Lines We Cross - Alexia Putellas

Two. A New Start

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Moving clubs was supposed to be an exciting prospect; a new country, new faces, and a new start. Veronica worried as she touched down in the hot Barcelona, and instantly compared it to Paris—but with the beating sun against her skin, it was a difficult comparison to make.

Her agent had asked of the Spaniard to keep the move quiet, but rumours had already began to circle when pictures of Veronica had been taken in the airport—with suitcases and boxes following behind her. She had been sent videos concerning the sudden reappearance of the former PSG star, after her year long disappearance from the limelight.

Relief settled into her chaotic mind as the sight of a figure stood in the centre of the airport holding a sign up, 'Veronica Castellano' and approaches the older woman wearing a suit.

"Veronica. It's nice to see you here, I'm Daníela, call me Daní. I've been assigned to help you transition in Barcelona." Daní smiled in attempts to comfort the visibly nervous player, as they began to walk beside each other until they got into the car.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Veronica couldn't help her eyes from looking around at surroundings.

"We're going to your apartment first to drop your bags off, okay? Then to get you signed. Are you excited?" Daní said with a happy tone, ecstatic to see another player and especially one with a such a reputation like Veronica Castellano.

When news of the Spaniard moving to Barcelona came to the team, each and every one of the women were excited at the prospect of having Veronica play for them—after her decade spent at PSG, with award after award coming her way.

"Does nervous count?" Veronica chuckled lightly followed by Daní, who reached over the controls in the centre of the car to rub her forearm—but the athlete was shocked by the sudden touch, yanking from the older woman's warm hand.

Silence continued until the car stopped outside of the block of apartments, Veronica opened her mouth to say something before climbing out of the car—processing what had just happened and how to approach it, but that answer needed to come quicker as Daní rounded the car and stopped by her side.

"Do you mind helping me carry the boxes?" The brunette questioned softly, watching as her liaison officer nodded with a content smile and picked up one of them in her hands, thanking the athlete as she held the door open.

When the boxes had been moved in, it was then that Veronica realised just how little she had brought to Barcelona and that realisation was amplified when her large apartment echoed with emptiness.

"Is there an IKEA here?" Veronica nervously pulled at the collar of her shirt, aware of how it stuck to her skin from sweat that had built up.

Though she was from the Mallorcan islands, it didn't help that Veronica had been living in the cold and dreary Paris for the last decade—sun had became a rarity.

"I'll take you this week and..." Suddenly Daní looked cautious as she played with her fingers behind her back, shy as the footballer's eyes settled onto her in scrutiny, "Sorry for touching you in the car, I wasn't really—"

Veronica was quick to cut her off, "It's fine. I'm just not... a touchy person."

Evidently in her eyes, Daní wanted to say more as she processed what the brunette had told her, but decided against it.

"Oh! I'm sorry, you must want a shower after your flight... I'll wait for you to get ready," The older woman smiled awkwardly, "I'll let Jonatan know you're here."

Turning away from Daní, Veronica ventured down the hallway and opening each door on her sides, in attempts of finding the bathroom. Entering the sleek white room, with a modern shower situated in the corner—she breathed out a sigh of relief, glad that she was finally alone.