She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter seven

Chapter seven, Make Rebecca Great Again.
"THE BACKHEEL STRIKE."

    IT ONLY TOOK A BRIEF GLANCE OVER HER SHOULDER To confirm that they were still stood there, watching her. There was a new man now, too – the boom operator. His fishpole microphone was slung over his shoulder as he moved to join his two colleagues by the stands, clearly not needing to hold it up anymore seeing as there was no dialogue taking place.

   Just yelling.

   "Colin," Ada called out from the sidelines, fingers snapping as she tried for the young man's attention. "Why are you fucking over stepping? Didn't I say pass to Bumbercatch on the third kick?"

    The game quickly halted. The players heaved tiredly, bending over to catch their breaths. They had yet to run a full practice match. Each try was interrupted by Ada Tartt, whose apparent perfectionist nature bordered on insanity as she played coach for the morning. They tried not to resent her for the constant criticism, though; the model was clearly irritated, standing there rigidly as a Vogue production crew waited for her to finish up.

   (There was also the fact that the entire team believed her to be mourning the absence of her brother, whose abrupt departure only days before had struck them all rather suddenly. Ada would never admit to the fact that she was hurting, but they knew.)

   "We're gonna run it again! Everyone back." Ada watched as they all obediently returned to their starting positions, groaning in exhaustion as they did so. "And you can thank Colin for that!"

   "Me?"

   "Pass on third!"

   Rebecca Welton watched on from her office window, a small frown marring her face as she watched Ada bark orders and avoid her actual job.

(And avoid her actual feelings.)

   "Are they supposed to be training now?" Rebecca asked quietly. "We're leaving soon."

She heard Keeley sigh from her place on the couch. Soon enough, the young woman was approaching the window as well, her high heels clacking against the pristine floorboards as she walked over.

Keeley glanced out at her best friend, watching as Ada halted yet another game only seconds after calling for it to start. This time, it looked to be because she hated the way Richard was standing – Keeley wasn't a lip reader by any means, but she was sure she caught the words too french leaving Ada's mouth.

"She's just nervous about the game," The young woman tried to defend. "You know how Richmond are with Everton."

Rebecca gave her a look, knowing that it was more than that. She knew that the actual answer would end up wracking her with nought but guilt and worry, but she needed to hear the real reason in order to make her next move toward helping Ada. So troubled was Rebecca for what she'd caused, that she didn't even have the time to relish in the fact that Richmond would undoubtedly tally another loss in Liverpool.

"Alright," Keeley sighed. "Look, just, wait for her to break, okay? That's all we can do now."

"Break?" The head of the club blinked, quickly turning to look back out the window. Rebecca had expected an answer within that realm, but break sounded far more grave than its many synonyms.

"Yeah, I mean, that's what happens when you don't heal a fracture, right?" Keeley began to second guess herself when Rebecca didn't look any more understanding. "Right?"

The woman nodded distractedly, "Yes. That's what happens after a fracture, Keeley." She swallowed heavily before turning to face the publicist once more. "What, and Jamie leaving for Manchester broke her?"

"Fractured her."

"But didn't they make up?"

And shouldn't that have made it easier? That Ada and her twin brother left things on good terms? That he moved back to Manchester after they reconciled? That they'd see each other over holidays and feel no tension or resentment?

Keeley sighed, "Look, you and Ada stopped talking not too long after Jamie was loaned to Richmond, okay? You don't really know what they're like together. Or what they're like when they're apart." The blonde had to bite back a shiver at the thought of those dreaded two months in which the twins stopped talking.

It was after Ada's accident. When Jamie, who had been an official Richmond player for a short enough time, decided to change his number from fifty one to nine. It was rare that players did that after already playing matches for a team, but the exception was made. And Ada, who had been grieving her lost career, shut him out for weeks.

It had been hell for Keeley, who was made to divide her time between the two of them. Who had to be equally supportive. Who had to listen to the each Tartt spit insults and then claim to miss the other in the same breath.

Rebecca didn't know about Ada's strange methods of dealing with her troubles. How she'd avoid them for a very long time before inevitably breaking down. How she'd once used partying as a plaster for a cancerous wound, and how she used her silence towards her brother as a means to silence all her other pains.

More than that, Rebecca wouldn't understand Ada's relationship with Jamie. Not really, at least. She only knew Ada as an only child; the girl from Manchester who would visit London for dinners and galas. Who would come over to the Mannion house on the rare weekends that she was free from training. Someone who spoke of their brother, yes, and who missed him on birthdays spent apart – but not someone who was necessarily attached.

Although, Rebecca supposed that Ada did start visiting more from Hertfordshire after Jamie joined the team. Started laughing more. Started playing better. Even bought Rupert a candle in the shape of a giant football – and whether it was to thank him for bringing Jamie over, she never knew, because Rebecca had been under the impression that Ada was displeased to have to share the London spotlight with another Tartt.

Had she read that wrong? Had Ada, so young and burdened by fame, been happy despite the occasional complaint? Had it brought her more comfort than resentment to have a piece of home here with her?

Had Rebecca's decision to separate them now, after they finally drove the mighty wedge away, done more damage than she thought?

"And I think you should light some incense. Cleanse the house, you know? Heal its bones. Free Cindy from the walls and the floors."

Keeley and Rebecca looked over to the office door. Ada was approaching, and she appeared to be the polar opposite of who she'd just been out on the pitch. Higgins was at her side, nodding slowly and taking note of all that she was saying.

"Morning, love!" Keeley grinned.

"Keels. Bex." She nodded calmly. "Did you know Higgins is planning on getting a new cat?"

Rebecca genuinely didn't care. She had a serious bone to pick with the man, having found of out from Ted Lasso that Higgins had been the one to help the team with the sacrificial ritual. And that it had even been his idea.

"Oh?" She asked, acting intrigued for Ada's sake more than anything.

The model nodded, walking further into the office. She moved towards the corner of the room, where Keeley's unreasonable amount of luggage was sat, and threw her own duffel bag down.

"Ada says I should cleanse my house first." Higgins smiled. "So that Cindy Clawford's spirit can rest easily." He then turned to the girl again, "And you also said I should. . . meditate?"

Ada pat him on the right side of the chest, "That's so your spirit can rest easy, Lesley."

The two blondes in the room exchanged a rather weary look.

Resisting the urge to correct Ada's hand placement (how did she not know that the heart sat to the left?), Rebecca took a step forward to ask after the girl's wellbeing. "Trouble, are you oka--?"

"Ada!" Keeley quickly interrupted. She gave Rebecca a stern look, clearly reprimanding her for thinking to ask such a question. "You're riding with us, aren't you? Private jet? I know you love those warm nuts!"

Ada shook her head, "Um, no, just leaving me bag with you if that's okay? I'm taking the bus."

"The bus?" Rebeca blinked.

"Well, yeah, 'cause the environment and all that. Fucking global waning."

"Warning."

"Yeah. That." The model nodded, giving Higgins one more pat before heading for the door. "I'll see you all there, okay? I'm gonna go check in with the team, maybe tell Ted who to fucking bench."

They watched Ada leave, none of them quite knowing what to make of her.

"I think it's rather admirable that she's becoming zen." Higgins couldn't help but voice. "I, myself, was something similar in the seventies."

His boss slowly twisted her head to face him, eyes still on the open door. She watched as a camera crew made its way up the stairs, all of them looking around in confusion when they found their star nowhere in sight. "Is there something you wanted, Higgins?"

"Just came to greet our newest passenger," The man said pleasantly, lowering his sunglasses to look at Keeley.

"Actually," Rebecca smiled spitefully, "Keeley will be taking your seat on the jet, Higgins."

"Oh."

"Sorry." Keeley awkwardly apologised. She glanced between the tense pair before inching closer to the door. "Um, I'm gonna go spend a penny before we take off. And tell the Vogue people where Ada's gone." She quickly grabbed her suitcase and slung her best friend's light bag over her shoulder. "See you downstairs, Rebecca!"

✷

To say that Coach Beard wasn't an expert in the subject of emotions would be an understatement. He favoured his blank stares and typically kept his feelings to himself, only ever opening up when extremely necessary and only ever falling in love when the other person generally felt less than he did.

But Beard didn't have to know emotions to know his friends. To know that Ted Lasso and Ada Tartt, two of his closest companions, were only a push away from breaking.

