The next few days are pretty quiet, since Leah and Fleur are both preparing for the Euros.

When I do hear from Leah, she is texting me from her bathroom floor, too tired to speak on the phone. Ever since I saw her a few days ago, I've wanted to hear her voice again, but tonight won't be that night.

OTWN: I'm worried I won't be able to play. Sarina says that we can wait it out.

Their first match is in two days, and Leah's period came three days ago. The flare up was manageable at first, but is now far too much for her to handle. Unlike what happened when Jackie got injured, I am barred from training, and so I accept the fact that I am feeling the urge to call Marcus and drive to St. George's Park immediately. I will not act on it, but it's there.

Me: Fleur has really bad periods too

Leah admires my sister, as most footballers seem to do. I figure this will comfort her.

Me: I know it's really shit rn but u will play every minute of that tournament. U bleed England

I can almost hear her soft laughter, feel the warmth of her body beside me in my hotel bed. Tomorrow, I am checking out and going to Fleur's place, where I can stay for free in an empty flat. There is more privacy, which is needed because some are worrying that I will drop out of the top ten if I do not make a speedy recovery. Cameras seem to be following me around.

OTWN: How's ur hamstring? I'm sorry u had to retire

Me: One week recovery. I'll be fine for the Swiss

OTWN: When do u fly away from me?

Her text is more desperate than the boundary set in place allows, but I let her off because she is in pain and I want to help her.

Me: Late on the 9th so I can watch F's first game live

I already know what she's going to type, and have decided on my answer before I receive her next message.

OTWN: Have u been to Manchester before? Our game is on the 6th

Me: Can I bring Noa?

OTWN: Only if u stay and talk to me after.

Lize is very suspicious when I suggest stealing her daughter for a day. Whisking her off to Manchester has a few safety risks. I advertise it to her as an opportunity for Finn to take her on a date, but that doesn't fool her. She wants to know who I'm going to see, but makes her first mistake by quizzing me on the Austrian players. Why would I ever be in contact with a Lioness?

Though I was sure she would in the end, Lize cannot resist Noa's pleading, and acquiesces on the basis that I babysit for the whole night. It is an easy term to agree to, and Noa soon finds herself strapped into the back of Marcus' Range Rover, on her way to the opener of the women's European Championship 2022.

Our tickets are in the friends and family section, but it is full enough for us to go mostly unnoticed. People coo at Noa's shirt, finding the way it drowns her little body in an uncomfortably English shade of orange (how they managed to butcher the colour orange is a mystery). They must assume we are somebody's wife and daughter, but, as Noa babbles rapidly to me in Dutch, nobody tries to start a conversation with us.

Relieved at a successful undercover mission, Noa and I take our seats. She is very excited for the match to begin, practically vibrating. Her hands wave up and down as the players come out to warm up, and she screeches Leah's name as if she is going to hear her over the noise of the stadium. The woman beside us laughs.

When I look at her, her expression changes in alarm. "Leah's my daughter," she hastily explains, fondness seeping into her tone despite the speed at which she spoke. These tickets must be grouped by player. And this is Amanda. "You look really familiar."

"I play tennis," I reply, smiling. I hope she doesn't ask any other questions. Like who I'm here to see. I know that I don't look like an England fan, but Noa passes well enough. What if I just really loved watching the game? I could pretend to be a fanatic of the sport. She's not going to ask that anyway.

"So, who are you here to see?"

Yeah, I shouldn't have been that optimistic.

It is then that Noa pipes up, most-likely growing bored of the team's steely focus on the game and not on her. The minute she opens her mouth, I pray that she does not know a lot of English. "Leah, friend. Jaimie." She knows enough. Her mother is an English teacher.

Amanda takes a moment to process, probably attempting to cut away the Dutch accent and the noise so she can unscramble what exactly was said. It is evident that she has understood when her face breaks out into a grin, eyebrows raised in what looks like disbelief. "You're Jaimie?" Oh. Has Leah told her something? "I'm Mandy! You, my lovely, are the reason my daughter won't stop staring at her phone. The girl is smitten."

I want to protest, but I am sitting in a seat reserved for two things I am definitely not, watching her play a game that can only serve me the purpose of scoping out Fleur's competition. Even if I were to support another team in this competition, it wouldn't be England. Except Leah plays for England. And I like Leah.

Do I like Leah?

"You must be very proud of your daughter," I reply neutrally.

"That she has managed to interest a girl like you? It's a bloody miracle. Her captaining England was bound to happen." The latter is waved off with a shrug. Leah must be a great leader.

Do I like Leah?

We nearly kissed. The first night I met her, I would have let her kiss me if not for Scarlett interrupting us at a crucial moment. And she's been here for two months, never leaving my text unanswered for more than twenty minutes, always a comforting thought somewhere in my mind. And she's nice. Kind. Thoughtful.

I like the way Leah smiles, and how she will ask me if anything is wrong even if she is the one caught in a tornado. I like her hair and her eyes and the crinkle of her forehead when she thinks. Her voice in the morning, I like that too. And when she is about to go to sleep but doesn't want to stop talking, she slows down her response time and types with so many mistakes that it begins to look like Dutch. I like that.

Fuck, maybe I like Leah?

