Note:

Remember that even though this story is written in English, Mía and Alexia talk in Spanish. And Mía, particularly, doesn't have a very good level in english. Maybe this causes some problems to her...

The two tiles I had been pacing on for the last ten minutes must have been starting to lose their polish. People, laden with suitcases and bags, looked at me, trying to comprehend the hysteria, wondering if the words I was using were those of a deranged Catalan or some kind of Arabic.

"Turn on the damn phone already, you disgusting piece of crap!" I shouted at the screen, which displayed another call directed to voicemail. "I'm going to kill her. She's dead, more than dead."

I cursed her in a thousand different ways, never stopping my steps on the same two tiles, unable to stay still. I was on the verge of losing my mind. She hadn't come to London to sunbathe, that was for sure. Alexia didn't waste time; she wouldn't have traveled today if she could do it tomorrow.

Coming to my rescue and preventing me from tearing out all my hair, Irene urgently took me by the shoulders and shook me, gaining my full attention.

"There's one! There's one!" she exclaimed, pointing at one of the open ticket booths.

I widened my eyes and ran with my friend to it. The woman looked up from her computer and offered a friendly smile. Without waiting for either of us to speak, she began to explain.

"There's a flight. The gate closes in about fifteen minutes. If you hurry, you should be able to make it."

"Really?!"

"Yes! Hurry up. Boarding is at gate K58." She handed me the ticket, and I grabbed it just before rushing to get ahead of a couple of ladies to enter security control.

Alexia's POV

I kept looking back every few seconds, as if expecting some catastrophe to stop me. Josep knew it, and he also knew the reasons why I wouldn't back down, despite going against everything I wanted for myself, which is why he took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as they loaded our luggage.

I hadn't brought much, just a small carry-on bag with a couple of changes of clothes. I didn't plan to stay here any longer than necessary. I'd get tired of it in the next season. I'd sign and leave.

"We'll have to talk to Joan once the pre-contract is signed, although he probably already suspects," Josep leaned against the car seat sent by the english club.

I sighed at his words. "I know." I rubbed my temples with my fingertips. "It's such a surreal situation that I feel like I won't be able to do it." I looked into my agent's eyes, which now regarded me with sympathy. "How do you tell someone who is convinced it's the club of your life? How do you disappoint everyone like that?"

"All decisions have a reason, Alexia," he said with a smile. "You're doing it for someone important to you, and, well, I know it's a difficult decision to communicate, but it's also something anyone could understand. We all do crazy things for the people we love."

"Yes, maybe you're right," I conceded, leaning my head against the car window.

"If you want, I can talk to Joan," he suggested.

"No," I immediately dismissed. "I have to do that myself. It's the least I can do."

Josep didn't reply, and I just stared at the streets that would be my home from July. The day, as expected, greeted me with grayness, filled with cars, pollution, and impatient honking from drivers stuck in traffic, cursing the wasted time moving only a couple of meters.

"Do you think we could postpone talking to Laporta? I'd like to patch things up with Mía first."

Josep shook his head slowly. "I don't think that's a good idea. Leaving the rumors unanswered and the renewal unsigned for any longer than necessary could be seen as a bigger snub to the club and the fans. Keep in mind that they won't know the real reason for your departure."

I swallowed, contemplating. "I understand." I said, resting my head against the seat. "I'm trying to convince myself that it's the right decision, that I'm doing it for her, but I still can't feel good about it."

"Making a decision, even if it's what you want, isn't always pleasant. Your desire may also be suffering for someone, yes, but suffering with joy is something I haven't seen yet, no matter the reason."

"Well, I will. I'm sure of it," I convinced myself with a fleeting smile. "I just need everything to go back to normal between us, and everything will be fine. Being here, playing here, will be the last thing affecting me."

"I hope you're right," Josep leaned his arm against the car door and rested his chin in his hand. "In the meantime, let's try not to make you the new Figo."

I grabbed my phone from my pocket. Maybe Mía had replied to one of the messages, and if not, I could try my luck with a new one.

I pressed the lock button a couple of times. The screen remained black. No messages signed with her name flashing at the top of the screen, no missed calls, not even the wallpaper.

As if by fate, my eyes fell directly on a small, glowing circle on the structure separating us from the driver.

"Hey, Josep," I called to him, "do you have a charger handy? Mine is in my suitcase."

"Yes, of course," he said, searching in the small backpack at his feet. Then, he handed me a white cable. "Here you go."