He was sat at his desk when the girl finally made her appearance, not having seen her since earlier that morning, when she came in and asked to run a few more drills with the team before they were all due to leave for Liverpool.

Ted glanced up from his laptop screen, interrupting Henry's rant about dinosaurs to greet her. "Hey, Soufflé! Come over here, look who I'm talking to!"

"It's not another online genie, is it? Me financial adviser was super pissed when she noticed I transferred two thousand pounds to Teeny Houdini."

"Teeny Houdini, the genie?" Beard asked, moving his bag so that Ada could walk over to Ted's side of the office.

"Great name, ain't it?" Ted laughed before focusing back on his FaceTime call. "Buddy, look, Ada's here!" He looked at the girl and began stage whispering, "He was asking for you the entire time."

"Dad!" The little boy groaned, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

Ada couldn't help the smile on her face as she leaned closer into view. She took in little Henry; his Tartt shirt and his light hair and his lanky build. It was all rather nostalgic. "Alright, our kid?"

"Hi, Ada." He smiled sheepishly.

Ted let out another laugh. "Oh, hey, almost forgot, son! You know how we're playing Everton tomorrow?"

"Yes." Henry nodded, shifting on the coach so that he could hear his father better.

"Well, that's not a town! It's actually a team in Liverpool!"

"Like the Beatles!"

Ada scoffed, "Echo and the Bunnymen should be the first band that comes to mind when you think of Liverpool. Who raised you?" Her eyes flickered over to a mildly offended Ted when she heard her words back. "Oh, shit, sorry."

Henry blinked at her, making a mental note to look up the group with the funny name before asking his favour. "If you guys see John, Paul, George, or Ringo, will you take a picture, please?"

"Well, that'll be a little tricky seeing as they're dust--"

"Dusty!" Ted yelped, pulling the laptop closer to himself and ensuring that Ada was out of frame. "They're dusty. Their throats. From, um, not singing in a while. But, you got it, big guy! We'll take pictures."

Beard shook his head in mild amusement before gesturing for them to wrap up the call. It was good that they were both in a relatively pleasant mood now. Ted had been anxious since last night, and Ada had clearly woken up tense.

"Okay, hey, me and Ada better get a roll on here, all right?"

"Okay," Henry nodded in understanding. "Mom wants to talk to you, hold on," He went to get her, but paused and turned back to the camera, "Bye, Ada!"

"I'll know if you root for Everton tomorrow, so you better not."

"I won't!" The boy vowed passionately, clearly not catching the teasing lilt in her northern voice. "Mom!"

"I love you, buddy." Ted smiled as Henry darted off to get Michelle.

"I love you, too!"

Ada waited until he was gone before she looking to Ted in disappointment. "You should tell him that there's only two Beatles left. Death is a natural part of life, we must accept it."

"You address your journal entries to the late Lady Diana." Beard frowned.

"Hey!" She snapped. "She was never late to anything, okay? I don't know why that fucking driver was speeding."

Beard blinked.

Ted shook his head lightly, glancing between the model and the empty couch on his screen. He could hear pots clanging, and assumed that Michelle was quickly putting away dishes. He took the lull as an opportunity to voice his concerns.

"Hey, pal," Ted said gently, turning to Ada. "I don't wanna be insensitive or anything, okay? Because I love you."

Ada stared at him, "You what?"

The Coach didn't seem to hear her, continuing with this seemingly prepared speech, "And I don't want you thinkin' that we don't respect the complexities of the beast which we humans have taken to calling emotion, alright?"

Beard watched wearily as Ted set the computer down. It wasn't like he disagreed with the plan to talk to Ada, but wasn't it a bit hypocritical for his best friend to do it when he himself had yet to truly accept the fate of his marriage?

"But, if you're gonna break, which we think is fine and healthy, then I advise you do it here and now. So that we have the time to deal with it in a proper way, alright?" He took in her pinched expression, and mistook it for Ada being mad at the fact that they were rushing her. "It's just that the match is gonna be our main monster this weekend and I hate to say that I won't have time to rock you to sleep."

"Rock me--" Ada quickly shook her head, staring at him incredulously. "When the fuck have you ever done that?"

"Will you break?" Beard's bluntness stunned her. She turned to the man. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he appraised her.

"No." Ada answered firmly, gaze darting between the two men. "I'm fine, okay?"

"Listen--" Ted didn't have time to say anything else, didn't have the chance to lovingly prod and kindly reassure, because his own breaking point finally made its way to the living room, smiling apologetically for her delay as she appeared on screen.

Ada took that as her opportunity to slip away. The players had already changed out of their kits and were all done with their showers by the time she entered the locker room, a few nodding their heads to her in greeting and others avoiding her eyes like she was Miss Trunchbull come to life.

One such person was Colin Hughes.

The girl sighed heavily as she walked the length of the room, headed for her dearest friend. "Colin," She greeted.

"Pass on third." The Welshman nodded hurriedly, quickly standing from the bench.

"Is that my new name?"

Isaac huffed as he neared them, "Ignore him. He's worried."

Ada tensed, Ted's words and Beard's question still ringing in her ears. Worried about what? About her? What was it that everyone was anticipating? That everyone was seeing?

"I mean, we're all worried," The bulky man continued. He sat on the bench and stretched his aching legs out in front him. "About Everton, you know?"

"Oh, yeah," Ada nodded in silent relief. "Fucking Everton."

"Fucking Everton." Colin agreed before looking to Ada. "But, also, you're scaring me."

She winced sheepishly, reaching out to stroke the back of his head. "Sorry, Colly."

"Everton?" Isaac guessed, assuming it was one of the reasons that she, too, was so wound up.

"Fucking Everton."

"All right, gentlemen!" Ted hooted as he walked into the room, a spring in his step as though he hadn't just spent the last two minutes going through divorce papers with his wife. "Who's ready to go show Everton what we got?"

Nobody made a sound. Their gazes were blank and their shoulders were slumped. Richard, ever the dramatic one, ensured that his loud huff echoed in the silence.

And Dani Rojas, ever the optimist, made the bold decision to stand up and let out an excited "Whoo!"

Ada smiled.

"Thank you, Dani." Ted pointed to him. The foreign boy began enthusiastically nodding, and the coach paid it back with a kind grin before turning to whisper to his partner.

"Jeez, Louise," He mumbled to Beard. "Why's everyone so down in the dumps? Did Ada push too hard at practice?"

"Um, yeah, she did." The man nodded. "But, I also think it's something else entirely."

"Hmm, okay, let me see what's going on here." Ted turned back to the rest of the room. "Hey, guys! Seriously, come on. Talk to me. What's up?"

"We're fine." Said Sam, who now stood beside Ada and Colin with a duffel bag cradled to his chest. His mild words and lame shrug were not at all convincing.

"Mm." Ted hummed with a raised eyebrow. "You know, people who say they're fine usually aren't."

Ada rolled her eyes at the obvious dig. She glanced to her left when Isaac started speaking, his weak statement of "Well, I'm alright," being just as unconvincing as Sam's.

"Okay," Ted nodded, eying everyone wearily.

Roy slammed his locker shut, whirling around to face both Americans. His face was flushed and he was tense all over. "We're in a shit fucking mood because we never fucking win at Everton and it sucks fucking shit!"

     Beard blew a raspberry from his place by the whiteboard, shaking his head as he moved to write some things down. Ted was equally disappointed at their lack of hope.

   "Ah, come on, fellas! How long has it been since y'all won up at Everton?"

     The entire team hesitated. Ted knew the answer must have been bad when not even Ada, who was always willing to share facts and recite stats, remained silent.

    It was Colin who eventually spoke, shifting on his feet as he answered. "Sixty years."

     "Jesus Christ." Beard nearly dropped the black marker from his hand.

    "Wow," Ted whistled. "That is heck of a long time. Okay, so we got that going on. And obviously we're bummed out."

    "Hard not to be when the goalie ripped his arsehole." Ada huffed, biting back a laugh when O'Brien turned to glare at her.

    "I pulled a hamstring," He corrected. "And I did it because you made me do the splits."

    She rose her hands defensively when Ted and Beard gaped at her. "I didn't make him do anything! I only said that nobody would anticipate a goalie doing the splits!"

    "Did you apologise?" Beard asked, crossing the name O'Brien from the board.

