Chapter 11

August 5th (Monday)

Alexia

The Mediterranean sun was relentless, reflecting off the white sand of Castelldefels with a brilliance that made my head ache. I sat on a sprawling towel, my sunglasses shielding my eyes, watching the waves roll in with a rhythmic, hypnotic pull.

“I can practically hear your brain grinding from here, Ale. Relax. It’s a recovery day. That means recovering,” Mapi said, leaning back on her elbows beside me. She looked perfectly at home in her swimwear, her tattoos catching the light.

“I am relaxed,” I lied, my posture as stiff as a board. “I just don’t see why we couldn’t have done this in the hydrotherapy pools at the facility. It’s more controlled.”

“Because pools don’t have salt, sand, and soul,” Mapi countered, nodding toward the shoreline. “And they definitely don’t have that.”

I followed her gaze. About twenty yards away, the “controlled” environment I craved was being systematically destroyed by a whirlwind of fur and laughter.

Aurora was in the surf, her trousers rolled up to her knees, looking completely different from the girl I had scolded in the tactical room. She was chasing Luna through the shallow water, kicking up sprays of diamonds in the sunlight. Pina was right there with them, trying to throw a tennis ball, but Luna was too fast, darting between their legs and barking with pure, unadulterated joy.

Aurora tripped over a small wave and went down with a splash, letting out a loud, melodic laugh that carried over the sound of the ocean. She didn’t look like a nervous rookie. She didn’t look like a girl under the thumb of a demanding captain.

She looked like she was exactly where she belonged.

“She’s a different person near the water,” Mapi noted, her voice softer now. “Look at her. She’s not overthinking a single thing.”

I watched as Aurora stood up, her hair dripping and salt-streaked, and grabbed Luna by the front paws, dancing with the dog in the surf. Pina was doubled over laughing nearby. It was a scene of such effortless happiness that it felt alien to me. I had spent so many years viewing the world through the lens of ‘performance’ that I had forgotten how to just… be.

“She’s energetic,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“She’s happy, Ale. There’s a difference,” Mapi corrected. She nudged my shoulder. “Go say something. And don’t make it about her defensive positioning.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Liars go to hell,” Mapi chirped, then stood up to join the others, leaving me alone on the towel.

I stayed there for a long time, a silent observer on the edge of their joy. I watched the way Aurora interacted with the team-how easily she fit in when I wasn’t there to cast a shadow. I saw her pick up a handful of sand and playfully dump it on Pina’s head, her face lit up with a mischievous grin.

Eventually, the group started heading back up the beach toward the towels. Aurora was trailing slightly behind, shaking the water out of her hair, with Luna trotting faithfully at her side. She noticed me sitting there, the only one still anchored to the dry sand.

She paused, her expression shifting for a second-that brief flash of ‘Captain-fear’-before she remembered where we were. She wiped a smudge of wet sand from her cheek and walked closer, her eyes bright and defiant in the sun.

“The water is perfect, Ale,” she called out, her voice clear over the breeze. “Better than a cold tub. You should try it. Or are you afraid of a little salt?”

I looked up at her, the Queen on her towel, and for the first time, the distance between us felt absurd. She was dripping wet, covered in sand, and looked entirely alive.

“I’ll stick to the dry land for now, Ora,” I replied. I tried to make it sound cold, but the nickname slipped out with an accidental softness that betrayed me.

She grinned-a real, genuine grin that reached her eyes-and whistled for Luna. “Your loss. Try not to over-analyze the clouds while we’re gone.”

I watched her walk away again, her laughter blending with Pina’s. I realized then that Mapi was right. She wasn’t the one who needed to learn how to fit into my world. Maybe, just maybe, I was the one who needed to learn how to step into hers. But just maybe.

Claudia Pina

If there’s one thing I’m good at-besides finding the top corner from outside the box-it’s reading people. You have to be able to read the game to play for Barça, but reading Alexia Putellas? That’s usually like trying to decode a top-secret government file.

But today, sitting here on the sand with a half-melted ice cream in my hand, the file was wide open. And it was fascinating.

I’ve known Alexia for years. She’s “La Reina.” She’s the standard-bearer. She’s usually about as relaxed as a ticking time bomb, even on a day off. But since Ora arrived, something in the air has shifted. Alexia has been… different. Harder, yeah. Rougher with the critiques, definitely. But there’s this other thing-this weird, soft static that hums whenever Ora is in the room.

I looked over at Alexia, who was still sitting on her towel like she was guarding a fortress. Her sunglasses were on, but I knew exactly where her eyes were aimed. She wasn’t looking at the horizon. She wasn’t looking at Mapi.

She was watching Ora.

Ora was currently five meters away, completely oblivious, trying to teach Luna how to “surf” on a piece of driftwood. She looked so happy and so completely unlike the shy girl who had walked into the locker room a week ago.

“Hey, Ale!” I shouted, waving my ice cream. “Are you going to come help us, or are you waiting for a written invitation from the King of Spain?”

Alexia didn’t move. “I’m fine where I am, Pina. Someone has to make sure you don’t drown the dog.”

I rolled my eyes and looked at Mapi, who gave me a subtle, wicked little wink. She saw it too. We all saw it. Alexia was “not liking” Ora so hard that it was starting to look like the exact opposite. Every time Ora laughed, I saw Alexia’s jaw tighten. Every time Ora kicked up water, Alexia’s head turned just a fraction of a degree to follow her.

It was like watching a masterclass in denial.

“She’s staring again,” I whispered to Ora as she trotted back to the towels to grab a water bottle.

Ora glanced toward Alexia and then quickly looked away, a faint blush creeping up her salt-dusted cheeks. “She’s just looking for a reason to tell me my ‘beach-running form’ is inefficient. She’s probably timing my laps in her head.”

“I don’t think she’s timing your laps, bella,” I teased, bumping my shoulder against hers. “I think she’s wondering how you managed to make her world so messy in just seven days.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pina,” Ora muttered, but she couldn’t hide the tiny, secret smile that tugged at her lips.

I watched them both-the Captain on her island of sand and the Rookie in her ocean of chaos. Alexia was being so “rubia”-so abrasive and cold-but the way she said Ora earlier… it wasn’t a bark. It was almost a caress.

Alexia Putellas doesn’t do “soft.” She does winning. But as I watched her eyes follow Ora back toward the water, I realized the Queen might be losing this particular battle. And honestly? I was here for the drama.

“Come on, Ora!” I grabbed her hand, dragging her back toward the waves. “Let’s see if we can get the Captain to actually crack a smile. I’ll bet you twenty Euros she can’t stay on that towel for another ten minutes.”

Ora laughed, that bright, bell-like sound again, and I saw Alexia’s grip tighten on her water bottle.

Checkmate, Ale, I thought. You’re obsessed.