The pre-camp, unsurprisingly, is tame and boring. With an increasingly more serious atmosphere but a cautious workload, training sessions are mentally intense but, physically, a breeze. After an unwanted review with one of the physios, I get told that my runs around the KNVB centre are not damaging as long as I do not overextend myself. The team doctor also pulls me in for a meeting, having collected the data from the Barcelona medical team. I try not to think about how I'll probably end up on my period during the World Cup. Plenty of other players will be in the same situation, and they will manage just fine. (I have to see the doctor every day to track my cycle no matter how much I protest.)

Alexia is an ever-present notification, and our conversation never seems to end. I start bringing my phone with me if I go to the bathroom during training, just so that I can text her back.

We play Belgium as a pre-World Cup match, instructed to use the time during the game to work out the last of the kinks in our play before we head off to the other side of the world in five days. The pre-camp, no matter how dull, pays off. We win five goals to none, and I get a brace.

Jill and I are discussing the best teams in the tournament ahead of us that evening, and it is then that I realise I am not as inconspicuous as I had hoped. "I don't even know why you're asking me about the Spanish team when you only have to type out a letter for Alexia Putellas to call you," she says with a roll of her eyes. "You're like a teenager. On your phone at training, kicking your feet, twirling your hair."

I snort. "That's never happened."

"It might as well. You're blushing now." I groan, pressing my face into my hands. She giggles, proud that she'd embarrassed me. With most of our teammates no longer in the canteen, we have the place to ourselves. She can tease me however much she wants. "I thought you hated her, though. I think I missed something."

"We got closer."

"The Champions League?" I nod – it was a shared goal. It was easy to be professional about it. Civility just... evolved. "It distracted you guys from it, I get that. And with that distraction, you forgot to carry on hating each other!" She claps, pleased. "I've been waiting for it, I'll be honest. How did you leave things in Barcelona, then?"

Sighing, I know this isn't what Jill wants to hear. "I said we should see what happens after the World Cup. She agreed, Jill, so it isn't like I–"

"What, so you kissed?"

"We slept together."

Her jaw goes slack, mouth wide open. "What?!"

"Oh, I thought that was implied."

"Kissing is different to a whole... You went from, like, -100 to 2000. You hated her, then you tolerated her, and now you... Well, it's clear you like her."

"Ja. I like her."

"But you're not dating her," Jill says slowly, perhaps trying to make sense of it all.

With a shrug, I tell her what I told Jaimie. "I said that we should wait until after the World Cup. Which is sensible."

"Only you would torment Alexia Putellas by not giving her what she wants."

I raise my eyebrows at that. "She's not entitled to me. I could easily tell her no. She'd have to take it."

"But, Fleur, I beg, don't."

"I'm not planning to." I lean back in my chair, staring at the empty plate in front of me as I find a way to manoeuvre this conversation to some other topic. I already think about Alexia enough as it is. I do not need her to be all I talk about as well.

Jill, sensing the desired shift, gasps sharply. "I just remembered you're having a documentary filmed. I'll get to be on TV!" As if she isn't every week. "The crew's joining us for the flight, aren't they? That's the start of it."

"And the end is a long way away." Part of me resents Jaimie for roping me into this. "You're on the list of interviewees. You're going to have to sing my praises loud and clear."

"Oof. That'll be difficult."

I kick her under the table.

━━━━━━━

I meet the film crew in the airport.

They're on our flight, which I shouldn't have been surprised about.

My crew consists of three people: a cameraman, Erik; the director, Olivia; and the sound guy, Sam. Jaimie has her own. For ease (and money), we're filming mostly in English. Olivia actually lived in my building in London, though I don't know this until our brief conversation ends up being a discussion about south London.

They promise not to be too invasive.

I sit next to Esmee on the first flight, solely because her reserved, inward personality is very convenient if I want to sleep. Or talk to Alexia, who's halfway through her journey down under and bored out of her mind.

However, an hour or so into the flight, Esmee tells me a very interesting secret. She's currently playing at PSV, but, as I know, our league is not necessarily the best to make you into the best player in the world. "Barcelona want to sign me," she whispers, leaning across the divide.

I let my phone fall to my lap, screen open on the conversation between Alexia and I about cars and how mine is easily better. "You should come."

"I'm scared," she admits. We don't talk often, Esmee and I, but she reminds me of me when I was given the opportunity to transfer to Lyon. "I can't speak Spanish, and they are all insanely good at football."

"So are you." She's talented and young. She is the future. Barcelona love to invest in the future. "I'll be there, and they all speak English. They'll pretend they don't to try to force you into learning Spanish, but Keira Walsh has proven to be terrible at languages and now everyone is at least bilingual." Apart from the poor English girl. She tries, at least.

"Should I start learning Spanish?" Her quiet excitement is adorable. "They're in talks with my agent – I think they're negotiating my contract. I'm not fully decided. Germany is closer to family. Wolfsburg want me as well, and they made it to the Champions League final."

"Only to be beaten by us."

"I guess."

"Esmee, you can't turn down an opportunity like this."

She nods, taking my advice. "I'm going to see if they still want me after this tournament. I'll go if they do."

"They will." I'm sure of it.

"Do you like it there?" she then asks, tugging her headphones from where they rest at her neck and slipping them into her rucksack in the footwell.

