Alexia groans as we wake up, muttering something about her back hurting. The sound is too close to my ear, too loud, too understandable, for Alexia to be where she was when I had last been awake. I open my eyes reluctantly, wanting the peacefulness to stay longer, not prepared to let how comfortable I am be ruined by who the person lying almost completely on top of me happens to be.

She spreads out, still half-asleep, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling like I will get pins and needles if I don't move them. "You're going to suffocate me," I mumble as she somehow pulls the blanket up to cover my face. "I know you don't like me, but murder is a bit drastic."

"Who says I do not like you?" Her words are muffled by the cushions her face is buried in, but the smirk she bears is evident in her tone. She is slowly waking up.

"You did. Multiple times." To my face, behind my back, and even to our manager. "Why? Have I charmed you?"

"Tal vez."

She sits up, using the back of the sofa as a support as she hauls her body off mine, legs swinging onto the floor as she shudders. It's colder without her, but I'll manage, I decide. Alexia and I have got to stop fucking cuddling.

"Are you hungry? Do you need to go home to your sister?" she asks as I stretch my arms out, clearing her coffee table and stacking our notebooks on top of one another.

"I'm fine right now, and Jaimie's in Menorca, claiming the spa will be the key to her success upon her return to the tour." She just wanted an excuse to get pleasant massages. Physiotherapy is tedious after a while, and I don't blame her for craving the touch of a professional who isn't hellbent on making her writhe in pain. "We have a day off. I think Ingrid wants to go for a hike, and I can't get out of it. What are you going to do today?"

"I am going to go to Mollet del Vallès," she answers with a reminiscent smile that worsens the homesickness still lingering in my chest. "I am going to a big lunch. My mother and sister tell me that I do not visit enough. Nala is with my mother, also."

I was wondering where the demon was.

I get up from the sofa, rubbing my eyes to wake myself up a bit more. She watches as I lace my trainers up, and hands me my notebook on my way out.

"See you soon, Alexia," I tell her as I walk out the door. She nods. There is a sinking disappointment that makes my lips droop into a frown, but my back is to her my the time it is obvious, and I return myself to my apartment where I can forget about the shift between us. It's a good thing that I can now tolerate her company. It isn't so good that it is hard to leave it.

Jonatan is glad to see the change between us, and tests it by adding people to our midfield sessions.

I get the feeling that it became just Alexia and I because it was too dangerous for others to participate, especially when the confusion sets in on Aitana's face when Alexia and I pair up and she is left on her own.

The same expression is worn by Mapi in training, when Alexia pinches the fabric of my sleeve and pulls me in her direction, wanting to continue our conversation from earlier in the morning. She had stopped by my door on her way down, me having conveniently left my apartment just as she walked past. With Jaimie now in France, I leave the house sooner, needing the social interaction I have when with the team.

We mostly ignore it; the looks, the questions. We are both so focused on winning the final that is ever-approaching that it is easy to do that. It's like blocking out the noise of a stadium during a match – it comes naturally.

Our hotel room is now occupied by us the minute dinner was over. There is no avoiding each other, no unnecessarily snarky comments.

It's the last game of the season, and Alexia is worried that we will lose and embarrass ourselves.

I switch the tennis on, and the distraction works. She falls asleep quickly, and I text Jaimie for a bit, wanting to wish her luck for her first match. My sister is confident, as most top five players are in the first part of tournaments, and is even happier that her girlfriend has flown out to watch. There are times when I'm not at all jealous of tennis players, but their freedom is very enviable.

No one can tell Jaimie what she is and isn't allowed to do when she's off the court. She has no captain to worry about, and no stupid teammates to tease her about her non-existent captain's choice to sit next to her at dinner.

Me, on the other hand.

I don't hear the end of it from Ingrid, who is sweet with her intentions but annoying with the execution. It's almost as if she is repeating the rubbish her girlfriend comes up with; Alexia likes you, you like her, you should get together. I know that Alexia and I don't really hate each other anymore, what with the animosity between us dulling with each lunch and walk and sleepy evening at her place, but I do not need to go from one extreme to the other. It would be crazy.

We're out at dinner when I have to consider seeing a psychiatrist.

It's late, as dinnertime is in Spain, and we're someplace new, avoiding what we have discovered to be Talia and Pina's date restaurant, traumatised from the last time we had lunch two tables away from them. They didn't notice us, too busy eating each other's faces instead of the plates of food on their table.

