Chapter One: Still Waters, Sparkling Surprises.

✽

Freya Kent had received her first collectible trading card in Year 5. At the time, she was a small, unassuming 11-year-old, unfortunately seated next to Robbie "Dumbface" Talbot.

Freya was the type of girl who for the most part, kept to herself. Speaking only when spoken to, reading during lunch breaks, and often being told to participate more in class. A loner, if you will. This solitary nature made her the prime candidate to be seated next to the so-called "troublemakers" in class, as teachers often believed that her quiet disposition might have a calming effect on their behavior.

One particularly dreary class period, Freya found the edge of a trading card poking at her pale winter cheeks. Robbie, the perpetrator, apparently found great joy in this, especially after receiving no reaction from her.

In a fit of genius, he decided to toss the card onto her desk. With a sharp bite to the inside of her cheek, Freya tossed it right back. Still unfazed, Robbie flung the card again, this time hitting her square in the face.

"I don't want your stupid card!" Freya remembers yelling, her frustration finally boiling over.

As a result of this outburst, Freya spent her next three lunch breaks confined to the classroom as punishment for supposedly "trading cards" and disrupting the lesson. It didn't bother her too much at the time. If it weren't for the strict rules forcing Year 1-6 students to spend their recess outside, she would've gladly spent every break indoors anyway.

What she did mind, however, was the fact that while she spent her hour inside as punishment, Robbie got to continue playing football care free with his mates.

At the time, during those lunch breaks, it had just been Freya and her dumb Patrick Vieira Arsenal trading card. A legendary player for Arsenal at the time. Despite his pleas to return it, Freya kept the card, and Vieira's face soon found a permanent home in her wallet.

Although, it was only in Year 7, by which Freya Kent had come to a stark realization: she hated football.

I know. Kent, hate, and football - a trio of words that didn't seem to belong together. But in Freya's case, they did. For as long as she could remember, football had been the dominating theme of her life, thanks to her brother, Roy Kent, who had long ago cemented his place as a football legend.

Freya had been born nearly two decades after her sister, in an era where Roy Kent was already a household name. He even had his own chant. From primary school to high school, most conversations about her ironically didn't actually revolve around her, but rather around her more socially accessible brother.

"Kent? Like the football player?" teachers would often ask during roll call, their voices laced with mordacity.

"Yes, like the football player." Freya would respond, her expression perpetually bored, her eyes dull with forced indifference.

So, if you asked her how she ended up working as a shadow journalist at a football club, she'd probably tell you to piss off.

- She'd also tell you to never take spontaneous direction decisions in hopes of finding your destination sooner.

"ARE YOU TAKING THE FUCKING PISS?!"

Freya's shout echoed through her car as she slammed her hands on the steering wheel, drawing a confused and slightly concerned look from the man in the car next to her. She responded to his gaze with a casual flick of her middle finger before glancing at the digital clock on her dashboard.

10:07.

"Oh, so you are taking the piss," she muttered sarcastically, raising her eyebrows as her lips curled in a bitter smile.

The cars in front of her had moved a total of 11cm in the last 15 minutes. And due to someone's car breaking down not too far ahead, Freya's schedule had been seemingly ruined.

Her to-do list had been simple:
1) Attend two on-campus morning classes that ran from 7:15 to 9:30.
2) Swing by Wilson's and pick up lunch for her sister.
3) Deliver the meal to Richmond Hospital in time for her sister's half-hour lunch break.
4) Make it to the football club and work to amount the generous wage she definitely shouldn't be getting. (Being a Nepo sibling had some perks).

Now, trapped in an endless line of cars, her day was unraveling before it had even properly begun.

It was her second week on the job. ―Well, technically, third week. The first week was straight forward: learn the ropes, learn the layout of the building to avoid getting lost in the future, undergoing PR training, and finally, signing contracts that outlined exactly what she could and couldn't write as AFC Richmond's official journalist. - which many would argue is not even a real position. (True).

Many would also argue that Freya was hired merely for her connections to the club. (Also true). But those claims came from outside the Club's office. God knows everyone inside is too kind, almost unnervingly so, as if working in a perfect, dystopian utopia. Freya shivered as she recalled the amount of genuine greetings she had received within her first week.

The second week she had only gone in twice. Once for a meeting with Leslie Higgins, the director of communications. They discussed the likelihood of what an upcoming bad season would look like from a media standpoint, and how to mitigate the club's public relations nightmare before it happened. (Higgins was like a hamster on a wheel - always anxious, constantly fretting, and endlessly trying to fix everything around him).