Noa tugs me upwards as the national anthems are sung, mouthing the words to the English one for some reason that I will be uncovering in conversation with her mother tomorrow. The stadium is so loud, and Leah has tears in her eyes as she sings. She is looking up at the sky, its dark blue hanging over us. I stare at her, and she is suddenly staring back.

"You came," she mouths, even if there are five cameras trained on her face at all times. I nod back, and, if I squint, I think I can see her smile widen.

Noa cheers for Leah the whole first half. She follows along with the English words, mimicking the sounds. When it's halftime and we are waiting in the queue for the bathroom, I catch sight of Scarlett's mum, Nicola, talking with Amanda and a few other women. It makes sense; Scarlett and Leah are best friends.

"Jaimie!" Nicola waves at me, walking over to where we're standing. "Are you watching for Fleur? Scar's been trying to convince me to go to the Netherlands game for her." They love each other so much that it is genuinely repulsing. "How's Wimbledon going?"

Scarlett's mum has met me on a few occasions, and though she knows nothing about tennis, she still tries to make an effort to ask. She is a very understanding woman.

"This is Noa." I nudge her forward. "She's a Leah Williamson fan. And I was out in the third round because my hamstring got fucked up."

Her face falls with disappointment for me. "I'm sure it'll be fine, babs. Nothing some ice can't fix." Then, she proceeds to chat to Noa (though her accent makes it difficult for Noa to comprehend a language she can't really speak) for the time we spend in the queue, only leaving us when there is a cubicle free.

The second half is when I get a little bored. England's early goal, scored by Beth Mead, left the stadium anticipating more, but nothing seems to come. I'm exhausted from the tour (I'm always exhausted from the tour) and Noa has calmed down enough to sit in my lap and be cuddly. She still chants Leah's name, but it's quieter. She's tired too.

While the England fans celebrate their ideal start to the Euros, Noa and I make our way to where the players' families are gathering. Sarina knows who I am through Fleur and general sports events in the Netherlands, but when she sees me she asks no questions. I know that there have been a few cameras on me the whole time I've been here, but the media will most-likely say I am occupying myself before heading out to Switzerland. No better entertainment than the Euros, right?

Leah's stony expression – her concentration face – softens quickly at the sight of Noa in my arms. Most people have left the stadium by now and the families have gone to get celebratory drinks or something similar, so it is just Leah, Noa, and I. Pretty much.

"Hey," she says, voice quiet in order to keep the toddler calm. It feels extremely domestic. I hate it. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Eh," I reply, smirking at the indignation that quickly takes over her face. "Noa, dit is Leah." I shake her gently, rousing her from her half-asleep state. She bolts upright, head almost slamming into my chin.

"Waar? Ik wil Leah zien."

"Ja, ze is hier." Leah taps her shoulder. "Say hello, liefje." I sit her on the barrier, her legs kicking out in excitement as Leah beams at her.

"Hello," she squeals, so high-pitched that I'm sure a few dogs will be whining in Manchester. "Jaimie, het is Leah!" She points to the captain repeatedly, as if I can't see her.

"Hoi, Noa." I raise my eyebrows at her. Someone has obviously been practising. The image of Leah on Duolingo pops into my mind, making me laugh as she tries to converse with a now-hyper three-year-old who doesn't speak a lot of English.

They come to the agreement somehow that Noa is going to be passed over to Leah to stand on the pitch. Leah asks me to jump over the barrier, but I remind her of my injury. I tell her to go without me, but accidentally leave myself exposed to two women who have come out of the tunnel to find their captain.

The first is Scarlett, whose eyes widen as she points between Leah and me, hand slapped to her mouth in shock. She staggers her way to where I am standing, and shouts 'what the fuck' so loudly that it echoes through the empty Old Trafford.

"Does Fleur know?"

"There's nothing to know about," I answer, standing firm on this stubborn hill. Scarlett looks sceptical, glancing at where Leah and Noa are having some kind of rigged 1-v-1. "Noa is a big fan, and I had the means to make her dream come true."

"Stop waffling, Jaimie." She rolls her eyes at me. "You're clearly... involved. I won't tell Fleur if you're keeping it quiet. I doubt she'd be happy."

Fleur is opinionated, even if she doesn't share what she thinks most of the time. She must be holding a grudge for Leah, or just doesn't like her because she plays for the rival team. Sscarlett doesn't seem to mix her closest friends with her girlfriend, though I'm not quite sure why.

"What do you mean 'clearly'?" I whisper curiously. I am still undecided on how I feel about her, but maybe knowing how she feels about me will help. I'm not sure how. I don't think I'm looking for a relationship.

"Well," Scarlett says, gesturing wildly with her hands, "she's been happier recently and you've let your cousin's kid wear an England top that's coincidentally hers. You do realise that nobody else is still here apart from you? Look, Sarina's even come out to check if Leah's alive."

We turn to their coach, who is watching Leah play with Noa just like we were doing a moment ago. Sarina gives me a wave, and approaches us, asking me whether I enjoyed the game in Dutch. I suppose she is relieved to have someone to talk to in her native language.

I think I'm in the clear prematurely, having hoped she would stick to small-talk. "Is zij je vriendin?"

"Nee," I reply.

She presses her lips together, crossing her arms. "Not yet, you mean."

notes:

is sarina right do we think?

translation time!

Waar? Ik wil Leah zien = where? I want to see Leah

ze is hier = she's here

Is zij je vriendin? = is she your girlfriend?

nee = no

thanks for reading!!