I do the same, putting my airpods back in their case, taking the hint that this conversation is going to continue for a while. Alexia will simply have to wait for my opinion on Formula One. "It is a very unique atmosphere. It's like beach volleyball. It's fun and happy and friendly until you realise just how competitive and intense it really is. I like it."

Esmee laughs, amused by my comparison. Personally, I think it is very fitting. Down to the climate. "The team, as a whole, is more like being part of a family. They are all very close," I continue. "But they are welcoming, too. Don't be discouraged."

"And Alexia Putellas?"

Her smirk is slight but present all the same. I wonder if she has been coaxed into doing this by Jill, though I deem it highly unlikely. The breath I take in is deep and calming, ready to explain. "She and I did not get on, but I don't think it was an issue with her personality. It was very specific to the two of us. She's nice."

"Sounds complicated," she replies with a chuckle. "I've heard that. I've also heard you violating her at every national camp since you moved there."

My blush is that of embarrassment. The worst thing, I think, about Alexia and I no longer hating each other is having to endure three million 'I told you so's. And they're only from Jaimie. "She was a bitch to me," I insist. I had this conversation with Alexia last night, actually. She told me that she hated how I didn't speak Spanish. And that I let the door shut on her face. And that my dress at last year's Ballon d'Or ceremony was too revealing. "But we have set aside our differences."

"Jill told me you fucked."

"As I said. We set aside our differences." In fact, my phone buzzes with Alexia's command to finish my text. She says that I can't have that much to say, wondering why I'm taking so long to type. Esmee doesn't understand Spanish, but she can see exactly who the messages are from. "It is a very recent development. I know Jill is a gossip, but I'd advise you not to be."

"Alright, Fleur. Just for you and your complicated love life."

I poke her shoulder as punishment for the total sarcasm dripping off her tone. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Do you want to play UNO?"

━━━━━━━

Two days later, we arrive in Sydney. The jet-lag will be severe, and we are instructed not to sleep until tomorrow, but, with the whole day ahead of us, Jill and I embark on a hunt for coffee in the airport.

It's an odd sight; the both of us are in our travel kit and are being followed by a camera crew. We have to wait half an hour for our transfer anyway, so none of the staff mind that we have run away.

"Australian coffee is so good," she says as soon as she takes the first sip. "So so good."

It tastes like home, sort of. Like being in Melbourne for the summer holidays, and waking up early to train with the Matildas youth teams. Coffee is not something I drink often, simply because I don't really like it. But that isn't because of the flavour. It's because of the memories that come with it.

I was urged strongly by Jaimie to talk to our mother leading up to the World Cup. Mum and I are in touch, though it is hardly frequent nor substantial. It is probably wrong to resent her for leaving, but I can't help but do just that. Ever so slightly.

"So is your mother going to watch any matches?" Jill asks, treading lightly upon fragile ice. We head back to where the team is sitting, around two-hundred metres away from them.

"She's going to the Matildas games until we play in Australia. A few of my cousins are coming, though. One lives in Wellington anyway." I am not as close to that side of my family, but they love and support me just as much as they should. It is not their fault that we grew up in separate hemispheres. "My father is in England, watching Jaimie at Wimbledon."

"She's doing well, I've seen."

I nod. "She's won the three previous tournaments. Leah Williamson proves to be a lucky charm." Jill smiles at this, loving the gossip. Most people in our circles know that they are together, though I am not sure it is entirely public. You'd think so, with how much they go out, draped over one another as though every room has a bed in it. "They're sickening, Jill."

"I never thought Jaimie would fall in love in such a... domestic way. I mean, c'mon, Jaimie."

Snorting at the implication, I agree with her, sitting down once we reach the team. My coffee is almost finished. "Serial-hookup Jaimie. I know."

"And Leah Williamson," Jill carries on, meaning Daan's ears perk up from her own conversation. She inserts herself between Jill and I, grabbing my cup and draining the remains of my drink without hesitation.

"Leah's hilarious, isn't she? Thinking of returning to Arsenal?" It's directed at Jill. She wants to leave Wolfsburg. I suspect she will not go back to her old club, but rather push for Barcelona or something similar. Or maybe she wants a worse team. That way, she can swoop in and save them.

"Nee. We're talking about Jaimie and Leah."

"Ha, Fleur, I bet you hated that one," Daan jibes with a smirk. I glare at her.

I think the word 'hate' reminds Jill of a fun bit of information she is slowly (rapidly) distributing to the team. I should never have told her.

"Oh my God, Daan, you'll never guess–"

I walk off, phone buzzing with a call from Alexia anyway.

"Hola." She sounds tired and bored. "Are you in Australia yet?"

"We just landed," I inform her, noticing how easily a smile spreads on my face the minute I talk to her. Even if she sounds like someone just forced her to sit through a lecture on different types of grass.

"Good. I want to have a nap but I can't fall asleep."

"Let me put my headphones in. I'll stay on call until you do."

I keep my word. I hang up half an hour later, convinced to do so by the soft, steady breathing coming from the other end of the phone, finally joining the game of Monopoly Deal (Vic has been influenced by Viv, clearly, and is now obsessed with the game). No one says anything about how I have been quietly speaking in Spanish for the first part of the journey. They get too distracted by the fact that I am already winning the game. I make sure to tell Alexia that we have to play this when we get back to Barcelona. I love beating her. I love her, I think.

notes: 

i'm hungover so i wrote this and have not checked it x

be prepared for a little time skip

thanks for reading!!!!!!!