And the second time was merely so that there was a second time. It was her first big job, one that actually involved the knowledge of the course she had been taking for the last three years, how would it look if she'd only gone in once within the entire week?

(Again. Shadow Journalist? Not exactly a career-defining role.)

Which left her in week three. Her first official working week. She hadn't had a proper introduction to the team yet, but assumingly that wasn't considered a custom for staff. It had also been quite some time since she'd seen Roy, about two and a half weeks to be exact. They passed eachother on her first day as he was leaving from practice.

It took about twenty five minutes before the traffic finally started moving. Now arriving at Wilson's with only 13 minutes left, Freya quickly picked up the sub sandwich she'd pre-ordered while waiting in the traffic. The young woman mentally patted herself on the back for her quick thinking. Now, she had just enough time to make it to the hospital for the last ten minutes of her sister Rachel's lunch break.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot, Freya haphazardly slid into the first open space she could find, grabbed the heated sandwich that sat in the passenger seat and nearly forgot to turn off the engine.

With a quick "Hi" to the security, she picked up the pace, power-walking through the hospital's foyer as if she hadn't just sprinted across the parking lot. By the time she reached the front desk, Freya tried to compose herself, steadying her breath to appear calm and collected.

Rachel, standing nearby with a knowing smirk, tapped her fingers rhythmically on the secretary's desk, clearly entertained by her younger sister's flustered entrance.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late." Freya dropped the takeaway bag onto the desk before crouching over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

"Yeah. I have uh..." Rachel turned her gaze down towards the analogue clock which wrapped around her wrist, "...6 minutes to down this entire sub."

Freya gave a nonchalant shrug, still catching her breath. "Don't choke?"

"Yeah...you know what? Don't worry about it. I'll uh, see you later?"

"Can't. Working until 4. Then I have to go home and do my mandatory bed rotting routine, so. Sorry."

"Ohhhh, of course. How could I forget? Priorities. Got you." Rachel's tongue spewed it's sarcasm.

A smile fought for release on Freya's lips. She couldn't give Rachel the satisfaction.

Freya switched on her phone, glancing at the time. "And now," she added dryly, "you've got four minutes to down an entire sandwich."

Rachel lost all amusement in her face as she frantically grabbed the sandwich within the bag and started unwrapping it, hurrying to take the first bite.

Just as Freya turned to leave, Rachel, mouth half-full, made a muffled sound to get her attention.

"Do me a favor, will you?" Rachel asked, barely managing between chews.

Freya sighed, tilting her head before signaling it in the direction of Rachel's sandwich. "Another one?"

"Yes. Listen. Tell Roy that Phoebe might be a bit late, she's helping set up one of her new teacher's classrooms-decorating and that. Only got the message now. And you know how Roy is with waiting."

Freya groaned. "Why me though? You have a phone. You can text him yourself."

Rachel shot her an exasperated look. "Seriously? Is it that hard to have a two-minute conversation with your own brother?"

Freya cringed inwardly. "What?....It's not that, I'm just... busy. I've got work to do."

"You two literally work in the same building, one level apart." Rachel scoffed in amusement. "Come on, don't be a dick. It's not just about accessibility, there's like a principal to it."

"Really? What's that?" Freya was quick to clap back.

Rachel let out a sigh. The sigh that would always make Freya feel guilty. Master manipulating at its finest. "Just tell him. Please?"

The younger Kent shook her head. "Fine. Whatever." Freya muttered, rolling her eyes, arms still crossed.

"Love ya." Rachel beamed in satisfaction before taking another bite.

"Yeah, yeah, you're alright." Freya smirked as she turned and headed toward the exit.

"Oi!" Rachel's voice rang out again just as Freya reached the door.

Freya grumbled in frustration as she turned back around to face her sister. Not wanting to move back any closer, she called out from where she was instead. "What!"

"Did you take your meds?" Rachel shouted across the room, unfazed by the few people glancing their way.

"Oh my god....Yes!"

"M'kay! Just checking!"

And with that, Freya was finally able to return back to her car, and make her way to AFC Richmond's office building.

Dreadfully.

✽

Freya pulled into the parking lot of the AFC Richmond offices, finding her usual spot tucked away in the back corner. She turned off the engine, the hum of the car dying into silence, but instead of getting out, she remained in her seat, hands resting on the steering wheel. The late morning sun filtered through the windshield, warming the dashboard as she stared blankly ahead.

Her fingers drummed absentmindedly on the steering wheel, her eyes flickering between her phone screen and the AFC Richmond logo displayed on the side of the building.