   Ada turned to the frowning boy. "Sorry you ripped your arsehole, but it wasn't completely my fault." She then turned to Roy. "And I'm sorry you hurt your knee doing that extra lap, but it really pissed me off when you said Oasis wasn't that good of a band."

     Roy blinked. He didn't know what was more surprising; the fact that Ada Tartt chose to apologise for a pain that he had yet to voice out loud, or the fact that a Mancunian was willing to forgive a Londoner's badmouthing of Oasis.

    Ted slowly nodded. "The but really takes away from the apology, don't it?"

    "Butt." The model snorted childishly.

     "Butt." He couldn't help but laugh, too. "O'Brien tore his butt."

     Beard chuckled to himself, writing a small note in red marker which explained that the reason why their usual goalie was out of the game was because he tore his butt.

    "It's my upper hamstring." The young man repeated, visibly annoyed.

    Ted gave him a sympathetic smile. "You tore your butt, son. There's nothing to be ashamed of, okay? It happens. People tear their butts all the time in athletics. You're not alone, man." He turned to his partner. "Coach, you've torn your butt before, right?"

   "Three times."

    "Three times." He echoed, smiling to himself when the whole room, O'Brien included, began laughing. It was good to see them lighten up. "Butt's an amazing muscle. God as my witness, your butt will heal."

    Ada made sure to pat both Colin and Sam on the shoulder before moving away from the lockers and over to where Beard was stood.

   She coyly snatched the marker from between his fingers, speaking as she wrote, "The silver lining is that we can now use our reserve goalie, the man from Montreal who can actually commit to the splits, it's mister. . ." She hesitated.

     Ted shook his head at her. "His name is Zorro. Everyone give it up for Zorro!"

     The dark skinned goalie was quick to correct their pronunciation, a smile on his face as he did so. "It's pronounced Zoreaux."

   "Oh, I'm sorry," Ted apologised. "Zorro."

    "Zoreaux." Richard and Zoreaux corrected once more.

     "You--I don't know what I'm doing wrong here."

     "And I don't know how to fucking spell it, can we use Zorro when writing?" Ada huffed, words muffled as she spoke around the marker in her mouth. Her hands were currently occupied with wiping away her numerous misspellings.

    Roy squinted at one of her attempts –Why did she think to add the letter B to Zorreaux?

     Ted clapped his hands to gain back everyone's attention. "Point is, gentlemen, unless one of y'all got a crystal ball, we don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow. That's why we play the game!"

      "Maybe we should ask Teeny Houdini," Beard whispered conspiratorially in Ada's ear. "I bet he has a crystal ball."

     "Hey," Ted snapped at them, "I can hear you. Stop that. No." He looked back to the confused players. "We play hard! So let me hear it, Richmond on three! One, two, three!"

     Dani Rojas was the only one to yell out, his enthusiastic shout of "Richmond!" sounding rather awkward as it echoed alone.

     Roy huffed, beyond unimpressed. He quickly moved for the door, "Right, come on. Let's go."

     And the captain's mood only worsened when he found three people, one woman and two men, stood impatiently out in the hall.

    "Is Ada Tartt in there?" The woman, a young thing with fair skin and amber hair, asked.

   "No," Roy grit, aggressively brushing past the camera man and the boom operator.

     Diana sighed tiredly, turning to her colleagues. "What the fuck are we even doing?"

     "Should we just go to Everton? Meet her there?" Willas asked. He was perhaps the most tired, having had to lug his giant camera around all of Nelson Road.

     "Fucking Everton."

✷

    It was safe to say that Ada Tartt hadn't calculated the consequences of spending five hours sat next to Dani Rojas. The bus ride, which was already made uncomfortable due to the bumpy road and traffic, was full of unnecessary pep talks and enthusiastic chants and Spanish nursery rhymes. And whilst she would have at least attempted to entertain his antics on any other day, Ada found herself unable to do so now.

    She hadn't slept properly the night before, and had woken up extra early to run voluntary-but-encouraged drills with the team. It also didn't help that reporters had bombarded Ted in the parking lot, asking questions about Jamie Tartt's departure from Richmond.

     And as if Ada needed anything else added onto her plate, the three fucking stooges, Diana and Willas and Louis from Vogue, took the initiative to show up to the hotel before her. They had immediately drawn attention to themselves, what with their cameras and lights and portable makeup table.

   And then Louis, the microphone bitch, thought it was smart to pick up women at the hotel bar by bragging about how he was following Ada Tartt around for the weekend.

    Beard watched as the model had to be brought in through the back door, grimacing to himself as a few stray fans touched her as if to check that she was real.

    "Hey," The man hesitantly greeted, leaning back on the front desk. Nate was currently handing out room keys, advising the players on what not to do during their stay.

     Ada huffed, giving security a brief nod before turning to the coach. "A Weekend with Ada Tartt – why the fuck would anyone want to watch that?"

     Beard wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical or not. He allowed a silence to settle, only answering when she continued blinking at him. "Some people wanna see what Ada Tartt does on her weekends."

    His lame answer did nothing to quell her displeasure. "Why can't they just look? Why do they have to see? Does it make them feel smarter or something, to know every little detail?"

   "Um--"

   But, Ada wasn't done. "And why do people keep fucking touching me? Is that normal human behaviour? Like, has it become socially acceptable now to fucking poke people?"

    She was briefly reminded of how the children in Phoebe's school felt like they had to touch her and Roy. It had been slightly amusing then. Because those were children. Not grown men and women. Not people who were waiting for her to come out of a bus, shaking in anticipation and planning their minor violation of her personal bubble.

    "Are you breaking?" Beard had to ask.

    "No," She sighed tiredly, not bothering to entertain this conversation again as she rubbed a hand over her face. "I'm hungry and I'm tired. That bus ride fucking sucked. I really should've taken the private jet, fuck the environment."

    Ted chose that exact moment to make his way over, having sprinted to the bathroom as soon as he left the bus.

    "Hey now," He softly chided, wrapping an arm around her burdened shoulders. "We love the Earth."

    Ada huffed in exhaustion, taking a second to lean into his embrace. Her eyes lazily tailed Nate as he continued listing the rules, "The hotel furniture stays in the rooms -- not the hallway or the pool. Nor are you allowed to ship it to your homes or other hotels, okay?"

    "Nate," She called out when he was done. "Do you know if Keeley and Rebecca have arrived yet?"

    "Oh, um, I can go check." The kit man offered, face flushing red when she pat his cheek in a show of gratitude. He shoved Ted and Beard's keycards into their hands and quickly made for the only desk to have a concierge behind it.

    Colin snorted.

    Ted briefly glanced at his key before looking to the awaiting players. "Alright, fellas, we got team meal in an hour. After that, it's either gonna be movie night or a pillow fight. What's it gonna be this time around? Come on."

     It was a unanimous vote for movie night, and Ted visibly deflated. "Alright," He sighed. "But I tell you what, y'all say pillow fight one time and we'll never watch another movie together again."

    Ada bit back a laugh as she watched them file out of the lobby. She did not doubt that Ted was right, and found it hilarious that these men truly believed themselves to be above the pleasures of a pillow fight.

    "Whoo!" The moustached coach cheered after checking the number on his key card. "Room fifty-one-fifty! Finally!"

    The model furrowed her eyebrows, "Is that a reference to something?"

    "Um, yeah," He gaped at her. "Have you never heard of Van Halen?"

    "I know that Helen Van Dongen was a Dutch lady who used to edit documentaries in the 1930s." Ada shrugged.

   Ted and Beard exchanged a look. They so badly wanted to chance a look inside her head.

    "It's a band." Beard explained, clearing his throat. He then turned to his partner. "I got room fifty-one-forty-eight."

    "Howdy, neighbour!" They then grinned at each other, tipping their imaginary hats.

    Ada frowned, "Wait, was that another reference?"

   "I'll explain everything when we get to our room. Come on, Soufflé." Ted and Beard shrugged their backpacks back on and made for the elevator.

   "Ted," She winced, shaking her head lightly when he turned back to face her. "Sorry, I thought you knew. I'm bunking with Rebecca."

    "Oh."

    "And, uh, I might miss team meal. Pretty sure she's taking me and Keeley out to dinner later. I gotta save room." She pat herself on the gut for emphasis.

  It was Beard who voiced the next Oh.