Following our defeat in the last game of the season, Alexia has had a few days of grumbling. I hope she will cheer up before we leave for a short camp tomorrow – I have a feeling that I will be her roommate, and I don't want to deal with a grumpy captain. This version of her is too similar to the woman who used to shout at me every training session, and has the potential to undo the progress we have made.

"Are you planning to eat them or just play with them?" I question as she pushes the croquetas on her plate around, watching as they roll from one end of the dish to the other.

Her glum vow of silence continues, and I sigh, huffing out my frustration loud enough for her to look up at me.

But, still, she says nothing.

"Alexia." I kick her ankle gently under the table; her feet have been resting on mine since we sat down. "What's wrong? You're frowning more than usual."

I thought her mood would have been lifted when she turned down my invitation to join my run because she is going to see her family. She visits them often, which I understand. The Dutch side of my family is incredibly close, both physically and figuratively, and I miss them. I miss my cousins' children, too. They should all be coming to Eindhoven, so it isn't long until I see them next. Jaimie might have a match, but she is hoping to watch. I think she gets to see Leah, too, which explains her determination.

"I am not," she mumbles, picking up a croqueta as if to examine whether or not it should get to be eaten. She's doing everything she can not to look me in the eye, even going as far as to count the cobbles of the pavement under her breath.

It's becoming unbearable to sit here like this, and it feels like I am on a shambolic first date; the kind you end up on when you're nineteen and pursuing something that should have stayed a hook-up in the bathroom of a club. I really don't like it. The absence of conversation means that I start to think back to the last time we talked about football, which is not the last time we spent time together.

That defeats the purpose, doesn't it? Because we are supposed to be analysing our opponents, combining both of our nerdy little football brains to absolutely demolish Wolfsburg on the 3rd of June.

"Ale, please."

She pauses, body frozen in time. I realise my mistake, blushing furiously, but it is too late to take it back. "You never call me that." The ice melts, and she becomes as bright as the summer sun, eyes shining. "Charmed?"

"Tal vez," I reply. "Now, tell me what's wrong. I'm bored of this. I'm sure Ingrid and Mapi would love to have me join their movie night. I can feel my fluency in Norwegian increas–"

"They would hate you for ruining their alone time," she interrupts with a shudder, having experienced what exactly that time consists of. Alexia seems genuinely scared that I will get up and leave. "Y nothing is wrong." I wait. "It's just that my mother and my sister will not stop asking me if I have a girlfriend. They do not understand that there is no time to have a girlfriend, and that... Well, I do not know if I could find one. Es demasiado complicado, y quiero..."

I tune out of her Spanish ranting, not focused enough on the words she is saying to be able to translate them. I don't even know if she is speaking Spanish, because she slips into Catalan whenever she gets passionate about something, and once I've got her talking, she doesn't seem to stop.

All I can think about is something that sets off every alarm bell in my head the moment the thought is conceived, and how relieved I am to not find it to be true. Because, yes, I could be Alexia's girlfriend, but it's still a stupid idea. It would get her family off her back, though. She'd focus on the final, which is technically a professional– No.

When I get back to my apartment, I almost type in 'mental hospitals near me', because being clinically insane would justify maybe... not disliking Alexia at all? And enjoying talking to her. And (who knows why) how enticing her lips look every second of every day.

I want to kiss her again.

I ignore the urge, and keep it between Jaimie and me. She isn't the most encouraging, but even she can't tell me to 'see reason' when I am. Just because her reason and mine are different, doesn't make it invalid.

In fact, it is so important that I try not to remember what Alexia's mouth feels like when we are at the team camp, because they don't hesitate to remind us of who our captain is. Alexia this, Alexia that. She commands us throughout the various training sessions, and weirdly puts a distance between her and me off the pitch. I'm glad for it, using the time with Ingrid and Aitana to squash the butterflies in my stomach and hope that they never return again.

The flowers sitting by my door when I get home are enough to ward any fluttering off for the foreseeable future. The lead weight of grief solidifies in my veins as I drag them inside.

I know you loved her, Flootz. I'm sorry.

My mother. Perhaps Australia is having difficulty with deliveries, because these are late.

Scarlett grins at me when I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. I wonder if I am imagining her face wrong, terrified that I am forgetting her.

It isn't Alexia's fault, but I decide that it makes me feel too guilty to do this. Not with one of her favourite players. Not with a woman who makes me feel twelve times better than Scarlett ever could...

Fuck. 

notes: 

tal vez = perhaps/maybe! 

i'm now craving croquetas lol

in case you were wondering, the date is currently 29th of may 

thanks for reading!!!