Chapter 16

August 6th (Monday)

Aurora

The fluorescent lights of the locker room hummed with an aggressive, sterile energy that made my head throb. I was early—too early. I had bolted out of my apartment the second Alexia’s car pulled away from the curb, unable to sit still with the ghost of her touch still lingering on my skin.

We hadn’t talked. Not really.

There were no definitions, no “what are we,” no promises whispered in the haze of the early dawn. When the sun had finally started to bleed through the blinds, the magic of the night had felt like it was evaporating. Alexia had stood by my door, looking every bit like the Captain again—composed, sharp, and focused. But just before she left, she had reached out, cupping my face in her hands with a tenderness that nearly brought me to my knees.

“See you at training, Ora,” she’d murmured.

And that was it.

Now, I sat on the wooden bench, staring at my boots like they held the secrets to the universe. My body felt heavy, my mind a chaotic loop of the way she tasted and the way her heart had drummed against my ear.

“You’re staring at those laces like they’re written in ancient Greek, De Luca.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked up to see Mapi leaning against the far row of lockers, a smirk playing on her lips. She was already half-changed, her training top pulled over her head, but her eyes were narrowed with a terrifying amount of perception.

“Just… focused, Mapi,” I managed to say, my voice sounding scratchy and thin.

“Right. Focused.” Mapi walked over, dropping onto the bench opposite me. She didn’t say anything for a long minute, just watched me with that restless, intelligent gaze of hers. “You look like you haven’t slept a wink. And yet, you’ve got this… glow. Like you’ve finally figured out how to plug yourself into a socket.”

I felt the heat rise from my neck to my cheeks. I bent down, fumbling with my socks to hide my face. “It was a long night. Taking Luna out, you know how it is.”

“I do know how it is,” Mapi said, her voice dropping an octave, losing some of its teasing edge. “I also know that Alexia’s car wasn’t in her driveway at 3:00 AM because I drove past her place after I left Pina’s.”

I froze, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I looked up, caught in Mapi’s stare. “Mapi—”

“Relax, kid,” she interrupted, reaching out to give my shoulder a firm, supportive squeeze. “Your secret is safe with me. But a word of advice? This place…” she gestured to the empty lockers and the hallway leading to the pitch, “…it has walls with ears. And Alexia? She’s the Queen. She’s used to building walls, not tearing them down. If she gets cold today, don’t think it’s because of last night. It’s because she’s scared of how loud her own heart is getting.”

Before I could respond, the heavy door groaned open. The sound of laughter and clicking studs filled the air as Pina and a few others spilled in.

And then, there she was.

Alexia walked in last. Her eyes immediately scanned the room, skipping over the others until they landed on mine. For a split second, the Captain’s mask slipped. Her gaze was intense, dark with a shared memory that made my breath hitch. Her lips parted slightly, a silent greeting that only I was meant to feel.

But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the shutter came down.

“Morning, everyone,” Alexia announced, her voice booming with its usual authority. “Focus up. We have a heavy tactical session today. No distractions. Let’s get to the pitch.”

She didn’t look at me again. She walked straight to her locker, her movements precise and distant.

The cold spike of panic I’d felt last night returned with a vengeance. Mapi’s warning echoed in my head. No distractions.Was that what I was? A distraction to be managed?

I stood up, my hands trembling as I grabbed my water bottle. I had survived the night, but as I followed the team toward the tunnel, I realized that surviving the day—and the silence between us—was going to be much, much harder.

Alexia

I could feel her. Even without looking, I knew exactly where Aurora was on the pitch. It was like a magnetic pull, a frequency my body had tuned into overnight and now couldn’t switch off. Every time she moved, every time she shifted her weight, I felt it.

And it was terrifying.

I kept my face like stone, my eyes fixed on the drill, barking out instructions that felt hollow in my own throat. “Mantén tu posición! Space out! Watch the transition!” I was playing the part of the Captain, the anchor, the woman who had everything under control. But inside, I was a wreckage of doubts.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Aurora was struggling. She missed a simple trapping of the ball—something she could usually do in her sleep—and I saw the way her shoulders slumped. She was distracted. Because of me. Because of what happened in that hallway, and because of the silence I had brought with me this morning.

I wanted to walk over to her. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders, pull her close, and tell her that the way I looked at her by the door wasn’t a lie. But I couldn’t.

If I let the mask slip here, everyone would know. Mapi was already circling like a shark that had caught a scent of blood in the water. And if the team knew, the fans would know. The press would know. Barcelona is a beautiful city, but it’s a gold-fish bowl. Every look, every touch, every late-night drive would be dissected. I had spent years building a legacy of professional perfection—not just for me, but for the club.

If this went wrong, I wouldn’t just be breaking my own heart. I could ruin hers. She was a rising star, a star that the world was just beginning to fall in love with. If I dragged her into the center of my storm, would she survive it? Or would I be the reason her fire went out?

“De Luca! Focus!” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended.

Aurora flinched. She looked at me, her eyes wide and wounded, and for a second, the ball rolled right past her foot. My chest ached. I wasn’t pushing her away because I didn’t want her—I was pushing her away because I didn’t know how to protect her from us.

I saw her bite her lip, a small, frustrated gesture that made me want to scream. She looked so small on the vast green of the pitch, trying to find her footing while I was the one shaking the ground beneath her.

I’m sorry, Ora, I thought, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. I’m trying to be what you need, but I don’t even know if I’m what’s best for you.

The coach called for a water break, and purposely walked in the opposite direction. I couldn’t look at her. Not yet. Because if I did, I knew I’d drop the ball, the captaincy, and the “standard,” just to hold her hand.