  Ada's eyes darted between them. She took in their slumped shoulders and their pathetic frowns. For a moment, she found herself longing for her past self. The one that would have scoffed at their childish display. The one that would have pointed out that they were lucky she even made the trip to Liverpool – she wasn't even getting paid, and her own job was already making enough demands of her this weekend.

    But Ada wasn't that Ada anymore. The one from four months ago. The one that kept forgetting Sam Obisanya's name and didn't know that Nate Shelley had a niece. The Ada that stopped talking to Colin and Isaac. The one that bore a jealous resentment for her brother. The one that didn't eat cake. The one that hated ice cream. And sleepovers. And Roy Kent.

   "I can make it to movie night, though." She found herself shrugging, breathing a tad easier when they both smiled at her. "But it better not be a fucking comedy, alright? You never pick the funny ones."

    Ted waved a hand, "Different cultures, different humour."

     "Understatement." Ada snorted. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard her name being called. Nate was giving her a thumbs up, letting her know that Rebecca and Keeley were, in fact, waiting for her in the suite. "Alright, I'll see you later."

    "Don't forget your friends." Beard reminded her, pointing to the trio sat on a couch. The filming equipment was lying on the floor in front of them, and they seemed to be keeping themselves occupied; Diana was staring at herself in a compact mirror, Willis was making a face as he sipped at the free champagne, and Louis was fighting to stay awake.

    "Oh, for fuck's sake."

    Ted grinned at her, "It's cool that you got your own little camera crew. Like an episode of The Office, ain't it? And I am, of course, referring to the American version."

    "Yeah," Ada rolled her eyes, choosing to leave before the three could notice. "This'll be that episode where Michael jumps from the fucking roof."

     "He doesn't actually jump." Beard felt like he had to point out.

     "Let me jump." She jokingly begged, walking backwards.

     "Let me jump," Sam Obisanya begged, not so jokingly, after he and Roy finally made it to their shared room.

    The captain groaned. It was times like these where he truly felt his age – but, then again, not even at twenty years old did Roy Kent ever ask for permission to jump on the bed. Nor did he ever actually feel the desire to do so. He had always been the sort of athlete that took care of his body, and jumping on a bouncy mattress brought risks of falling off or pulling a muscle or hurting your knee.

So why do it?

    "Fucking watch tv or something." He ordered for what felt like the hundredth time (it was only the second).

     Sam sighed, but did as he was bid. The boy laid back on his bed, head propped up by the many pillows, and began flicking through channels. News and weather and low budget sitcoms.

    "Liverpool's club scene is out of this world!"

     The Nigerian boy gaped at the television, his finger hovering over the button on the remote as a familiar face appeared on screen. From his place by the minibar, Roy quickly turned to look.

    It was an advertisement of some sort. Ada Tartt was wearing a rather revealing outfit, no doubt picked out for her by someone else. Her makeup was glittery and her lips were glossy. She was clearly in a studio, but loud music was playing over her pre-recorded vocals and flashing lights were added to the video in post editing to make it look like she was in a night club.

    "Is this live?" Sam asked rather dumbly, a smile growing on his face as he watched his friend list off local clubs.

    Roy took the video in. No, it very clearly wasn't live. And he personally thought it was rather obvious that the video wasn't recent either. Ada's hair was shorter. Her face was thinner. This must have been shot when she was still living in Hertfordshire, but post leg injury. He knew that because Ada Tartt would never accept such a gig if she were playing for Arsenal.

    When Ada played football, that was all she ever did.

    Roy didn't say any of that, though. He just shook his head and gave the shortest answer possible; "Old. Short hair."

    "You can grow it longer, Roy." Sam shrugged, eyes never leaving the screen. He laughed when Ada made a rather inappropriate joke about what happens in a club's bathroom, and leaned forward in intrigue when she started recommending different karaoke bars.

    "I wasn't talking about me," The older man grit, eye twitching. "The video is old. Her hair is short."

    Sam slowly turned to face Roy, an apologetic look on his face. "Ah, I am so sorry, my friend." He then glanced back at the television. "I suppose Ada does look different. And she sounds different as well."

    Roy's answer was immediate, "It's the accent. They always make her do a southern one in adverts."

     Sam blinked. He had actually been setting up a joke with his last observation. Had planned to say that Ada Tartt sounded very different when she wasn't swearing.

    He wondered if he, too, would've noticed the accent change had he been bred English.

Or was that more a Roy Kent thing?

     He glanced at his captain from the corner of his eye, and took note of the fact that he was now sat on the small couch by the television. Roy's bottle of water was forgotten on top of the minibar, and the book which he had opened in order to look busy now lay abandoned on his lap.

     His eyes were on Ada Tartt.

    (Where his mind always seemed to be.)

"But she was still pretty." The Nigerian said, genuine with his words but sneaky with his intention.

Sam grinned when Roy only rolled his eyes and picked his book back up.

That wasn't a no.

✷

    "Fuck's she doing here?"

     The three women turned as the suite door swung opened and as Ada's nagging voice filled the room.

Keeley glanced at London Abara, who seemed less than impressed with her client's behaviour. "I invited her," She confessed with a wide smile. "We had an open seat on the jet and she wanted to come support the team!"

"I'm here to make sure you don't screw up that Vogue Weekend video."

The model rolled her eyes, kicking the door closed with her foot. "Yeah, well, they said they were gonna nap real quick." She lied, walking further in the room. "Probably tired after all the filming we did today."

London didn't appear convinced, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at Ada. Sometimes the twenty three year old behaved like a senior citizen, and other times she acted like an absolute toddler.

"Right," Rebecca cleared her throat, hoping to break up the stare off, "Why don't you three get settled in that room over there while I get us some drinks and snacks? Something light to hold us over until dinner tonight?"

Normally, Ada would have complained and called Rebecca an absolute witch for forcing all three of them into one room whilst keeping an entire one to herself, but she knew what tomorrow was. Had known for a while, actually, that Rupert and Rebecca's anniversary was coming up. It was one of the few reasons she even bothered coming on this trip, not wanting her friend to feel alone. Not wanting her to spend this weekend hauled up in a hotel with her ex husband's football team. The same hotel they had spent their last anniversary in.

Keeley and London exchanged a vaguely surprised look when Ada moved towards their assigned room, seemingly keeping her complaints to herself.

    "Don't order anything fishy, Bex." She called over her shoulder.

Rebecca smiled. And guilt bubbled in her belly like a flesh melting acid.

     A little while later, after Ada and London spent twenty or so minutes fighting over who got the bed by the window and who got to use the bathroom first (both those privileges went to Keeley by default), the three women ended up on the couch,  flicking through the television.

    "Oh, leave this on!" London clapped. "I love the Golden Girls."

     Ada groaned, "No, Keeley, it's boring. If I wanted to watch old people live their lives then I'd just follow Roy Kent around."

     "You do follow Roy Kent around." The blonde snorted.

      Ada and London turned to her, both of them equally confused. Keeley cleared her throat, changing the channel once more. She was put in charge of the remote, and they weren't allowed to watch anything unless the vote was unanimous.

     London huffed as she watched Betty White and Estelle Getty disappear from the screen.

    Ada smiled a smug little smile.

"Liverpool's club scene is out of this world!"

    Her smile dropped as quickly as it came.

     "Oh, what the fuck?"

     "Girls," Rebecca called from the other room, "Do we already know where we're going tonight? Or should I ask the concierge to make us a reservation somewhere?"

    "Randy'z Good Time is perfect for a night of salsa."

     The older woman furrowed her eyebrows, pulling the phone away from her ear and covering the mouthpiece. "Salsa is not dinner, Trouble!"

   "If you're looking for a spicy night, head over to Casa Bellydance!"

     "Um, I'm going to call you back. The girl I'm babysitting is acting odd." Rebecca said in a polite enough voice before hanging up. She quickly moved over to the room, taking in the sight before her; a fascinated Keeley, a wheezing London, and a frowning Ada were all staring at the tv.

     "Didn't you break up with that nice Indian boy because he refused to take you to restaurants that served anything but spicy food? What is this Bellydance Casa you want to go to?"

      "Casa Bellydance." London managed to correct her mid-laugh.

     Still confused, Rebecca walked closer. And it was only then that she noticed what they were watching. Ada, or rather, television Ada, was still recommending nightlife destinations, but she was now doing it from behind a DJ turntable. She was clicking at random buttons on the mixer, clearly not knowing what she was doing.