The little white apple appeared on the screen a few seconds after connecting the phone to the power. Just as long as it took the car to stop in front of the Chelsea offices.

"It didn't even have time to turn on," I grumbled.

"After the meeting, we'll go to the hotel," he informed me. "You can charge it there."

I consoled myself with my firm belief that there would be no response and muttered a few words so Josep would know I had heard him.

I opened the car door and almost collided with the driver, who had exited the vehicle as soon as he applied the handbrake. I apologized, and he went to the trunk to retrieve our luggage. He probably didn't speak a word of Spanish.

"Thank you," Josep said, taking his bags. I nodded in response, wanting to say the same, and the driver retreated courteously. "Let's go; they're waiting for us."

I tried to keep up with my agent's fast pace toward the building. The wheels of my suitcase squeaked against the sidewalk and the entrance path, and I couldn't find the excitement to hurry things along even more.

Behind the main door, a short woman with blonde hair and very large, sparkling green eyes greeted us, full of energy, like a hyperactive little girl hopped up on coffee.

"Hola! Buenos días, Miss Putellas. Estoy honorada de recibirla!" Josep and I exchanged glances, trying to telepathically communicate our impressions of the broken Spanish coming out of the receptionist's mouth. At least she was trying. "Jonh Terry y Emma Hayes están esperando en el tercer suelo".

"Thank you very much," I tried to thank her politely.

Satisfied with her work, the receptionist nodded with a huge smile, again full of energy, and returned to her desk after pointing us to the elevator.

Josep concealed a amused smile as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the number three. I was sure he didn't want to laugh at the effort and dedication she had put into speaking Spanish, or maybe he didn't want to imagine the nonsense he might have said himself in another language, but he couldn't help his lips betraying how amusing the situation had been.

With three melodic ascending tones, the elevator announced our arrival on the third floor. A well-dressed man greeted us, escorting us to one of the rooms at the end of the hallway in complete silence.

Behind the door, a long table illuminated by a large window came into view, accompanied by the president and the team's coach, who stood up.

"Oh, Alexia! Welcome home. Welcome to Chelsea."

(...)

Mía's POV

"PLIS, PLIS, PLIS!" I begged, hands entwined. "I need you to go more!"

The confused look of the taxi driver pierced me through the rearview mirror, and I cursed not paying more attention during high school classes.

I didn't think that he had understood in the slightest what I had just asked, but my frantic gestures with all my limbs and stressed voice were a universal language.

With his shoulders, he indicated that he was doing what he could and pointed to the windows so I could see that many cars surrounded us, making it difficult for him to change lanes as frequently as I would like to pass other vehicles.

My heart was about to jump out of my mouth. Right after landing, I had run as fast as I could, cutting to the front of the line at one of the doors. I dodged English and foreign shoulders at the airport and burst into the first taxi of a poor man who was now cursing his bad luck for being the first one I encountered. I didn't even fasten my seatbelt, and I was sure that was driving him crazy.

I had no idea where I was heading. Fortunately, "Chelsea officins" had been enough for the driver to understand my destination.

Suddenly, and much sooner than I thought, the car stopped on the side of the road, in front of an imposing building that I hoped had Alexia inside.

"Here," he said, resolute. Then, he pointed at the taxi meter so I could see the fare I owed. "It's fifty-two pounds and sixty-eight pence."

I widened my eyes at the currency. I searched my pocket, only finding a twenty-euro bill. I cursed out loud, without caring how the driver might interpret it.

Illuminated, I grabbed my credit card and waved it in front of him. The driver nodded and brought the card reader for me to pay. Once the beep confirmed that neither borders nor the last-minute ticket purchase without checking the price had left me penniless, I opened the door and ran towards the building across the street.

It was then that a car horn startled me. I put both hands to my chest and turned my eyes towards the source. My taxi driver pointed insistently at the building on the other side of the road. I raised my hand in thanks and ran to the nearest pedestrian crossing.

The cars kept passing by, and everything was incredibly congested. The traffic light remained red without any sign of changing. Seconds passed, and time was against me.

I took my phone and called Alexia again.

"Answer, answer, answer," I prayed while keeping my eyes on all the cars passing by in front of me without stopping. Again, phone off or out of coverage. "Crap."

I started jumping in place and pounded the button like an exaggeration, to the astonishment of a lady with several shopping bags.

