❀ │❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓! ❞
❝i never knew someone so self-centered would steal my heart.❞
❝im not just highlights and goals love.❞
⎯⎯⎯⋆⟡⋆⎯⎯⎯
[ alejandro garnacho x fem oc ]
[ in progress ]
pemier le...
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CHAPTER THREE
- LOCKER ROOM -
- ⚽︎ -
I S A B E L L A
point of view
OPENING MY COMPUTER, I DID a quick Google search on the players of Manchester United. I was familiar with the club, however, unfamiliar with some of the new players who wore the jersey. I wanted to curate my questions for the right audience. If they were younger players, they would obviously care more for a sleek and appealing-looking design, while older players would care more for simplicity and tradition.
Going onto the official Manchester United, I realized Gaby wasn't wrong. They were a group of cuties: Andre Onana, Lisandro Martínez, Tyrell Malacia, Luke Shaw, and Mason Mount.
Some who definitely caught my eye were Marcus Rashford, Alejandro Garnacho, and, well, obviously, Carlos Martinez.
I smiled.
Am I going to have fun with these one-on-one interactions.
- ⚽︎ -
Walking off the jet, I thanked the pilot and the crew below, only to be welcomed by my brother.
"Well, well, well. Who knew my private jet would be faster than yours? Oh, wait! I did. When I decided to buy mine first, before you copied me." Many said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You know, who knew the United Kingdom would be so gloomy? Never thought something was worse than California weather, but here we are. You know, if I could-"
"What are you doing here?" I said, interrupting him. I had no patience for him sometimes because all he did was talk out of his ass trying to sound smart.
"I came for company," he replied, taking off his sunglasses. "Won't be needing these," he added, putting them in his pocket. I rolled my eyes and began walking to the limousine. The door was opened by the chauffeur, and Many and I stepped inside. "Also, who knows, maybe I was sent as a recruit to scout out the place for a possible place to live." He looked at me, waiting for a reaction.
After moving from California to Mexico, then Spain, then back to Cali, then to Madrid, I honestly didn't care anyone. At the start, it was hard. I had learned about adapting and never getting too comfortable. I loved all the places I lived, each teaching me an important lesson, so moving didn't seem like that big of a deal anymore. Besides, Gaby's father, Emiliano Martínez, known as one of the best Argentinian footballers of this time, would always move too. He was close friends with my father, and, although young, he was very close to retiring. I knew I would never enter a new city without my best friend.
"Well, if Trafford is what the Ochoa's want, then I guess that's what we're going to get," I said, looking at Many.
He scoffed, obviously not pleased with my answer. "Aren't you mad we've had to move since you were like five years old? Never once have we just settled down for a moment and taken a breath. Ya me arte (I'm sick of it)."