     "Oh, my God." Rebecca muttered.

     It didn't even look like Ada Tartt. Not really, at least. Hairstyle aside (how did she get it to stand up like that at the back?), the girl on the screen seemed much smaller. No doubt she was still recovering from her accident. No doubt she'd lost her appetite after the whole ordeal. No doubt the constant partying wasn't doing her any favours.

    It was different from the campaigns she did nowadays. The professional ones shot on expensive cameras. The ones where she looked put together and sharp, albeit less enthusiastic. The ones that played everywhere; market squares and media platforms and even on the fucking tube.

    And neither of them was quite like the ads she used to be in before; the ones that would constantly play during the women's cup or during major sporting events. The ones where Ada Tartt was smiling and encouraging little girls to start playing. Advising young women to stick to it so that they, too, could make it big.

    It was almost sad, how different they all were. How different this particular one was.

    But that didn't make it any less funny.

     Rebecca bit her bottom lip to hold back her own giggle. Keeley was the same. London was unabashed.

    "What are you doing with your hands?"

    Ada squeezed her eyes shut, groaning loudly as her onscreen self began throwing up peace signs. She looked like Ringo Starr, but without the necessary softness to make the gesture charismatic.

    "Liverpool has much to offer! Pubs and clubs and festivals galore! Drop the kiddos off at karaoke and see for yourself!"

    "Kiddos?" London laughed.

     "Galore?" Keeley mumbled. "Why do you sound so different?"

     "It's me fucking accent," Ada groaned. "Isn't it fucking obvious? They never let me keep it in these stupid adverts you two keep booking me!"

      Her manager quickly shook her head, "Um, no, I didn't book this gig!"

    "I don't even remember doing this one." Ada mumbled.

     Rebecca sighed, snatching the remote from Keeley and switching the television off. "Right, enough. This weekend is moving forward. When that champagne arrives, I am going to get drunk. Ada, you will knock yourself out on Maltesers. And then the four of us will have a nice meal, and leave the past in the past. Sound good?"

    Ada stared at the black screen for a moment longer. It took her the length of breath to fully come to. But, when she did, she gripped Rebecca's hand in hers and gave a firm nod. "Sounds fucking amazing."

    "Oi, oi!" Keeley grinned. "Girls trip!"

      A knock sounded on the door, and Rebecca offered the three women a smile and a wink before she went to answer it.

    "Hello, Stinky."

     Ada titled her head to see what was going on outside the room. She watched as a woman, confident in her strut and familiar in her speak, began looking around the suite.

    "Still giving you the big room even without old gray walnuts footing the bill." She mused. "Good! Fuck Rupert!"

    Ada and Keeley exchanged a look, already in love with this stranger.

      Having caught their quiet laughter, the tall brunette turned around. "Oh, who's this then? Got yourself three concubines?"

     "One for each hole." Ada winked.

     "Ha!" She snorted crassly, moving closer with a newfound curiosity in her eyes. "You sound English. Always thought Rebecca would be into Russians." The woman turned to Keeley, "Are you Russian?"

    Keeley grinned, quickly standing up from the couch. "A, I love you. B, who are you?"

    Rebecca took the opportunity to formally introduce her, seemingly emotional. Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, "Let me introduce Flo Collins, my best mate since we were little. Brilliant child psychologist and proud newly single mother to the most amazing twelve year old little girl called Nora. My goddaughter."

    "Thought I was your favourite twelve year old girl." The model pursed her lips as everyone turned to look at her. "Yeah, no, sorry I didn't hear the words until after I said them."

    London rolled her eyes, turning to Flo as she gestured to Ada. "You said you were a child psychologist, yeah?"

     The woman snorted again. She was thoroughly entertained by this beautiful motley crew.

   Rebecca was also amused, but all it took was another glance at her childhood best friend for her to go back to being emotional. "I've completely neglected both of them in the last six years," She mumbled, referring to Flo and Nora.

    "Oh, Jesus, Stinky. Remind me to bury you in the set list for speeches at my funeral."

    "I write a good fucking eulogy," Ada shrugged. "I mean, none of the dead people complained."

   Flo stared at her for a moment. She then snapped her fingers, inching even closer to further inspect the young woman. "That's where I know you from."

    "A funeral?"

    "You're Ada Tartt."

     "Oh, yeah," She pointed to her own face with a sarcastic grin. "The girl from those Liverpool club adverts."

    Keeley laughed, wrapping an arm around her best friend and giving her a small shake.

    "I was gonna say from Arsenal, but, fuck, yeah, love those ads. How did you get your hair to stand up that way in the back?"

    "Sassy," Rebecca tutted amusedly. She ran a hand over Ada's hair.

    "I meant in the fucking advert." She defended before reaching her hand out for Ada to shake. "I'm Flo. Or you can call me Sassy. I don't care which."

    Sassy then shook hands with Keeley and London, the latter making it known that she wasn't the one to book that ridiculous nightlife gig.

    "So, you heard about the divorce?"

    Rebecca winced, empathetic. "Yeah. I bumped into Darren at a party. He told me right after he hit on me."

   "Hey, what's new?" Sassy shrugged. "Still, weird order for him to roll out that information." She then clapped her hands and glanced at all the ladies in the room. "Right, so, what's the plan for tonight then? Shall I call down, get myself a robe? Or are me and Ada fucking Tartt rebelling against your nude dictatorship?"

    It was only then that Ada realised she was the only one out of her three companions to be robe-less. She looked up from her outfit when Sassy suddenly pulled a bottle of champagne out of her bag.

    "Oh! Look what I got! Stole it off a room service trolley outside."

    "You're amazing!" Keeley exclaimed like a starstruck child.

    "Eh, she's alright." Ada shrugged, only to then be whacked in the face by a red bag full of chocolate balls. "Maltesers! How the fuck did you know?"

    "You're Ada Tartt."

     "And you're amazing!"

     And what was more amazing was that the hotel was selling Maltesers by the fucking bulk. The giant bag that Rebecca ordered, which Sassy later stole and gifted like a leather-clad Robin Hood, was still full by the time Ada showed up for movie night.

    And even more amazing than that? Ted and Beard's audacity.

     "The Iron Giant?" Ada scoffed as she made her over to the table where the two of them sat with Nate. They were huddled over a tablet, drawing out plays and going over Everton's lineup.

    Ted smiled at her, dragging a free chair over from the other table so that she could sit next to him. "Hey, Soufflé!"

    "The Iron Giant," She repeated, falling into the chair and popping three chocolates into her mouth. "The only movie that makes me cry? That's what you're playing?"

    Nate furrowed his brows, "Did Titanic never make you cry?"

    "Just made me horny, to be honest."

     Nate burned red, his eyes immediately looking back to the tablet.

   Roy shifted in his seat behind them.

    Ada caught the movement from the corner of her eye and had to bite back a grin.

    "You said no comedy." Beard shrugged. "We thought you liked this movie."

    He and Ted met eyes.

    Okay, so, maybe they were trying to get her a little bit emotional. Not enough to trigger a breakdown, but enough to poke a whole in the dam – so that when it inevitably broke, there'd be less of a flood and more of a. . . heavy spillage.

   "Yeah, okay," Ada scoffed, unconvinced. "Why don't you talk me through the plays again? And, um, if you're criticising, keep it quiet." She subtly gestured to Roy who was sitting closest to the table.

     Ada doubted that he chose that specific seat with the intention to eavesdrop (wasn't it so like Roy Kent to sit alone in the last row?), but she did find it rather funny that he used every opportunity available to broaden his knowledge. To become a better player. To learn about his team; incorporate everyone's flaws and talent into his own personal play.

    She supposed they were alike in that regard.

    They were still very different, though. Because Ada somehow knew that if Roy were in her current position, he wouldn't be using this opportunity to childishly mock her.

   But that was what made Ada Ada.

   "Can I go first?"

    "Hm?" Ted asked.

     "To criticise the players, can I go first?" She made sure to speak clearly so that Roy would hear, swallowing the last bit of chocolate in her mouth and sitting up straighter.

    "Oh, well, we're not really--"

     "Ask me what my favourite Roy Kent goal is."

     The man was very confused now. He looked to Nate and Beard, but they also seemed to have missed it when she'd gestured to Roy earlier.