I was so close, so, so close. Then, the gap between two cars was enough for me to take a risk. I lunged forward, causing several cars to brake abruptly. Amidst insults I didn't understand and several honks, I finally reached the right building.

I ignored the blonde girl who had spoken to me as soon as I entered and went straight upstairs. Once on the first floor, I looked from side to side, seeing only endless hallways with doors on both sides. What did I expect? A glowing sign saying "Alexia Putellas Contract Signing Room"?

I retraced my steps and collided head-on with the receptionist.

"Alexia Putellas!" I exclaimed directly.

"Are you a fan?" she asked.

"No fan," without further explanation, the blonde frowned, not entirely convinced. "Alexia's assistant. Cofis and agendas and events. Lots of things. Muchas! I need to go to Alexia."

"Trabaja en Alexia Putellas?" (Do you work on Alexia Putellas?) I wished I had the time to make the appropriate joke, but I just nodded repeatedly.

"Sí!!!! Me late! Where she?"

Although her Spanish seemed to have some limitations, it was certainly much better than my English.

"Miss Putellas is on the third floor."

Without giving her time to finish, I ran again towards the stairs, knowing that nervousness and adrenaline would get me there much faster than the elevator, and I couldn't bear to wait for it to come fetch me without doing anything else.

On my way to the stairs on the second floor, during a brief pause to catch my breath, I thought I heard her voice through the stairwell, and, even at the risk of drawing even more attention, without stopping my ascent, I began calling her name.

"Alexia! Alexia!" I started climbing the stairs to the third floor, and I also heard that the conversation I had heard earlier stopped to confirm that someone had called out to the footballer. "Alexia!"

"Mía?" Her voice, confused, resonated through the stairs.

I climbed the last flight of stairs to the third floor, surprising everyone present, of whom I only recognized Josep.

"Don't do it, Ale, please," Without thinking twice, I launched myself into her arms, pressing her body tightly against mine. Inside my body, everything was feeling it; I had finally found her, had traveled to London, and had found her. I hadn't been afraid. I wouldn't let her go again. "I quit my job." Alexia widened her eyes. "I know, I'm sorry, I know you're going to be mad, and I accept it, but I couldn't let you leave. I can't be without you. No more foolishness. Come back with me to Barcelona, please."

Her companions exchanged glances.

"We'll leave you alone," Josep finally said, encouraging the others present to follow him downstairs.

Once a few seconds passed and they moved far enough away, Alexia turned her gaze back to mine. I felt myself pale at seeing her so close again. Finally.

"Why did you quit your job?" She asked.

"Because I'm in love with you."

Her eyes sparkled, her pupils dilated, and her mouth tried to smile. Her hands tightened their grip on my body, and then her face reflected a hint of sadness. She sighed and then took my face in her hands, lovingly caressing my cheeks with both thumbs.

"I'm so sorry, Mía," she said sorrowfully. "You have no idea how much."

I blinked several times, confused.

"Why?"

"I just signed the contract."

I closed my eyes tightly upon hearing that. I hadn't made it in time. How naive I had been. My eyes welled up, and noticing it, Alexia kissed my forehead before resting my head on her right shoulder.

"What are we going to do now?" I asked, afraid of hearing the worst answer. "I can move to London." Alexia chuckled sadly. I felt her chest rise, her laughter echoed and resonated throughout her ribcage. "If you want, of course."

I inwardly prayed for the answer to be yes, that she was as crazy as I was, that she would hold me tightly and ask me never to leave again, because I would fulfill all her wishes.

"You're going to stay in Barcelona," I stopped breathing for a moment. I moved my body as little as possible from hers to be able to look her in the eyes, which were deep and locked onto mine. She smiled half-heartedly and kissed my forehead again. "It's just for a season. I'll come see you there every time I have a day off, every week. How long is it? Two hours by plane?" I could finally smile genuinely. "Do you have a place where I can stay?"

"That's going to be tricky," I smiled, biting my lower lip. "In my apartment, there's only one bed."

"Oh, damn it," she shook her head.

"I'm sure we can manage."

"We can put a pillow between us," she suggested, dangerously getting closer to my lips.

"And sleep with our backs to each other," I added, finally smashing my lips against hers.

"I'm not going to be separated from you anymore," she said against my mouth. "And I assure you that this year will prove me right."

*******************

I hope the English/Spanish thing wasn't confusing. See you all in the super last episode :)