She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter eighteen.

"Eighteen," She nodded encouragingly. "Go on, yeah, nineteen. Yeah. Alright, fine, I'll give you that. Twenty."

Richard dropped the dumbbells with a loud bang and immediately collapsed back onto the fitness bench. Ada watched him for a moment, unimpressed, before pressing a somewhat obligatory smooch to his shiny forehead.

"Good job."

"Hmmph."

She rolled her eyes and moved to the other side of the gym, where Jamie was spotting Colin's chest presses. "How are we doing over here?"

"Alright." Jamie replied, smile tight as his brown eyes locked onto a mirrored pair. He was perhaps the only person on the team to take her criticisms and flare ups with a pinch of salt. They were partners once, before they got scouted and split into gendered divisions, and so Jamie was familiar with her zealous nature. He'd also been her rival at some point, and knew very well what competition meant to her.

    He also knew that winning this match against Manchester City had a little less to do with securing the Cup and a little more to do with spiting their father.

   Their father, who they hadn't seen or properly spoken to since the relegation match. Their father, who they knew would only ever reach out if he needed something. Their father, who'd been insistently spamming their phones with missed calls this week.

   Their father, who was calling again now.

    Ada's phone vibrated in her zip up jacket. Jamie watched as she fished it out, and as she stared at the contact name ("Dad"), and as she clenched the sharp jaw that they'd both inherited from him, and as she shoved the silenced device back into her pocket.

    His phone was next, and just like he did all throughout their childhood, Jamie followed her lead; stare at the weighty title of sire, clench jaw, ignore.

     "Alright, man," The striker sniffed, rubbing his hands together as he gestured for Colin to begin his next set. "Let's go, yeah? Switch it on, boy. Let's go, let's go."

    A ringtone echoed around the gym then, drowning out the deep breaths and gritted groans. The twins turned to each other –Ada had assumed it was his phone, Jamie had assumed it was hers.

     "Hello, Daddy." The sweet voice of Sam Obisanya happily greeted from behind them. He hit the speakerphone button in order to converse with his father and still paddle on the stationary bike – Ada said he had to do at least forty five kilometres before training.

A deep voice spoke back, warm despite its masculinely low tone. "Sam, do you know why I'm calling?"

"Um, no, sir."

"I'm calling because Cerithium Oil has just been ordered to stop operating in Nigeria." The man revealed. Obvious pride and sheer joy layered his words, a merging of sentiments so beautiful that to hear it felt like a holy privilege.

(At least, Ada thought so.)

Sam gaped, peddling even faster from the sudden burst of adrenaline. "Wait, what?" He asked in wondrous disbelief. "That's incredible!"

"And you were the butterfly whose wings made this happen. I am so proud of you, my son."

"Thank you, Dad." Sam grinned, shoulders slumping with modesty. A little ways away, two people's shoulders also slumped, but the load was hefty and not so charming. "I mean, look, I only did it because you inspired me to."

"I appreciate you saying that, because it's absolutely true." Mr. Obisanya japed with a belly laugh. It was a genuine and pure sort of laughter, the kind that seeped into conversation with the sole purpose of uplifting and entertaining. It was a laugh that he'd clearly passed onto his son, who was now sharing in the loud display of mirth.