The girl tried to ignore the fact that a sudden lump had formed within her throat. She hated when her body started acting up like this. She wasn't even feeling any sort of anxiety (?).

She had given herself three minutes-just three-to pull herself together. Sitting in the driver's seat, Freya's breathing slowed as she stared blankly out the windshield. She didn't mean to, but her gaze drifted toward the glove compartment. She knew what was inside: the pack of cigarettes she kept tucked away for moments exactly like this.

Her fingers twitched. Just one.

No.

Freya clenched her jaw and turned her head sharply back to the front, pushing the thought away. She had already used up her allowance for the week-one cigarette down, two left. But if she broke her own rule now, it'd spiral. She knew herself well enough to understand that. This wasn't the time.

She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head against the headrest. Three minutes. That's all she'd allowed herself. The rational part of her brain knew that stepping out of the car wouldn't magically solve anything, but there was a strange comfort in the routine. Get through the day, minute by minute, task by task.

Inhaling sharply, she forced herself to move. Her hand drifted toward the glove compartment again, but she stopped short, clenching her fist in frustration before pulling it back. The cigarettes could wait.

Three minutes were up.

"Alright, dumb-arse. Get it together." Freya's eyes remained closed as she muttered to herself.

KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!

Freya felt her soul practically leap out of her skin. Her heart pounded twice as fast as normal as she whipped her head to the side, eyes widening at the sight of a figure crouched just outside her window.

The man, brunette with light eyes and wearing a denim-style shirt, was motioning for her to roll down the window. His expression was a mix of concern and curiosity, which only made her irritation flare up even more.

Reluctantly, she rolled the window down just enough to speak, glaring at him with pure annoyance.

"What...the fuck?"

"Ah, excuse my rather strong, muscled knocks," he said with a thick French accent, smiling brightly as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "You see, I was about to walk in, as I do everyday, when suddenly I see... a pretty girl sitting in the car seat, but wait! Her eyes are closed. My first thought is: what if she's dead?"

Freya squinted her eyes and looked around see if she had been dreaming right then. She concluded that she was not.

If it was anyone else, she would've assumed they were taking the piss, but the man seemed to be genuine about his experience.

"I was just closing my eyes for two seconds," she replied bluntly, her confusion deepening.

"I think it was a bit more than two seconds," he responded, his face still plastered with that annoyingly bright smile.

Freya raised her brows, realizing the man didn't understand English exaggerations or turns of phrase. Great.

He stayed crouched by her window, his smile unwavering, while Freya shifted awkwardly in her seat. Was he going to stand there all day or?

"Oh! Where are my manners?" he suddenly exclaimed, as if just remembering them. "I am Richard. Pronounced 'Ree-shardh.'" He stuck his hand through the small opening in the window, his grin widening. "I play Centre Midfield for AFC Richmond."

Freya's eyes widened. This could not be how she met her first new season player. Sure, she knew the old players: Jaime, Bumbercatch, Colin, Isaac etc. - but this guy was indeed a new face.

Poor Richard, the man probably thought she was some burnout or a cokehead who shot up in her car during breaks.

"Right," she muttered, hesitantly shaking his hand through the window. "I'm Freya. Journalist. Not dead."

Richard laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, good! I'm glad you are not dead, Freya. That would have been very sad. And bad for the club!"

"Yeah, probably," Freya replied dryly, her sarcasm flying right over his head.

"Well, I will leave you to... not be dead," Richard said cheerfully, standing up and giving her a little wave. "I hope to see you inside, alive and well, yes?"

Freya nodded, managing a small, tight-lipped smile. "Yeah. See you inside."

As Richard sauntered off toward the entrance in a half-skip half-jog, she let out a long, exasperated breath, slumping back in her seat.

With a resigned sigh and a few minutes passed to assure she wouldn't have to encounter Richard inside, Freya grabbed her bag and finally stepped out of the car, heading toward the building. She wasn't dead-yet-but this job might just be the death of her.

✽

The lobby of the AFC Richmond offices was bustling with activity, the usual midday rush in full swing.

As she walked toward the elevators, she spotted a few familiar faces-mainly those she'd briefly encountered during her brief stint at the club. She gave polite nods and half-smiles, but made no effort to engage. Social interactions, especially with people she barely knew, were not on her list of priorities today.

The elevator ride up to her floor was mercifully short.

She made her way to her desk, which was tucked into a corner near the back of the office. It was small and modest, with a view of a brick wall that was more functional than inspiring.

