"Never play me like that again!" Leah's glare is obvious in the reflection of the windshield, though the droplets of rain hammering down distort her face slightly. I roll my eyes, irritated already from her earlier comments.

"You're being dramatic."

It angers her more, though I am not sure I intended to do that.

She is driving me back from the airport. It has been a week since I told her I would live with her. A week in which I stayed with my father in Amsterdam. Leah has not been happy about the arrangement since I told her about it, and is still annoyed as we pull into her driveway.

"I missed you so much," she whines, parking the car close to her front door, my side a direct path inside the house. Even when arguing with me, she is still cautious of my calf, acting as though I am made of glass. It took some convincing to get her to not book me assistance in the airport. "I told the girls that my girlfriend was staying with me for a bit, and then, when they asked to meet her, I had to tell them that you'd ditched me for your dad. A man you don't even like!"

She slams the car door loudly, adding to her theatrics. She opens mine with the same glare I have been watching build up the whole car journey, though the sheepish smile I give her seems to soften it slightly. "I like him," I reply, much to her skepticality. "He can be difficult – he was difficult – but I like him. I appreciate all that he has done for me."

"Jaimie, the man acts as if you can do no wrong, and crucifies you when you make a mistake." And, sometimes, that is what I need.

"He pushes me to do better."

"That is what you pay Juan for. I'll get your bag." I shrug, pushing away the hand she has extended to help me out. She unlocks her door, and I step inside as quickly as I can without getting wet. "A father is supposed to support you. Not love you on the condition that you are some unbeatable champion who only dates people who speak Dutch and are Ajax fans."

So this is what this is about. Leah is annoyed that he doesn't like her. She is not used to people resisting her charms. "He is unimpressed with me, not you," I attempt to comfort her as she takes off her wet hoodie and dirty shoes, kicking my suitcase inside with a pettiness only a five-year-old (and, clearly, my girlfriend) could possess.

"He's unimpressed that you are with me," she corrects truthfully. I wince. "It's fine. Not like he's the father of the girl I love!"

Suddenly, I find this hilarious. Her pout is genuine and her foot stamps as she winges, arms folding across her chest in a picture of indignation. "My mother will be less critical," I giggle, opening my arms for her to stomp her way into.

"Won't be hard. I wasn't even there and he managed to make me nervous," she grumbles into my shoulder.

"Are we going out tonight?" She hugs me tighter. "It's Friday."

"Why would I share you?"

"...I may have been invited to a club." Leah groans, tired from her day of training. I'm glad that I get to choose when I train more or less, because being handed a schedule and told to comply would have me just as exhausted as she usually is. "If you don't want to come, I will check with—"

"No, I'll come. Can I bring Alex?"

I think back to what my agent told me. It's a big night for them, and the guest list for the VIP section is exclusive. Alex Scott, with all her connections, is probably already going. "Ask her if she has been invited. We have time to relax. I was thinking of getting there for midnight, and leaving at two. Tomorrow I have some interviews in London, so I should probably sleep." I have physio, too.

"Doesn't sound like you're sleeping to me." We walk into the kitchen, where I get a glass from the cupboard in which they are kept and fill it with water from the fridge's filter. "You're busier than I'd thought you'd be."

"Were you expecting a housewife?"

"You could make me breakfast every morning," she starts cheekily. I swat at her bum. "Hey! I'm just saying that you should start your WAG life."

"I need to compensate for the money being lost from missing tournaments." Hence the interviews and an event that will hopefully get me some deals with smaller, boutique brands. They like to have a name backing them and I like to wear cute jewellery.

"Well, can I at least call your agent and tell her I want my girlfriend back?"

Over the next few days, Leah makes a point to interrupt the calls between Charley and I when she can. Nothing super interesting is revealed, seeing as she already knew about the documentary. What truly surprises Leah is my lack of complaint in regards to being loaned out to everyone and everything during my recovery. She says that she would be too miserable about not playing to be able to make guest appearances at various tennis training camps.

She assumes that's what I'm doing today, too, having left for training while I was in London for treatment and a brunch with potential sponsors (some Aussie juice brand that is beginning to have a Vegemite reputation). However, I have asked two things of Charley.

I want a shoe line.

I want a tour of London Colney.

My agent knows about Leah, but likes to milk things for all they are worth. For some reason, the Arsenal management want to show me around and gift me tickets to a few of the men's matches. I am good press, I think.