    "Um," Beard shrugged. "What's your favourite Roy Kent goal?"

    Ada cheesed like a child, "What, you mean on the rare occasion that he actually scores?"

    Nate was the only one to laugh. And his amusement was clearly exaggerated in an effort to boost his friend's ego. The girl appreciated it. Ted gave him a look before turning to Ada and giving her one was well.

    "Hey, be serious," He chided. "Am I cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs for thinking that we can beat these guys tomorrow?"

    There was a sort of anxiety underlying his words. A need for reassurance. The girl straightened in her seat, sobering up as she held her hand out for the tablet. Beard didn't hesitate to pass it over to her. The three men watched as she drew a red line with her pointer finger, right between Richmond and Everton's lineups.

    "You're not crazy, Ted." Ada mused, taking a solid moment to move names around on both lists before eventually turning the tablet to face them. To each player from Richmond there was a player on Everton to match them in rank and skill. "We match up perfectly. There's a fucking chance."

    Ted stared at her work for a few seconds, a small smile on his face. "Thank you."

    "Yeah." Ada shrugged his gratitude off. She popped another Malteser in her mouth and stood. "I'm gonna go watch the movie for a bit."

    Beard raised an amused eyebrow, "Thought you didn't want to cry."

   "Thought that wasn't why you put it on."

     Ted and Beard smiled innocently, and Ada did nought but lightly roll her eyes at them before approaching the many rows of seats. She was sure there was an unoccupied chair somewhere near the middle, but the empty one at the back was calling out to her.

    Like how that treadmill did a few days ago.

(She couldn't blame it on adrenaline anymore.)

    Roy didn't spare her a single glance as she slid into the chair to his right. Ada watched from the corner of her eye as he stiffened, gaze firmly on the screen.

    Biting back an amused smile, she held out the bag of chocolate. To apologise for her brilliant joke. A truce, maybe. She shook the bag rather loudly when he didn't move to take one, annoying Winchester who sat a few seats in front of them.

   "Shh!" Tommy hissed over his shoulder.

     "You better take one, Roy," She whispered. "I'm scared he might come back here and beat us up."

    The captain wasn't planning on giving in, but he noticed many others shifting at the irritating sound of crinkling plastic. He clenched his jaw and reached his hand into the bag. She closed it around his fingers.

    Roy glared.

    Ada smiled.

    She struggled not to laugh, and he was quick to snatch his hand back when her grip accidentally loosened.

    "Fucking child." He blindly popped a Malteser in his mouth, and immediately grimaced.

    "You're joking." Ada huffed, watching his disgusted expression instead of the film. "You hate Oasis and you hate Maltesers -- I bet you kill sheepdogs and beat up English children in your free time."

   "Only if they deserve it." Roy grinned sarcastically, still facing forward.

   "I really hope you mean the children."

    Roy was still adjusting to the realisation that Ada Tartt was funny. He always knew that she was amazing at football, both the theory and the practical. That she was beautiful, yes, sure, fine. And smart when she wanted to be. But funny? He supposed it had been hard to appreciate her wit when all her jokes had been aimed at him, and even harder still to laugh when her funniest anecdotes were ones that she fed other people.

   Roy would only ever overhear them.

   Now here she was, choosing to sit and share her humour with him. And share her rank chocolate, too.

    "I don't hate Oasis." He grunted when she made no move to say anything else. "I just fucking preferred other. . . shit."

   Ada almost smiled at this sudden desire to  converse, but found her curiosity taking precedence over her amusement. "Let me guess, Londoner. You were a Blur man."

    Roy shrugged, "Not really."

    "Pulp?"

    Another shrug.

    "Look at me," She said. Roy rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, but turned his head a bit. Not enough to completely face her, but enough that she could look into both his eyes without having to move in her chair. Ada studied him for moment, pretending that her methods of deduction were far more serious than they actually were.

    In truth, she was simply thinking of a name that she had yet to mention.

    "Oh, I got it," Ada nodded with the smugness which Tartts were notorious for. "I got it and I'm so fucking right."

   "Fucking go on then." He said with another eye roll. But it lacked any venom. And the corner of mouth shook slightly as he bit back a smile.

    "The Stone Roses."

     He didn't verbally answer, just turned to look back at the projected screen and lightly shook his head in disbelief. Ada caught the slight grin ghosting his mouth.

    From the corner of his eye, Roy watched her shrug, still quite smug. And seemingly very impressed with herself.

   (Ada didn't know it was his favourite British group. Didn't think it would be, either. They were her simply her own favourite band to ever come out of Manchester. She supposed they were alike in that regard as well.)

    Back at the table, Nate, Ted, and Beard were still going over Ada's list. They had initially done so in order to further reassure themselves, but ended up googling the point average of each player to see if the girl had lied – not because they thought her malicious, but because who didn't occasionally make things up to comfort others?

The points all added up. Her exact ranking was precise. Her selected pairings were accurate. Her spelling was a mess, but what did that matter, really?

    "How'd she do that?" Nate mumbled.

    "Who knows?" Ted shrugged, a proud grin on his face. He turned to the kit man, sliding the tablet back over to Beard. "What about you, Nate? You believe these guys can win?"

     "I believe this team can do anything." Nate answered honestly.

     "See? There you go. That's what I'm talking about." The coach nodded, rubbing hands together. "Okay, Nate. So if you were me, what would you tell these guys?"

    "Oh, no. I wouldn't--no, I dont--"

     "Hey," Ted scooted closer and switched his tone of voice from eager to soothing. "I'm just asking for your opinion. Same way I do with Ada. Same way Beard and I do to each other all the time. You understand that, yeah?"

"Yeah."

    "And you got an opinion, yes?"

    "Yeah." Nate nodded again, eyes darting over to Beard. The other coach was sat back in his seat, munching on a single chocolate that he somehow managed to snag.

   Ted leaned closer, "Locked and loaded and ready to rip?"

     "Mm-hmm."

    The moustached man grinned, gesturing for him to go on, "Let me hear it."

    "No."

   "Why not?" He frowned. "What are you afraid's gonna happen if you tell me?"

    "That you won't like my idea and it makes you hate me. Then you fire me. Then I have to move back in with my parents and they'll be ashamed of me. Then everyone finds out back home and laughs at me until my face melts off."

     Beard blinked, "Wow."

"Okay," Ted slowly nodded. "Okay, yeah. No opinions on helping out the team. That's fine. That's fine." He then glanced over his shoulder. "How about an opinion on helping out a friend?"

    The kit man hesitantly followed his line of sight.

Ted wanted Nate to voice his opinion on Ada Tartt's wellbeing?

The coaches watched as Nate ran out of the auditorium, door slamming open and shut as he went. The loud sound pulled Ada from the film. She turned her head back, blinking in mild surprise when she found Ted and Beard staring at her rather intently.

Upon noticing that they'd managed to somehow garner her attention, the men began smiling and waving. It was all very fucking suspicious, especially because Ada couldn't remember ever seeing Beard use his teeth to smile.

"Weird fucks." She mumbled to herself. It was as the words left her mouth that Ada's phone starting ringing in her pocket. The ringer had been set to a low volume, but the Hamilton instrumental, which was reserved for a specific person alone, was still loud enough for both her and Roy to hear.

He huffed, head lolling away from the film to give her an annoyed look.

"Sorry," She whispered, putting the phone to her ear. "Colin?"

"Ada, it's happening."

She didn't bother telling him that he could've simply texted her. Or that she would have easily understood if he had waved his hand around from his place in the middle row. Instead, the girl mumbled her thanks and hung up.

Suddenly, Ted and Beard's behaviour made sense. A few minutes ago, Ada had texted Colin, who had watched The Iron Giant more times than anyone could count, and had asked him to warn her before the film took a sad turn.

The model pocketed her phone and stood up.

"You're leaving halfway through a movie." Roy said in a rather bland tone.

She leaned down pick up her bag, pausing before she could fully rise. Her face was close to Roy's, a teasing expression tainting her features. "Figured I'd let you cry in peace."

Roy watched as Ada threw on her crossbody satchel, the hem of her baby tee rising just enough for him to catch sight of her stick and poke tattoo. It was a new addition. Black ink stood stark against the tanned flesh of her hipbone.

"I don't cry." He grit out.

She sighed at him as if he were a naive child, strands of wheat blonde hair catching in her eyes as she shook her head at him. "Everyone cries, Kent."