She dropped her bag on the desk and sank into her chair, pulling out her laptop and flipping it open. As the screen booted up, she glanced around, taking in the hum of productivity around her.

Freya's to-do list for the day was already on her mind: finish the draft of the article about the upcoming match, review the press release for accuracy, and do all of that whilst switching between finishing the essay she has been procrastinating for the past week.

The topic she had chosen was, "The Myth of Participation Trophies: How They Ruined a Generation." (Is she wrong?).

As she started typing, her phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at the screen-it was Rachel again. Freya rolled her eyes and opened the message.

Did you tell Roy about Phoebe?
(Sent 20 minutes ago).
Helloooooooo?????

Freya sighed and quickly typed back a response.

oh my fucking god.
YES
ps. the time it took you to send that could've been used to text roy!!!!

She hit send and went back to her article. Having to fight the urge to not have a ten minute social media break.

The clock on her desk ticked steadily, and Freya focused on the task at hand. She was getting into the flow of writing when a soft knock on her cubicle wall interrupted her concentration. She looked up to see Leslie Higgins, the director of communications, peeking in with a polite smile.

"Freya," Leslie Higgins' voice chirped from her office doorway. "Got a moment?"

She closed her eyes for a beat, releasing a silent sigh. Of course. Right when the words were almost forming in her brain.

"For you, Higgins?" Freya said, swiveling in her chair with an exaggerated grin. "Always."

Higgins gave one of his signature awkward smiles as he approached her desk. "How's the article coming along?"

"Brilliantly. It's practically writing itself," Freya responded, her sarcasm sharp enough to cut glass. "Just need to wait for the muse to stop by."

Higgins chuckled nervously, looking over her shoulder at the empty document on her screen. "I see. Well, just a gentle reminder-we'll need it for Wednesday morning's press release. No rush, of course."

Freya leaned back in her chair, laughing playfully as she tried making another joke to lessen the awkwardness. "No rush? Higgins, you're hovering like I've got a bomb ticking under this desk."

His face flushed slightly. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt! I just wanted to see if you needed any help... context, maybe? Players' quotes?"

"No, I think I've got enough fluff to string together," Freya replied, still smirking. "Unless you want to give me a hot scoop about how Richmond's going to surprise everyone by... I don't know, winning?"

Higgins let out a soft chuckle but remained standing awkwardly, his fingers fidgeting with the edges of the folder he carried.

The brunette gave a side smile. "Really, dont worry about it Higgins. I'm almost done with the draft. I should have it ready for review by this afternoon."

Higgins nodded as to assure her that he did believe her. He then took to awkwardly leaning against the door frame, and fidgeting with his blazer's sleeve button. Freya noticed he hadn't made any motion to leave, even though the usual polite interrogation about the article was over.

Her eyebrow lifted. "Something else plaguing your mind, Leslie?"

He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting around as if someone might overhear them in the nearly empty office. "Well..." he started cautiously, leaning a little closer, "I, uh, was wondering if you'd heard... anything about Rebecca's ex-husband."

Freya's interest piqued, but she kept her expression flat, knowing full well where this was going. "Oh, Rupert?" she said, pretending to be casual. "What's the slimy bastard done now?"

Higgins winced at her bluntness but pressed on. "Well... apparently, there's been some new... photos."

Freya squinted, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Ah, let me guess. Rupert's been spotted with yet another woman? How utterly shocking. The man's practically a walking tabloid by now."

Higgins nodded quickly, his face reddening slightly. "Yes, well... this time it's been all over the papers. Rebecca's a bit on edge, understandably, but we haven't discussed it here."

Freya let out a long sigh, leaning forward on her desk, arms crossed. "God, can't that man just stay out of the news for five minutes? Or better yet, another woman's legs?"

Higgins looked almost relieved that Freya wasn't dismissing the gossip outright. "It's not really my place to say anything, but Rebecca's....had a rough morning. I think everyone's trying to give her space."

"I don't blame her," Freya said, her sarcasm softening for a moment. "She's got enough on her plate without that circus of an ex-husband parading around with his latest arm candy."

Higgins nodded again but didn't leave. He just stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Freya narrowed her eyes, leaning back. "Higgins, why do I feel like you're waiting for me to say something that makes this less awkward?"

He blinked, taken aback. "Oh, no! No, no. I-uh-I just wanted to... you know, check in. Make sure you're doing okay... with the article."

"I'm great, Higgins," Freya said, dragging out the words with a deadpan expression. "Thanks for the concern. The article will be done, I promise. I'll even throw in some football puns, if that's what you're worried about."