The brunch is awkwardly informal, and they seem to take a shine to me. I wonder if it has something to do with the incredibly tight turtleneck Charley had her assistant (who now doubles as a stylist?) select from my pathetically small wardrobe, and how it sticks to me like spandex. I pair it with a blazer to combat the appalling weather, and have found that Leah's baggy jeans (tighter on me) match well.

After it is over, I exhale deeply, bored out of my mind. The food was good, though. Marcus drives me to London Colney with an exciting narration of the club's recent happenings, torturing me just like Leah usually does. Once parked, I am greeted by Mikel Arteta, the manager of the men's team. He tells me that he will be showing me around. "Our men aren't here, but we can watch the women train, if you would like." He places his hand on my back to guide me inside.

The facility itself is what you would expect; offices, treatment rooms, a pool, gyms. The pitches are meticulously mown to perfection, and they span out far. It's impressive.

In the distance, I can see little figures running around, kicking balls. There are a lot of blonde heads.

"Here is the women's physio room," Mikel says, knocking on the door. The unmistakable voice of Beth Mead rings out with permission to enter. "Hi, girls. I'm showing Jaimie around."

Viv raises her eyebrows at me as we step inside the room. "Does your girlfriend know that you're here?" she asks in Dutch as Mikel's phone begins to buzz. He excuses himself to take the call.

"No, but I'll say hello in a bit." Viv rolls her eyes and scoots her legs over, giving me room to sit on the physio bench without hurting her knee. We switch to English for the sake of Beth. "How are you both?"

"Alright," Beth replies, smiling. "You look pretty. How was Amsterdam? Leah wouldn't shut up about it."

"Thank you. It was nice to be home," I answer, trying not to dwell on the bad. Instead, I think about Leah's reaction to me in her clothes, which is becoming a common occurrence the more I realise I need to go shopping. It is hard to discern which garment she wants me in and which she doesn't. Her shoes, conveniently my size, are a big no.

"That bad, huh?" Viv and I laugh at Beth's perceptiveness. "Well, we're glad you're here. I'm a fan, you know. So's Viv!"

I smirk, reminded of something I had previously forgotten about. "Beth, did you know that Viv used to have a crush on m–"

"When I was, like, fifteen," she interjects defensively, crossing her arms. "Are you going to tell Leah?"

"About your crush on me?" I ask, confused. Beth eagerly awaits an explanation as Viv widens her eyes, trying to help me remember.

And then I do.

It is no secret that I have... slept around. There is a lot of stress involved in the tour, and there is little time to have a relationship unless you are sure it will be worth it. I've lost matches where I've needed to take my mind off things, and I've won tournaments which called for big celebrations. Footballers tend to be ready and waiting and available everywhere. They come in excess, with the same pent up emotions and unwillingness for commitment. But they transfer to different teams. And they befriend each other. And I end up with situations like this.

See, only Viv knows about Victoria Pelova ending up in my bed after the Libéma Open after-party a few years ago. She was sworn to secrecy by the both of us, with an emphasis on how Fleur can never know. Viv, being woven into it already, consequently ended up being told by Fleur exactly which of their teammates I have had sex with following an awkward close-call conversation.

"Caitlin was ages ago," I start, thinking this through. "And Leah won't care." Turning to Beth, I ask, "will Leah care?"

She shrugs. "I'm not 100% sure what you're talking about..."

"Jaimie's one-night stands." Thanks, Viv.

Beth's eyes widen slightly, but she is too polite to appear as intrigued as she probably would be. "You have had... with Caitlin and Vic?" she asks slowly, in lieu of confirmation though she is too English to call it what it is.

"Not at the same time," I clarify.

"No!" Beth sounds horrified at the prospect. And, I'm certain, horrified that we are having this conversation. "Erm. I'm not sure what Leah would think. Is it a big deal to you?"

"Nah," I reply, shaking my head. Viv is laughing at the both of us.

"They are two names on an extensive list of us," explains one girlfriend to the other, pushing me gently as I slide off. Mikel has appeared in the doorway, ready to continue the tour. An assistant appears beside him, carrying two black umbrellas that will probably be decorated with Arsenal crests the minute they are opened. "Tot ziens! We'll be nice and dry in here."

I jab a thumb towards the assistant. "VIP treatment, Viv. I'm that important."

She looks excited for the wind to blow the rain directly into my eyes.

With it being so terribly miserable outside, Mikel stalls the tour in some inane Arsenal-has-won-things room, waxing as lyrical as he can with his limited knowledge of the women's side. Luckily, he runs out of things to say about them, and shows me the training pitches.

