We sit on the floor, backs to the wall, both out of breath. Leah has pulled her shorts back on, and I have done up my jeans again, so now there is nothing to do but spend a minute with my head on her chest, relishing in being in each other's physical company for once.

"How's your calf?" she asks after a moment, sounding as exhausted as I feel. "Mum brought you here, right? And you're making sure to rest? It's so shitty that you're injured. I know that you're pissed off about it."

"Everything is fine, Lee. My physio is set up for me in London, and Marcus is going to drive me around to my heart's content." Her thumb swipes across my cheek gently, and then her fingers rake through my hair, detangling it after she caused it to look so messy.

"After this is done and you're staying with me, I'll drive you around." She sounds jealous of poor Marcus. "And you can come to my games if you want. I want you to. I want everyone to know that you're mine."

Someone calls for Leah, the voice sounding uncomfortably nearby. "You need to go, and I need to call a taxi. Amanda went back to your cousin's house. I told her I was fine to go back on my own." She leans down to press a soft kiss to my lips, smiling. Despite the setting, this feels oddly domestic.

"You know, I'll never feel the same about Stadium MK after this," she mutters, fingers ghosting the purpling mark on my collarbone that will cause me to opt for turtlenecks for the next week. Someone shouts her name again, this time right outside the door. "Yeah, I'm coming, Luce. Hold on!"

"Are you doing some weird meditation thing?" asks the woman, knocking on the door, pinpointing our location. I laugh quietly, but I think she hears. "Who're you with?"

"Go away. I'll be there in a minute." Leah shakes her head fondly. "I'll see you in Coventry, right? You got the tickets I sent you?" The family and friends section for both remaining England matches. Unfortunately, I have had to choose Fleur's ticket over hers for the final match in Bristol, knowing that things would be far too obvious if I sat with the England fans in front of my sister. She deserves to hear it from me, first.

The woman outside bangs on the door once more. "Fucking hell, Leah. Quit talking to your secret girlfriend. I'll close my eyes."

"Come on," I urge, standing up while trying to keep the weight off my bad leg. She frowns and quickly surges upwards, helping me right myself. "See you in three days."

Leah wraps her arms around my waist, groaning. "That's so long. I could sneak you into camp. Or just get a room at our hotel. Please, I don't think I can survive knowing you're in the same country and not with me."

"Leah!" I think it might be Lucy Bronze. I push her off me.

"Babe, go." I give her a little shove towards the door, and she opens it with a glum look, slipping out before Lucy Bronze can see me. I'm grateful for that, because I definitely look like I have been dragged through a hedge backwards, and am in need of sorting myself out before I find a way to escape the stadium and get back to Newport Pagnell.

━━━━━━━

The next day consists of a morning of physiotherapy which leaves me in need of a nap before Amanda takes me along to lunch with some more of Leah's family. It seems as though I am meeting everybody over the course of this week, but it is not as bad as it could have been, because most of them really like me. I'm grateful for that.

Amanda leaves me to it after we come back, though she tells me that she is pleased somebody like me is dating her daughter in the car ride back to their house. I blush and she calls me sweet. It makes it hard for me to concentrate on reading through my emails from Charley about more brand deals and interviews and other things I really can't be bothered with. I force myself to because of the amount of prize money I will be losing out on for the next three months – I have to pay my team somehow.

For an early dinner, Marcus takes me back to London to meet Leah, who convinced me to meet her for food after I texted her in my vulnerable, post-physio agony earlier on. Sarina is being lenient with her considering how close to Scarlett's death this camp is, and how much stress it is causing for Leah on top of her being the team's captain. She meets me at five o'clock in some casual-but-nice restaurant in the centre. Apparently, it is quite popular with the footballers of the WSL, though most of them will be in their own national camps and so won't be crashing our impromptu date.

We are halfway through our meal when two women walk in, both looking confused at how busy the restaurant is at this hour. Then, they catch sight of Leah and I. Leah is sat next to me in our booth because three days really was too long for her to even think about. Eyes zoom in on us. I recognise the blonde of the two. Fleur's teammate. Mapi León.

They approach us, Mapi dragging the other girl along, excited enough for the both of them. "Nice to meet you," Mapi says with a grin, a glint in her eyes as she takes in Leah's hand on my thigh. "I am Mapi, player for Barcelona. This is Leila." She gestures at the woman behind her. "Player for Manchester City."

"Hi, Leila," Leah greets, cheeks red as she retracts her hand, keeping it by her side. "Hola, Mapi." Footballers always know each other. But I have an inkling that it is not Leah who Mapi is interested in speaking to tonight.

"Hello, Leah," replies Leila. "Nice game yesterday."

"Hola, Leah. Jaimie, Fleur does not want to tell me when her free day is." I raise my eyebrows; of course she doesn't. That girl is probably allergic to making friends. "Do you know when it is?"

Wanting to be left alone again, I picture the camp schedule she sent me. "It's the 20th, I think. The day after they play in Coventry. Why?" Mapi only smirks and glances at Leila, who is beginning to look very uncomfortable. She thanks me and then her and Leila sit down at their own table, far enough away for Leah's hand to go back to its natural resting place and for us to continue our low-key meal.

