to go back,” I confessed, reaching out to her face. Extreme fatigue and deep liberation were putting my brain in slow motion. The curious stare of the goalie, waiting for my decision, accompanied me as I took her back in my arms. “I’m already home.” I said. 

I felt her deep breath. 

“Esperame. Wait,” she asked, parting from me. Her eyes were shiny and she covered her face as she headed back inside. 

I stayed there, hovering in an overwhelming mix of emotions, until the young brunette came back, her coat on and her car keys in her hand. She pulled up my bag onto her shoulder and we headed toward the underground parking lot. We climbed inside her car, taking a minute or so to warm up inside the vehicle, before the goalie turned on the engine. 

The drive back to my flat would be quick, only taking a few minutes, but I was back at floating and time stretched strangely into the night. I shot glances at the goalkeeper to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. The goalie stayed focused on the road, a discreet smile animating her pretty mouth until we reached home. 

“Are you alright?” Misa asked, breaking our quietness as she parked in front of the building.  

“I’m so confused…” I confessed.

“Oh… I understand. I’m dropping you off and…”

“No,” I cut in, eyes on the windscreen. 

“I think you should rest. Process what’s happening.”

Misa placed her hand onto my thigh. The contact was soft and light but it enfolded my whole body and I locked eyes with her. 

“No. No, I can’t let you go.” I stated, feeling my heart crumble at the thought.

She smiled, frankly, making her dimple pop up on her cheek and freeing something warm like joy from the deepest part of me.

“Vale, ya te sigo. Lead the way.”

When we entered the apartment, my confusion had changed into something urgent. I had the ominous feeling Misa would disappear if I turned or blinked, but when she elegantly dropped my stuff on the wooden floor of the entrance and helped me pull off my coat, the fog of quiet bliss settled back around me. Then she faced me, her timid smile replaced by a striking melancholy as she watched me with an intensity that left me breathless. 

My hands fell onto her nape as I pulled her close. I felt her heavy breathing against my chest, holding in my arms the woman who broke my heart, and also her own, and I shivered when her lips brushed my ear. 

“I want you back…” she mumbled, so low it was barely audible.

“Shhh,” I whispered, eyes closed, sinking a little more into our embrace. 

I didn’t want to talk. No, it was more like I wasn’t able to talk about what was happening. I just felt a strange quiet peace, being in her arms, breathing in her sweet perfume as my lips grazed the column of her neck. 

“Eh… I just have to tell you I’m flying to Gran Canaria tomorrow at 10 am. I’ll wake up at six, I’ll try to be quiet,” Misa said.

A soft moan escaped my lips, taken aback by the prospect of her leaving so soon, and I squeezed her a little harder.

“Let’s go to bed then.” I said, hiding my confusion. 

I released her and headed to the bedroom. I undressed messily, abandoning my clothes onto the floor, and putting on a large T shirt. When I had finished I glanced at Misa, waiting in underwear, nibbling at her lips.

“Can I borrow something to wear for the night ?” She asked, embarrassed. 

“Yep” I replied, biting my lips as well as I opened the cupboard. I knew I still had the few clothes she had left. I didn’t rummage in it for long before finding one of her T-shirts. “Here, you’re lucky. I’ve never liked this one, it got very close to ending up in the trash bin,” I said, throwing her a cream oversized printed T shirt. 

“What? But it’s a Scuffers!” Misa took offense. 

As she put the improvised pyjamas on, I couldn’t help but think how badly I had missed her whole, unbearable personality. But I was in no state of showing it. I was still floating in another world. Shrouded by her presence, I took her hand nevertheless, in need of a constant physical contact, and dragged her to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry but your toothbrush didn’t survive, here’s a new one” I indicated.

The young goalie sized up the brush and wet it under the tap. 

“That’s far more acceptable than the Scuffers T shirt” she mumbled, her mouth full of toothpaste.

I stared at us, brushing our teeth, in the mirror reflection. We looked tired, what we both probably were. Misa’s shoulders appeared bigger, the muscle volume nicely filling the T-shirt sleeves. Compared to her, I seemed lost in the fabric of my large pyjamas. 

Readied for the night, we rejoined each other in bed. I turned off the light, letting the streetlight paint the room with its yellowish tint as we reached out for each other under the duvet. We locked eyes, getting accustomed to the darkness, and slid toward the center of the mattress until there were no inches left between our bodies. Inside of me, a light had been switched on. My hands fell on her face, the skin dry from countless hours of training in the winter wind. My fingers traced the thick shape of her eyebrows, her eyes leaving mine only to blink a few times. I studied her nose, noticed something was missing. 

“You took off your nose ring,“ I remarked. 

“Si, I grew tired of taking it off and on.” 

“I like your nose. It’s cute.“

I delicately brushed the spot on her nostril before the tips of my index finger skimmed over her smiling lips. Her mouth relaxed and she held me a little tighter in her arms. My own mouth replaced my fingers playing with her lips. I sunk into the kiss, pressing, pulling, tasting more of Misa in the quietness of the longest night of the year, as a cold moon appeared in the cloudy sky. The room turned bluish with the winter lights, glazing the brunette’s hair with silver. 

Our lips parted, an inch or so, just enough to drink in each other’s gaze. 

“I can’t stop loving you.” I confessed. 

I barely registered the silver flickering in the goalie’s eyes before I nested against her and closed mine. 

“No puedes dejar amarte tampoco. Please don’t stop loving me.” She said. 

“Will you call me during the holidays?” I asked, drowsiness taking over me. 

“Every day, Azucariño.”

Thank you so much bestie! I really appreciate your support! next chapter should be out next week-end 😉

Until then I leave you with this hot capi Misa 🫡