He smiled nervously again. "Right, right! I'll leave you to it, then."

But as he turned to leave, Freya couldn't resist throwing one last remark over her shoulder. "Hey, Higgins?"

He paused, glancing back at her.

"If Rupert happens to show up in a tuxedo with a supermodel on his arm next week, or ever, just make sure I'm not around. I've got a strict no-philanderer-men policy these days."

Higgins laughed nervously, nodded, and quickly shuffled out of her office, leaving Freya to smirk at her own wit.

✽

Freya had been hammering away at her laptop for what felt like an eternity (an hour), her fingers moving mechanically over the keys as she tried to finish up her article. As much as she tried to focus on the words she needed to finish for the article, her mind was sluggish, weighed down by the lingering frustration from the morning and a strange sense of restlessness.

Is this it? The sudden thought came crashing into Freya's conscious. I write for a football club I don't even like, spend hours staring at a screen, and my only excitement is when I get to go home and roleplay a corpse?

She sighed, pushing her chair back from her desk to stand up. Her arms lifted high as she let out a well needed yawn. Her legs needed a good stretch too, but more importantly, she needed water. She hadn't had anything to drink since her coffee earlier, and it was starting to catch up with her. She rubbed her eyes, cracked her knuckles, and made her way over to the water dispensers that stood near the corner of the office, one of the few places in the building that wasn't constantly filled with bustling people.

As she approached, she didn't even glance at the labels on the two water tanks-one for sparkling, one for still-her brain too fried to process anything other than "drink water, keep functioning." She grabbed a cup, filled it from the nearest dispenser, and took a deep gulp.

Immediately, her face twisted in disgust.

"What the-?" Her eyes widened in horror as the sharp fizz of the sparkling water hit her tongue. Freya gagged, sputtering in disgust as the fizzy liquid hit the back of her throat. She spat some of it back into the cup, coughing violently as the unexpected carbonation hit her system like a brick. She looked at the cup in horror. "What kind of posh bullshit-"

A soft chuckle sounded from behind her, and Freya nearly jumped. She hadn't noticed someone standing by the other dispenser. Turning her head, she locked eyes with a man, tall and athletic, with a friendly smile on his face.

He was holding a cup of water in his hand, the normal kind, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Let me guess-sparkling water?" he said, his voice warm, with a slight Nigerian accent that softened the edges of his words.

Freya raised a brow, still wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Oh, you think?" she said dryly, sarcasm dripping from every word.

The man laughed with a wide smile, clearly not offended by her tone. "You're not the first to make that mistake," he said. "I've seen it happen more times than I can count."

Freya turned, her gaze landing on the small, barely noticeable labels on each dispenser. One said Still, and the other Sparkling. She groaned inwardly. Of course, she'd pick the wrong one. Of course, she'd have to embarrass herself right when she was trying to keep a low profile.

"Well," she muttered, wiping her mouth again with the back of her sleeve, "that's great. Now I know how to ruin my day even more efficiently."

He smiled wider, clearly entertained by her bluntness. "At least you didn't spit it on anyone. That would've been awkward."

Freya cracked a small, reluctant smile. "Yeah, I'll take that as a win."

The man took a sip of his water, then casually introduced himself. "I'm Sam, by the way."

Freya eyed him for a moment, debating whether she wanted to engage further. She had too much on her plate to start making new friends, but there was something disarming about his energy. He didn't seem put off by her demeanour.

"Freya." she replied, lifting her now-empty cup in a mock toast before crumpling it and tossing it into the bin.

They stood in comfortable silence for a second, and Freya couldn't shake the feeling that he seemed...familiar. She dismissed it quickly, chalking it up to the fact that she was meeting a lot of new faces around here.

The girl gestured towards the still water dispenser, "I'll stick to this side from now on."

Sam chuckled. "Good choice."

There was a brief pause, the two of them standing in comfortable silence. As the next second or two passed, Freya desperately tried to place where she might've seen him before. Must be another staff member, she thought. The club was crawling with new faces all the time.

"Well," she said, clearing her throat and gesturing toward the hallway, "I should probably get back to work. Thanks for not laughing too hard at my expense though."

"Anytime," Sam replied, still smiling warmly. "Welcome to AFC Richmond, by the way."

Freya gave a small nod and headed back to her desk, still feeling the odd tingle of embarrassment and something else that Freya couldn't quite put a finger on.

If she had to verbalize it however, let's just say it wouldn't be that bad if she bumped into Sam again.

Accidently, of course.