"Do you?"

Ada gave him a small smile, shaking her head again, softer this time.

"No."

  

✷

   Ada Tartt truly believed that there were very few things in the world that could compete with genuine, blissful laughter. And one of those things was the laughter shared between women. And this group in particular, this collection of women who all varied in age and background, was certainly a good fucking time.

    "Right," Sassy continued, raising her voice to speak over the giggles. "So, I hadn't prepared anything – not the brightest idea for a maid of honour."

    Ada leaned over Keeley to swipe a breadstick from London's plate, ignoring her manager's sharp look as she used the stick to point between Rebecca and Sassy. "Not the brightest idea for a bride to name you maid of honour, either."

    Rebecca laughed, wine nearly shooting out her nose.

    Sassy gave Ada a wink, "There was an open bar, too."

     "Yes," Rebecca sighed, "She was the star of the weekend."

     "And I gave Elton John a boner!"

      Keeley leaned forward in her seat, scandalised and foaming at the mouth for details. "You did what?"

     "No, you didn't!"

      "Yes, I did!"

     Rebecca and Sassy went back and forth for a bit before the former turned to address the table, wagging a finger in her best friend's direction. "He has repeatedly denied that!"

     "Ah," Sassy waved her off, "Classic case of she said, she said, innit?"

     They all laughed. Keeley leaned her head on London's shoulder, the two of them shaking with mirth.

   "Would you ladies like another bottle?" Their waiter gracefully interrupted. He was a handsome young man, with a kind smile and warm eyes.

    Ada teasingly shook her head at him, "Do any of them look like they need another bottle?"

    "Perhaps not," He glanced around the table, polite smile broadening and chiselled cheeks reddening as he locked eyes with Rebecca Welton. "A little dessert perhaps?"

    Ada and Sassy shared a look.

   The older of the two decided to take her turn first, "My sexy and extremely single friend here actually prefers her desserts on the larger side."

    "And nothing soft," Ada interjected. "She likes to still feel it in her gut come morning."

    "If you could possibly accommodate." Sassy nodded, excitedly nudging the model under the table when the waiter smirked to himself.

    London shut her eyes, holding in a bout of explosive laughter. Keeley gaped at them. So, too, did Rebecca.

     "I'll give you a few minutes." He finally said, picking up their empty glasses to take back to the kitchen.

    "Only?" Ada scoffed.

    "Thank you," Rebecca spoke hurriedly, "Sorry."

    Ada watched him leave. "Why are you apologising? He just said he only lasts a few minutes."

The model briefly wondered if she should try setting Rebecca up with an athlete. They were known for their stamina and for their ability to focus. Ada would fucking know, she'd only ever slept with people who were involved in sports. And she herself was an athlete.

     "I cannot believe you two just did that." The woman shook her head.

   "Oh, shut up! You love it!" Sassy laughed, reaching over for her handbag. "Right, I'm going for a smoke. Stinky?"

    Rebecca raised her hand, "No. Don't smoke anymore." She gave Ada a look. "It's bad for me."

     "I'm trying to quit." The model rolled her eyes. "I'll come, Sass."

     Ada and Sassy exchanged their fifth look of the evening as they walked out of the restaurant, this one just as mischievous as the other two.

    "You already quit smoking, didn't you?" The older brunette asked.

   "Oh, yeah, I just can't tell her because how else am I supposed to skip out on paying the bill?"

    Their laughter caught the attention of Ted Lasso, who was only now realising how distinct Ada Tartt's laugh was – deeper than the average woman's in some parts, and higher than a bat's own chirping in others. He turned away from the concierge to greet her, forcing a smile on his previously solemn face.

    "Soufflé, can you believe these folks ain't got a fax machine?" Ted called out to her. He pointed to the man behind the desk, who Ada assumed was calling around in search of this mystical sounding fax machine.

    "Fuck's that?"

     Sassy's elbow nudged her in the gut, "Introduce me, you little shit."

"Oh, yeah, um," Ada blinked, "Right, Ted, this is me new friend Sassy. Sassy, this is me. . . well, I mean, it's fucking Ted, innit?"

Ted sported his polite smile as he reached out to shake the beautiful woman's hand. "Sassy, huh? Like the Smurf, right?"

"Don't think there was a Sassy Smurf, no?" She smiled.

Ada watched them in amusement, not having seen Sassy this tame since meeting her. It was also good to see that Ted's previous anxieties about the match were temporarily quelled.

She chose to speak when the pair continued doing nothing but smiling and shaking hands. "No, there was no Sassy Smurf. He probably made up, like he did with the Fucks machine."

Sassy snorted, dropping her hand. "It's a fax machine," She corrected before turning back to Ted. "Are you sending something to the year 1997 by any chance?"

He nodded, smile still in place. "Yeah, just a little note to myself telling me to buy Apple stock."

"Oh, good idea." Sassy nodded. She ignored Ada's knowing glances as she continued to flirt with the man before her. "Can you tell me to murder J.K. Rowling and write the first Harry Potter book as well?"

"Can do. Yeah. I'll probably write handle instead of murder, though, so that there's no paper trail."

"Right," The concierge interrupted, clearing his throat as he put down the phone. "We no longer have a fax machine on the premises, but the other concierge was able to locate one at a tanning salon eight miles away in Croxteth."

"Hmm." Ted slowly nodded. He glanced at Ada. "You know this tanning place?"

"Excuse you? You think this tan is fucking fake? I fly out to get some sun." The model scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

The man at the desk stared at her, eyes widening as he realised who she was. Ted was sure to speak before the concierge could say anything that would annoy or further offend Ada. "You know what? That's okay. I'm just gonna hit this manicurist nearby that has carrier pigeons. Thank you, though."

Sassy chuckled, rolling her eyes when Ada teasingly nudged her. The woman then glanced at her watch. "Bet Rebecca's got the bill, should we go?"

But Ada couldn't go. Not when she noticed how quickly Ted's smile dropped when he thought nobody was looking. And how his hands were trembling before he shoved them in his pocket. And how the bone of his jaw would occasionally pulse like a beating organ.

"Um, you go ahead, alright?" She smiled, turning to her new friend. "Let me know if she's actually paid. I'm just gonna talk to Ted for a minute."

The coach raised a curious brow, but made sure to give Sassy a kind smile and gentle nod as a parting gesture. He looked to Ada when it was just the two of them, the hotel employee having disappeared into the back room.

"You alright, pal?"

Ada stared for him a moment before sighing. "What's the fax machine for?"

"Oh, well, when you want to send digital information to be printed--"

"No, yeah, I got that." She interrupted, having gotten the gist from his back and forth with Sassy. "What do you need it for?"

The way that his smile slightly faltered was enough of an answer for Ada.

She knew that he and Michelle were getting divorced. He had told her that night on the bench, after he watched his family leave. Had told her that it was for the best. That it was the right thing to do. Ted hadn't mentioned it since then, but she knew that his broken marriage haunted him. That it plagued his every thought and dampened his every smile.

Ada also suspected that he and Michelle had discussed it earlier that morning, when she slipped out of his office and into the locker room. She'd taken note of the bulky envelope he'd been carrying around; before training and to the bus and around the lobby.

"Look," She continued before he could answer. There was no point in making him speak the words that not doubt pained him. "Remember when you said you love me and you dont want me to break before the match?"

"Are you saying you love me, too?" He smiled teasingly, pain still lingering in his pools of brown.

"Oh, God no," Ada scoffed as she squeezed his shoulder with one hand and placed the other on the right side of his chest. "But, we're gonna win tomorrow. And you can have a little cry afterwards, and tell everyone its tears of joy, but only after the match can you break, alright? And once that's done, you're gonna start winning every single day – on and off the fucking pitch."

Ted could only smile at her. And then he took her palm and placed it in the correct position; the left side of his chest, where his heart writhed in pain but beat with adoration for the young woman before him.

"Alrighty."

Sassy watch them curiously from her place by the door, tilting her head softly for a moment before entering the restaurant once more.

"Where's Stinky gone?" She asked Keeley, approaching the table. "And your friend, London? Have they abandoned you?"

The blonde glanced up from her phone. "No, Rebecca went to pee, and London got a call from Vogue."

Sassy laughed, sliding into her seat. "Funny how casually you say that."