Forgetting about that weird interaction, we enjoy our dinner and are dramatic about the goodbye, and I am back in Newport Pagnell for eight o'clock. Amanda and I settle on the sofa to watch Gogglebox while she finishes off some leftovers from the fridge. I don't quite understand the concept of watching people on TV watch TV, but Amanda finds it funny and so I try hard to pay attention.

"You alright there, Jaimie?" she asks, the episode now finished. She must think I am very quiet. In reality, I am still tired. And I'm jet-lagged.

I nod, swallowing my mouthful of noodles, having been a bit peckish after dinner anyway. "Yeah, I just don't get it. They are just watching TV?" She clicks off the app and opens Netflix.

"It's their reactions that people find funny," Amanda explains, smiling at my confusion. "It's kind of like commentary. Imagine if it was just the football game in front of you. It wouldn't be as entertaining."

"Fleur has her own commentary when she watches football," I tell Amanda, knowing that Leah is the same. "It has to be a footballer thing. I have never watched a tennis match and felt the need to talk the whole time."

Taking the plates to the kitchen, we both clean up a little, though I am told to sit down the minute Amanda remembers why Leah has placed me under her mother's care and forbidden me from staying in a hotel. "Ice cream?" She holds up a tub of vanilla and some sprinkles. "I hope you aren't on one of those evil nutrition plans. Leah's always getting into trouble for not doing them, but it's my fault, really. You guys do enough exercise to eat pizza every once in a while."

Laughing, I reply, "not at the moment," because those plans only get drawn up when I am actually playing. The general consensus for the period of my injury is that I should be eating healthily and exercising as instructed by my physio, but my nutritionist knows I am not in the mood to cut chocolate out of my diet. "I'd love some ice cream, thank you."

"So I heard that you played football?" Amanda pries gently, handing me a bowl with two scoops of ice cream and a spoon to eat it with. "Add as many sprinkles as you'd like, by the way." I look at the tub and reassure myself that it does not matter. "Your sister is amazing. I love watching her play."

"I used to when I was little, and Fleur played tennis, too. How come you watch her games?" It is genuinely difficult for me to wrap my head around Fleur being more than the little girl who used to practise wheelies on her bike endlessly simply because I could do them.

"We're quite big Fleur de Voss fans in the house, actually. Leah probably hasn't told you. Typical." I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. "She was so excited when Scarlett started dating her – you'd have thought her friend had begun to go out with Idris Elba!" I don't mention that my sister finds the England captain a little bit annoying, holding onto a grudge from a bad tackle from ages ago. Instead, I tell Amanda that Fleur is really not all that, which makes her laugh and say she expects me to say nothing less. "She could be the best in the world, but to you she'll always be the little squirt who was born after you. Jacob's a bit like that with Leah. He can't quite grasp that his older sister is a pro."

"It's weird to think about," I agree.

"Your parents must be so proud of you two, though." Debatable. "Of course, I'm unbelievably proud of both my kids, but you're one of the greatest tennis players of all time, and Fleur is second only to Alexia bloody Putellas. I'd never shut up about my daughters."

Having spoken about this in therapy and pondered this during many sleepless nights, I know that my parents are proud of me. Everyone in my life has attempted to convince me that I would have reached Papa's high expectations at least once, despite their misunderstanding at the endlessness of them. He just raises them. And then Mumma, with her own success and lack of natural talent for dealing with her own children, does seem to be the more easy-going of the two. Unless you really get into it. Because saying words because you feel you have to, and meaning them are two different things. But yes. My parents are proud of me.

"My mother won an Olympic gold for the 100m sprint in 1992." Every four years, we'd watch that race again. She seemed to have started five seconds earlier than everybody else. "We're quite a sporty family."

"I remember watching her race back in the day," Amanda recalls, smiling. "It's crazy to think that she retired the year after. It was such a big story at the time. Everyone was saying that she had ten more years left in her." Mumma was bored of beating everybody, or so she claims. The new challenge she took up was to move to Amsterdam and learn Dutch. "So did you guys ever do athletics or was it just tennis and football?"

Shaking my head, I think it surprises Amanda that we didn't. Mumma regrets it. "Our father has always been a lot more... involved in what we do. He liked to be the one signing us up to things and taking us out, but we have both been playing our sports from very young ages so we have always been too busy for others. Fleur used to do cross-country for our school, though. She likes to run."

"Leah is adamant that running without a football at her feet is a waste of time," Amanda tells me, though it isn't necessary. I already know that. "What kind of training do you do? I don't think I've ever met a professional tennis player before."

We talk about my career after I have told her about my typical training plan, and I think she releases any doubts about my job after I explain how prize money works. At least I'm not the gold-digger. I've already told Leah to quit playing football and become my housewife anyway.

It's pleasant to talk with Amanda, and I feel welcomed into Leah's world. I love being in Leah's world.

notes: 

this is not a filler chapter there is no such thing

thanks for reading my NOTAFILLERCHAPTER chapter x