✽

The time read: 2:55.

Freya worked for another hour and a half before deciding to call it a day. Well, at least, a working day. She'd linger around for the rest of the next hour so that she could tell Rachel that she did indeed only clock out at 4 like she said she would.

Suddenly a sharp and painfully annoying reminder came back to her.

She still had to tell Roy.

Great.

She wasn't very eager for the encounter, but the longer she put it off, the worse it would be.

Freya made her way through the AFC Richmond hallways, passing by a few players who were heading out to the pitch for practice who all nodded in her direvtion. The smell of grass and sweat wafted through the halls as she approached. Freya scrunched her nose.

The locker room door was slightly ajar, and just as she rather midlessly stepped through, the voice of one familiar Mancunian echoed through the space.

Freya didn't second guess herself, that much cockiness could only be sourced from the one and only Jamie fucking Tartt.

Freya stepped into sight, although the players sitting around the room, having just finished practice, were more interested in their current conversations.

"Oi, what's that? Another press stunt?"

Freya rolled her eyes before even laying eyes on him. Sure enough, Jaime Tartt was leaning back in his seat right next to the door, his smug grin plastered across his face as the other players lounged around.

After Jaime spoke, it's as if everyone stopped whatever they were doing to see who he was interacting with.

"Oh, brilliant, Tartt," Freya replied dryly, "because you clearly know all about publicity, don't you?"

The room broke into scattered chuckles, and Jaime's grin faltered only slightly. He pointed at her as if she was a toddler. "Careful now, Rey. Don't forget the absolute legend you're talking to."

Freya cringed at the nickname.

She then stood straight gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir, Jamie Tartt, international football superstar, reigning king of hubris. How could I ever forget?"

Jaime squinted at her, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. It was clear he was trying to think of a quick-witted reply but nothing was popping up. "At least....people know who I am."

Freya smirked. "And yet...no one can seem to stand you. Funny, that."

Colin, seated a few lockers away, laughed loudly. "She's got a point, mate."

Freya turned to the man who spoke out in her defence and nodded, greeting him.

Bumbercatch leaned forward, curiosity written all over his face. "What's this about?"

Freya sighed, trying to divert the attention. "It's nothing. Just the usual Tartt nonsense."

Jaime huffed but didn't push further, clearly deciding it wasn't worth the effort today. Freya couldn't help but feel a little victorious as she turned her attention to the rest of the locker room. She'd already met most of the team - but she was still adjusting to the chaotic energy that came with being in the same vicinity as an entire men's football team daily.

In the corner of her eye she could see two figures coming in from the back entrance that led out to the pitch.

Just as the girl looked to see who the incoming duo was, the locker room door creaked open again, and none other than Roy Kent stepped in, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. The room fell silent as he walked toward his locker, giving Freya a brief, much softer glance before turning to go to his locker.

Freya noticed the shift in the room. She knew, despite Roy being the captain, he wasn't necessarily the most soft natured individual. Especially with the amount of losses they've had in the last season, not to mention the strain of Roy's growing age. Still, Freya couldn't help but find herself holding in a chuckle at the sight of grown men growing quiet in his presence.

She cleared her throat. "Roy," Freya said as she approached, to which her brother turned around.

"Freya. Hi." Roy greeted. He half turned back around as he continued to pack some of the things in his locker, into his bag.

"Hey." Freya replied, lips tight knitted.

A moment passed.

Roy now fully turned back to Freya as he zipped his bag, a bit confused by his sister's out-of-the-blue approach. "...Anything you wanted to talk about in particular?"

"-Oh yeah. Crap," The reminder of why she was even in this horrible scented room came back to her.

"Um. Rachel told me to tell you that Phoebe's gonna be late," Freya nodded. "She's helping out with her teacher's classroom or whatever."

Roy rolled his eyes and softly groaned. "I hate waiting."

A smile tugged at Freya's lips along with an unexpected snicker. "I know."

Then, something even weirder happened. Roy matched her expression with a...not grumpy look?

That was probably the biggest bonding experience they've had in the last 5 months.

"So yeah. Just wait in the car a bit longer. Shouldn't take that long anyway. Fifteen minutes at most."

"Noted."

Freya shifted on her feet, her eyes darting around as her eyes accidently caught Jaime's again. He winked. A disgusted expression appeared on Freya's face. Like, genuine discomfort. Roy, unaware, cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice softer than usual.

"Have you, uh, taken your meds today?" he asked, trying to make casual conversation.

Freya blinked, caught off guard. "What is it with you and Rachel constantly asking me that?" she muttered under her breath.

