Fragile

Chapter 2 - Number Swap

Maybe I was a little awkward. Maybe I was sweating like I'd just run sprints at training. But as we walked toward the park, talking about everything and nothing, I realized something else—I didn't mind. Not with her.

We found a bench under the shade of a large oak tree, the leaves rustling softly in the warm breeze. I sighed as I sat down, immediately shrugging off my leather jacket and draping it over the back of the bench.

"Bad choice," I muttered, tugging at the collar of my white shirt, trying to let some air in.

Evelyn smirked as she took another sip of her coffee. "Told you it was hot."

I shot her a look. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

She did, shaking her head before setting her cup down beside her. "I will, actually. This is fun for me."

I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway, leaning back against the bench. The warmth of the day settled around us, but here, in the shade, it was bearable. I let my eyes flick over to Evelyn, who had pulled one leg up onto the bench, turning slightly toward me.

"How's Riggs?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Evelyn's face softened instantly, her expression shifting into something more tender. "He's good. Hyper, as always. He spent most of yesterday running around the apartment pretending to be you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Pretending to be me?"

She laughed, nodding. "Yeah. He had your jersey on—won't take it off, by the way—and kept shouting things like, 'I'm Leah Williamson! I'm the captain of England!' Then he started giving team talks to his stuffed animals."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Sounds like a future captain."

"Or just a very dramatic six-year-old," she countered, grinning.

"That too." I smiled, picturing it. "He's a good kid."

"He really is." She exhaled, glancing down at her cup for a moment before looking back up. "It's a little scary sometimes, you know? Knowing that he's looking at me to figure out how to navigate the world. I don't always feel like I have the answers."

I studied her, noticing the way her fingers tapped lightly against her cup, the way her eyes flickered with something that looked a lot like doubt. "I think just the fact that you care that much means you're doing it right," I said, my voice quieter now.

She looked at me for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression, before she exhaled a soft laugh. "You really do have a way with words, don't you?"

I shrugged. "Comes with the job. Captain and all."

She hummed, amused. "Right, right. Always leading the team, always knowing what to say." She smirked then. "Except when you're sweating and awkward around me."

I groaned, dropping my head back against the bench. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Not a chance."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Fine. I'll take it."

She stretched her legs out in front of her, the sun catching on the curve of her knee. "So what about you?" she asked. "What's it like? Being you?"

I frowned, thinking. "That's... a big question."

"Okay, I'll narrow it down." She turned to face me fully now, her knee brushing against my thigh. "What's the best part about what you do?"

I considered it for a moment before answering. "Winning."

She laughed. "Figures."

I grinned but continued. "It's more than that, though I guess. It's the feeling of everything coming together. When you step onto the pitch, and everything just... clicks. Like, yeah, this is what I'm meant to do."