"Obviously, in an ideal world, we'd have the team meet you. We are tennis fans – fans of you." I still cannot figure out what exactly the club wants from me. "The Emirates has a box waiting for you if you would like to attend our match against Crystal Palace in three days' time." As we walk, we get closer to where the team is training. The manager of the women's team, Jonas Eidvall, looks up at me. He says something to the other coach and approaches us.

"Good afternoon." He holds his hand out, introducing himself. I shake it, doing the same. "Hi, Mikel. What are you doing?"

"Jaimie wanted a tour of the ground. You are a football fan?" I nod, not wanting to make a big deal out of me actually just wanting to spy on Leah. "So, we have tickets for our upcoming match, and a very English day to show her everything that happens."

"Alright," Jonas says, turning around to watch his players. "Well, this is our women's first team who are training right now. We like to keep a certain level of intensity while maintaining a pleasant atmosphere..."

He drones on. I watch Leah.

She is in the middle of a rondo when she notices me. And she gets nutmegged because she does.

Jonas claps his hands together. "In fact, I will call a water break and you can talk to a few of our players!" I fight off my laughter, though the woman who is holding the umbrella over my head can see how my shoulders shake. "Leah, Katie, come here!" They put down their water bottles and jog over, Leah wearing a smirk that almost exceeds Katie McCabe's. "We are a team of leaders," Jonas explains. "Leah captains England, and Katie, Ireland. Our club captain, Kim, is only one of many." He points out Kim, who Leah speaks of with admiration and fondness.

There is a moment of silence before somebody clears their throat. "What are you doing here?" Leah crosses her arms, waiting for my answer. The two Arsenal managers look alarmed at the manner in which she has spoken to me.

"Nice to meet you too," I say, playing at being offended.

"Fuck off, Jaimie."

"Leah..." Jonas starts, confused.

"Sorry, sorry. Jaimie de Voss, you left my bed this morning on the basis that you'd be in London the whole day." Leah looks at me as though I left without giving her a kiss goodbye. Which is untrue. "How come you're here?"

"Can I tell you later?" She nods with a tinge of exasperation, but then it sets in that I am here and her demeanour changes. "Mikel, Jonas," I begin, feeling sorry for how they have been left out of the loop. Katie watches on with the same smirk as before. "Leah is my girlfriend."

Mikel's eyebrows furrow, but he says nothing, instead letting Jonas take charge of the conversation. "Okay." Jonas inhales deeply and with an air of experience. "Leah, go back to training. Katie!" His attention turns to his other player, who blinks back her daze with an impressive speed. "Show Jaimie – if that's alright with you Mikel – the pitches, and maybe introduce her to the girls. You are very welcome here at Arsenal Women, Jaimie."

It feels like they are trying to recruit me, but I fear they have the wrong de Voss sister.

Following orders well, Katie takes the umbrella from the assistant (which I then take from her to hold myself) and leads me to the pitch, inching closer to where Leah is watching intently from her drill. She is quiet as we reach the edge of the drill, stopping beside the drinks. And then she has a lot to say.

First of all, "You are so out of Leah's league." As I said, this turtleneck is very tight. "She told us it was you, but then suddenly you're 'out of the country' and... I dunno. I thought she was telling fibs." I laugh, closing the umbrella as it has stopped raining. "Also, I have a girlfriend but–"

"No!" shouts Leah from a couple of metres away, though it is well-disguised as part of the general chatter of the training session.

"We finish in five minutes, so I'll introduce everyone to you then. I bet Leah's fuming that Jonas didn't let her." She might be angry now, but I am sure I will find a way to help her forget later. "You know Viv, don't you? She's inside with Beth – ACL one and two. Hey, aren't you injured?"

"I know Viv, yes. And it is my calf. Thankfully not my ACL," I reply, wishing I had worn a coat as a chill creeps up my blazer.

"You're brilliant at tennis, you know. I don't really watch it, but, obviously, Leah's had it on and wow. It's terrifying, actually: you and Fleur. I've got so many siblings and we're all great, I suppose, but your parents must be so proud." People are logical to assume so but entirely wrong. It is the worst.

She keeps talking until a whistle is blown and the girls drop the pretence and practically swarm me. Katie steps in front of me like a bodyguard. My girlfriend looks offended that she wasn't given the opportunity.