Roy shrugged, "Just... making sure."

Freya tilted her head, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I took them. You don't have to check in on me like I'm a toddler."

Roy gave a curt nod, still unsure of how to navigate the conversation. Before the moment could progress, Jaime interjected.

"Look at this, Kent, a real family bonding moment. Warms me heart." The gel haired man on the other end of the room placed a hand on his heart as he spoke.

Freya turned, shooting Jaime a glare. "Tartt, I swear-"

"Shut it, Tartt," Roy growled simultaneously.

Jaime raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, calm down. Dont suck my blood or whatever family traditions you lot do."

Freya simply flipped the man off (a gesture she's rather infamous for), before turning to leave, when a painfully familiar voice called out from behind her.

"Ah, Sparkling Water girl makes an appearance?"

Freya froze, her eyes widening. A wave of shock was sent through her body. She closed her eyes for a second before readjusting to look less....expressive?

Freya finally turned around, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise as she saw Sam approaching, still grinning that easy, warm smile. Standing now just in front of the brunette woman, was none other than Sam Obisanya. Yes. The same Sam she had met earlier.

He wore the same kit as the others. And that's when it clicked.

Cut to a flashback of about a month ago. Roy had come over for breakfast at Rachel's. She had insisted they had a family get together since it was one of her few days off. (Is it really a family gathering if said family is just two 30+ working citizens, a struggling college student and their blissfully unaware seven year old daughter/niece?)

Anyways. Freya had gotten up to attempt to scrape off the burnt parts of her toast into the sink, meanwhile unconsciously still tuning in to Roy and Rachel's conversation.

There's been a new signing. Some international player. Nigerian I think. Sam....O-Obisanya? Whatever. Let's just hope he can help us actually make the premiere league.

Freya suddenly recalls Roy's voice.

Well shit.

Freya opened her mouth to speak, but found the sudden eyes on her overwhelming.

"You?" Freya said, pointing a finger at him in disbelief. She felt a bit more calm, not because there were less eyes on her (one being the gaze of a very confused Roy), but because given the proximity and the small chatters around them, no one but the two of them could hear the conversation.

Sam chuckled, looking down as he shifted his weight to the other leg. "Yes, me."

Freya blinked, momentarily still caught within her train of thought. "-Oh, sorry. Excuse me. Uh, hi."

Sam's grin widened. "Hi again. I didn't expect to see you here. You seemed surprised."

"I was." Freya bluntly replied.

Another chuckle. "I didn't get to tell you earlier-I play for Richmond."

"And here I thought you were just a very built finance manager." Freya, unconsciously, scanned the man in front of her.

Just before Sam could respond with the same matched dry humour, Roy cut in with his usual gruffness, "What the fuck is going on here?"

Sam gave him a friendly nod. "Oh captain. Just saying hello to Ms Freya."

Roy frowned before shaking his head. "Why?"

Freya gave Roy a look. The same look Rachel would give him when he'd swear in front of Phoebe. A 'Shut up' look.

"We are just bonding over our shared hate for sparkling water, captain."

Roy thought for a moment, then came to logical conclusion that sparkling water must be some new slang the young ones are using these days. "Right. Crack on then."

Freya snickered as she watched Roy turn to leave. Turning back, she was faced with a rather confused Sam.

"You two...know eachother?" Sam, who clearly didn't yet gain the information from the others yet, asked genuinely.

Freya replied amused. "Yeah something like that. Grew up with eachother."

Sam stood with the same expression as before. Now it was much harder for Freya to hold her smile from showing. (Jesus, she smiled like what, 5 times today? Her face was starting to hurt.)

"We're siblings, Sam." Freya chuckled, which was followed by a, "Ohhhhhh." From Sam. Which was then again followed by a second rendition of the word, but this time sounded much more like a fearful revelation, "Oh."

"Don't worry. I still get the shivers when I think about it too."

He laughed.

"I'm glad we've bumped into eachother again, though. Otherwise you would have stayed as the sparkling water girl in my mind forever."

"You're really not going to let that go, are you?" she asked, folding her arms.

Sam shook his head, his grin never wavering. "No, I don't think so."

Freya let out a dramatic sigh. "Great. Just what I needed this week. A scandal following me around."

Sam chuckled, stepping closer. "Well, if it helps, I'm sure there are worse things to be known for."

Freya raised an eyebrow. "Like?"

Sam pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm. Being caught talking to yourself in an empty room? Or spilling coffee all over your boss?"

