Hold Me Close

seeing red

With three matches left to play in the league, the starting line-up is changed, these games no longer being played for the title. We have won it already. Training is now focused on winning the Champions League and healing the pain from losing the final last year. Though I was not present, it is easy to be just as invested in it as Mapi is. Their passion is contagious.

Jonatan enjoys watching me suffer, because he puts me in a room with Alexia for our away match against Sevilla. It's a mutual decision to use the room solely for sleeping. She stalks off to do whatever Alexia does, and I lounge around with Ingrid and Aitana, playing a non-committal game of UNO that is spoiled every few minutes by Mapi shouting out who has what cards. Eventually, the terror grows bored of us and runs off to find something else to do.

She returns with Alexia, which our silent agreement had not accounted for.

"If you are going to ruin the game again, María, then please go away," Ingrid grumbles, not looking up from her hand as she figures out a way to not have to pick up four cards from the double-blow of mine and Aitana's +2s. We had to team up or else she would win. Reluctantly, she plucks out her wild card and places it on the pile.

Mapi looms over me, taking advantage of my position on the carpeted floor. "Fleur only has red." Focused on Ingrid's face, I lean back to smack Mapi's legs, annoyed that she has the audacity to make me lose. And to imitate Alexia's voice while she says it. Is she five?

When my hand connects with smooth skin, Aitana's mouth drops open. The room seems to dull under the cover of storm clouds. I look up, wondering why Mapi's sense of fun has suddenly disappeared.

"Uh oh," Mapi says, standing in front of me.

Hold on.

In front of me?

That isn't possible. She was literally just...

"Hitting your captain?"

No.

UNO forgotten, Ingrid sniggers behind her hand, cards littering the floor as she tries to remain calm. My mouth goes dry as I come to the realisation that Mapi's scarily accurate impression of Alexia might be the captain herself. She did come in here with Mapi, after all. I chance a look upwards, but the shadow has moved and is now crouched by Aitana, a finger pushing her chin up to close her mouth again. "Era una broma," Alexia says with a smirk, enjoying the bewilderment on all of our faces. "Por favor, continue."

The sight of her makes some sort of emotion bubble up in me, like magma waiting for the volcano to erupt. Alexia hadn't lied about what cards I had, and I see red as I throw them down, storming out of the room completely enraged by what just happened. I know that it's unreasonable, but something about the way her lips moved with such cockiness, such arrogance, makes me furious.

Leaning against the wall in the hotel corridor, I try to feel less miserable. Jaimie said she'd call later, wanting to cheer herself up after having a late training. Her calf is almost back to normal, and she is on the last leg of her recovery. She'll go to France in ten days in preparation to rejoin the WTA tour. Her aim is to win the first tournament as a confidence boost going into the Roland-Garros. I think she is just counting down the days to the English part of the circuit, because then she can visit Leah Williamson to her lovesick heart's content.

"I'm sorry." The door of Ingrid's hotel room thuds shut as Alexia stands opposite me. A few people come out of the other rooms, returning to their own before it gets too late. Jonatan doesn't really set a curfew, but there is an expectation to get sufficient rest before all matches.

Talia breezes past with ruffled hair and red cheeks, not looking either of us in the eye. Alexia and I exchange a glance, the interest of the twenty-year-old a neutral topic, but we let her go back to her shared room with Salma with no teasing. It's clear what she has been doing with this evening's free time.