"Yes, this is Jaimie de Voss. She's on a tour. She's a guest. Be nice," barks a little woman, who I realise is Kim. Everybody stops to listen to her. She breaks out into a grin. "And Katie says that Leah wasn't lying!" They cheer. Leah's ears flush red – they do that when she gets annoyed. "Alright, alright. Give her some space, let her breathe. Go on, Katie, introduce us all."

The girls move back as though they are a platoon under their Scottish captain. They even arrange themselves in a vague line. Katie takes in a deep breath. "Sabs, Manu, and Kaylan are our keepers. That one's Wally, and then..." She gets through most of them. Caitlin gives me a shy wave, and Vic barely looks at me before rolling her eyes and pulling me into a hug.

"Nice to see you again," she says, though the team looks puzzled. Even if they understood Dutch, I think they'd still wear that expression. Good. It's a well-kept secret.

Safe in the belief that nobody will get it, I respond, "nice to see you with clothes. Missing Ajax?"

She shrugs. "Depends on the day. Lotte speaks Dutch, by the way." I turn quickly to find the English defender, whose eyes are squinted as she pretends to not pay attention.

I flick my gaze to Leah. "Don't tell her." Lotte nods.

"Okay, Dutch party over!" declares Katie loudly. "Jaimie, please explain how Leah managed to convince you to date her. We are all at a loss for it." Leah's 'friendly' shove looks like it hurt Katie more than it should have.

━━━━━━━

Leah attempts to convince Marcus that she will drive me to where I need to be while I catch up with Vic and Viv. Both of them don't hesitate to look at my girlfriend every so often, but the elephant in the big car-park goes unmentioned. Until Caitlin walks past and Viv can't take it anymore.

"Look, she won't get mad. You're making it a big deal." Beth is waiting patiently for the both of them in their car, sitting in the passenger seat.

"Telling her would make it a big deal. You agree that it meant nothing, right?" Vic nods quickly, harbouring the same pleasant regret as I do. I scratch my head. "Leah gets jealous."

"I'd get jealous if I were her," Vic replies with a laugh.

"She told you about Jordan."

"Jordan Nobbs is a different matter," I say curtly. Sharply. They look at me as if I have nipped at their cheeks.

Viv holds her hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying that it won't make a difference to your relationship. Vicky's not trying to get into your pants now, is she?"

"Jaimie seduced me!"

"No, because I told Leah I didn't get mixed up with footballers–" I am cut off by two sets of hysterical laughter. "I know," I whine, "I fucked up. She'll want to know my whole dating history."

"Does she not already?"

"Her best friend just died," I try, avoiding Viv's eyes as though they will disintegrate me. The silence is heavy and pregnant and I wish I didn't see their point. "Okay, fine. I will tell her. If she doesn't pass to you anymore then it isn't my problem."

"If we didn't pass to our ex-girlfriends, it would be every woman for herself out there."

True.

Leah waves frantically to get my attention. "Can you tell Marcus that I'm perfectly capable of driving you to my house?" I raise my eyebrows at Viv and Vic before quickly saying goodbye, and then join my girlfriend beside Marcus' shiny, black Mercedes.

"Marcus, I think this crazy lady wants to kidnap me," I tease, knowing Leah has been growing more frustrated ever since I was introduced to her teammates as Jaimie de Voss the tennis player and not Jaimie de Voss 'my girlfriend'. Leah pokes a finger into my side. "Ow!"

"Yeah, well there's more of where that came from if you don't get in my car." Marcus is too professional not to square up to Leah slightly, though it is amusing to see Leah instinctively broaden her shoulders to challenge him. "Jaimie, quit playing around," she groans, softening at the smile I give her.

"Go home early, Marcus. Your wife will be pleased with me for once."

"Are you sure?"

Leah confirms it before I can, practically dragging me to her car. "Wally is coming over tonight. I need you to myself for a bit." It's a knock-on effect from earlier, but it was to be expected. "And you need to explain why both managers are kissing the ground you walk on as if you're about to buy the whole bloody club!"

I sit down in the passenger seat, immediately connecting my phone to the car's bluetooth and finding a good song to start the drive home with. "And?" I prompt as Leah plops down on the driver's side.

"And..." She reverses out of the car-park. "I love you?" 

notes: 

tbh i have no idea what this is i think i've been hallucinating for the past few days and this is what has been born of it 

anyway, remember the list of footballers? here's what happens because of the list

also the date is 16th March (one of the rare chapters where i actually know this info)

thanks for reading ;)