Freya smirked. "Yeah, well, I'm not planning on either of those anytime soon."

They exchanged a glance, and for a moment, Freya felt a strange sense of ease around Sam-something she wasn't used to feeling with people other than like, Phoebe (God, that's sad).

"Good to know," Sam said, his voice warm and sincere.

Jaime Tartt, who had very obviously been attempting to eavesdrop the conversation finally took the opportunity to interrupt.

Standing up, the half naked man walked towards the pair and wrapped his arms around both of them.

Freya immediately threw his arm off of her. "Jaime, do that again, and you won't have a left arm anymore."

Jaime took no mind to Freya. Instead he just continued on.

"What's this I'm hearing about sparkling water?"

Freya rolled her eyes. "Calm down detective div dick, it's just something to do with the water cooler."

"Nah...." Jaime tilted his head. "You two have been talking like you've known eachother for years."

Jaime raised his voice at the last part, and of course everyone in the room turned their attention once again to the now trio in front.

The locker room buzzed with surprise. Colin looked at Freya with newfound curiosity. "Sam has met Roy's sister?"

Bumbercatch leaned forward, curiosity written all over his face. "How did that happen?"

Freya felt a mix of embarrassment and irritation as the focus shifted to her. "It's really not that interesting," she said quickly, hoping to deflect attention.

"Yeah, sure," Jaime teased. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?"

Sam, still smiling, shook his head. "Freya here had a memorable encounter with the infamous water dispenser. It was sparkling water. She didn't expect it."

A series of "Ohhhhhhs" could be heard across the room as if suddenly everyone understood perfectly. Freya was taken aback.

"Told you. Common mistake." Sam shrugged towards the woman.

Freya shot Sam a glance. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the reminder."

After a moment or two, Freya noticed the time on the clock which hung above one of the lockers.

3:49.

Sam noticed her line of vision and followed it.

"Well, as much as this interaction-" Freya paused, motioning her hand in a circle as to refer to the room full of men, "has been....interesting. I must say the level of testosterone is becoming quite suffocating. On that note, I bid you all farewell."
A series of goodbyes and half scoffs are heard all around the room.

Particularly one that sticks out. "Goodbye not dead girl!"

The room went quiet again. Her eyes landed on the same brunette from this morning. He sat in the corner of the locker room and had fully changed, looking as if he hadn't even practiced at all. (Freya would be lying if she said he wasn't objectively good looking).

A confused expression washed over Isaac. "What?"

Freya didn't have time for another intervention about another embarrassing incident. Instead she turned on the heels of her Doc Martens, and hurried towards the door before any further interrogative questions could be asked.

She gave Sam a nod on her way out.

As she took the first step out the door, the sound of footsteps scrambling after her echoed.

Freya stopped and sighed in the middle of the hallway before abruptly stopping. "Tartt. What the fuck do you want now?"

Jaime Tartt, who clearly still had unfinished topics of conversation sidled up next to her with that signature cocky grin. "Oi, word has it that Rebecca- Ms Welton, hired you to work here, at the AFC Richmond club?"

"Yes. That's right. Anything else? Or do you plan on following me home as well?"

"Ms Welton doesn't just hire anyone. You must be special innit?"

Freya shot him a withering look. "You're special, Jaime. Just not in the way you think."

"You know one day, Freya, when I'm finally moved back to an actually good team, a team who's name is gonna be top 3 in the table, you're gonna wish you were nicer with me." Jaime cockily painted a picture.

"Wait, I don't follow, who are we talking about again?" Freya tried to make the question sound as genuine as she could to frustrate Jaime. It doesn't take much to trick the man. Must be all the gel getting to his brain cells.

"Me? Jamie Tartt? The best Tartt to ever grace the public eye?"

"I think you're getting confused with your sister, mate. Don't stress it happens." Freya watched as Jaime's expression dropped. She patted him on the shoulder and took off before he could say another word.

The brunette made her way to back to her desk, collecting her bags and items.

As she finally stepped out of the office building and into the parking lot, the young Kent couldn't help but smile to herself. Could be worse, she thought. Could be a lot worse.

A/N: Absolute horror chapter but we move. Trying to work on balancing my dialogue to non-dialogue ratio as I go on. I always feel like I'm rushing scenes so please lmk if it feels like that.

Anyways as you've read, this chapter is pre beginning of the series. Next chapter, Freya finds out about Rebecca firing the old coach and then deciding to hire Ted. We also see her interact with Keeley!!!! End of second chapter/third chapter is when I'll start writing off from the show. Don't forget to vote x

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