Keeley laughed, too, shrugging. It was rather surreal, she supposed. How she'd gone from a young woman trying to make it big to then being best friends with one of England's most talked about stars. She also dated said star's famed twin brother, but Keeley preferred not to thing about that.

"Where does Stinky come from, by the way?" She then asked, taking a sip from her cup of red.

"I remember the day she moved into out town," The other woman sighed. She sat up in her seat, as if she were about to recount the history of the universe. "She was already taller than me, had bigger boobs. Her family was rich. So, first day of year seven, I told everyone her nickname was Stinky."

"That's genius," Keeley giggled. She raised her glass, making it kiss Sassy's as they toasted. "To Rebecca."

Sassy's smile no longer met her eyes as she sat her wine down. "Yeah, that's not Rebecca. No, the real Rebecca is silly." She shook her head lightly. "Strong, yeah, but not cold. Have you ever heard her sing?"

"No," The blonde mumbled softly.

"Yeah, well, if you love that woman, you're gonna love Rebecca."

And Keeley didn't doubt it. She remembered hearing of Rebecca from Ada, and remembered how she thought the tales had to have been fictitious after finally meeting the woman.

The reminder of her own best friend had Keeley look around the restaurant. "Where's Ada?"

"Oh, she's out there with the hot Marlboro man."

"Ted?" She laughed. "Oh, then she'll definitely be a while."

Sassy thought about the funny story Ada had told during dinner, the one about her mother's boyfriend who had called the fire department after burning a gingerbread house. Ada said the man an absolute dope, but that he was a sweetheart. And that he treated her mother well.

The woman wondered if that was who Ted was. Her mother's sweet boyfriend. Or rather, ex boyfriend, seeing as the model didn't seem to mind their obvious flirting. It explained why Ada struggled with introducing him, and why they were so close – almost like father and daughter.

"She's super nice, Ada Tartt." Sassy then voiced. "A cheeky menace, too. You'd never think so."

"Yeah, well, if you love that girl then you're gonna love the real Ada."

Sassy raised an eyebrow, curious. She noticed that the look in Keeley's eyes was more accepting than pained, and took the opportunity to ask about it.

"How long?"

The blonde sighed, downing the rest of her drink. "Almost a year, maybe. But then she came back. This week, she's sort of between worlds."

"Is it worse this time?"

Keeley immediately shook her head. She definitely didn't think her best friend was worse – didn't even think she was doing that badly, to be honest. Especially not when compared to before. That Ada was broken. Now, she was only fractured.

"No, I think she just feels more nowadays." Keeley said. "Makes it harder to act indifferent, you know? To ignore the hurt."

Sassy's eyes wandered over to the open door behind Keeley, where Ada Tartt was still talking to Ted Lasso. They appeared to have entered a lighter territory of conversation, joking and laughing.

The model didn't look hurt. Not to Sassy, at least.

"Well, that means she'll break sooner. Heal quicker."

Keeley nodded, "Yeah."

"Can't wait to meet her, then."

Out in the lobby, Ted and Ada were playing a game of impressions to pass the time. He'd already scolded her for purposely dodging the bill, and she'd reminded him that the reason she was now being stingy with her money was because he had insisted on paying for multiple sessions with Teeny Houdini, the online scamming genie.

"Oh no," Ted whispered in fear as his eyes trailed over Ada's shoulder.

"Um," She squinted in thought. "Okay, you look like you're about to piss your pants. Is it Nate?" Ada shook her head. "No, no, that's too obvious. Colin. No, Higgins! That's my final answer. It's Lesley Higgins."

"Ada. . ."

The model scoffed. "Um, no. Definitely not. I am never that fucking afraid."

Ted began pointing over her shoulder rather aggressive. Confused, Ada turned, and it was as if the universe were to trying to prove that she could, in fact, be that fucking afraid.

There was a fire in London's eyes as she marched over. The flames colouring her pupils were all-knowing. And the scowl on her face was a perfect mix of disappointed, tired, and angry.

Diana, Willas, and Louis were behind her, struggling to catch up.

"Hey, you guys finally woke up! How was the nap?"

The trio looked to Ada Tartt in confusion. And her manager, who had just gotten off the phone with Vogue's media executive, was beyond unimpressed.

✷

Ada Tartt spent a total of ten hours in front of the camera last night.

In order to make up for the day of missed content, Diana had her act out an entire Saturday – all three meals and even a fucking morning routine. They used lighting to make it look like noon during the night shoot. Put up a green screen in order to fake different locations. Set the background clock to different times of day.

It was with sleep in her eyes that she now entered the locker room, having been roused from her much needed slumber by a hungover Ted and a weary Beard.

Ada moved towards the back, leaning against the wall as she watched Beard take to the board. Colin and Isaac were sat at the bench a few feet away. She gave them a small rejecting smile when they waved her over.

"Look like you spent your night fucking warring or something."

Roy was suddenly standing beside her. He, too, was studying the play drawn on the board. His dark eyes took in every player's position, going over the predicted outcomes of every pass and block in his head.

"You look like you spent your night crying to a movie about a Robot."

He rolled his eyes and turned to her, but she was already pushing herself off the wall and making for the front of the room. Ada turned to him as she went, walking backwards so that he could properly hear her next words. "You should've left with me, would've saved your dignity."

"You said everyone cries." Roy scoffed, narrowing his eyes at her.

Not his greatest rebuttal, Roy knew that. He was never the sort to point out hypocrisy, usually preferring to insult and deny. But Ada's choice of wording was odd, and he was too busy figuring out her intention to come up with a witty comeback.

("Should've left with me.")

("You're taking me out, Kent.")

Ada laughed, "Are you actually admitting that you did?"

He clenched his jaw.

She turned to Beard before Roy could think to respond, reaching for the coach's marker and childishly adding details to his basic sketch of tonight's pitch.

"Where'd Ted run off to?" Ada wondered lightly.

Beard watched her draw, gesturing towards the door with his head. "Apologising to Nate. Apparently he hurt his feelings last night."

"Ted?" She paused her doodling to look at him. "But Nate didn't take anything to heart, surely?"

It wasn't fair of her to say, Ada knew that. But she couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Ted Lasso would hurt anyone, verbally or nonverbally. Intentionally or unintentionally.

"You never know how someone's gonna take the things you say." Beard shrugged. "I don't know if he made a mean joke or if he snapped at him, but words are a tricky thing."

And Ada knew they were. She didn't doubt that whatever Ted had said must have really affected Nate's already low self esteem. The man had barely even greeted her when she came in, eyes low as he dutifully performed his meagre tasks.

The girl couldn't help but think about all the jokes she'd ever made to slight people, and wondered about the affect they had. Long term and short term. Bad and worse than bad.

"Alright, listen up fellas," Ted called out as he re-entered the room, Nate awkwardly trailing behind him. "As of late, I feel like y'all have heard enough of my jibber-jabber. So I asked Nate the Great here to jot down a few of his thoughts and ideas about you guys and today's game."

"So listen." The coach ordered rather pointedly before turning to the kit man. "All yours, Nate."

Nate was practically trembling as Ted left him alone in the centre of the room. He shifted on his feet, glancing back to check for anyone that could possibly attack him from behind. He was met with the sight of Ada and Beard, both of whom were watching rather intently.

"Go on, then," Ada gave her best coaxing smile when she locked eyes with him. It quickly turned into a look of dread when Nate turned away.

Roy let out a quiet huff of amusement.

Sam heard it.

"Okay, um," Nate cleared his throat. "Er, right, okay, um."

The players, noticing how he was trembling, jumped at the chance to yell out their support.

"Let's go, Nate!"

"Come on, boy, you got this, right?" Isaac nodded, clapping his hands on his thighs.

Sam's smile was by far the most comforting, "Don't worry, Nate."

"Okay, thank you, let's do it." Nate smiled. But his fingers still shook as he flipped through his flashcards. "Isaac?"

"Hmm?" The centre back glanced up from where he'd been tying his boots. He quickly began nodding again, assuming that Nate was looking for more encouragement. "Oh, yeah, yeah. You got this, bruv, alright?"

Ada watched as the kit man swallowed, hesitant to read out the next words which were clearly directed at Isaac.

"I've noticed of late. . ." Nate breathed shakily. "That you've been playing like a big, dumb pussy."

Her eyes bulged. She quickly looked to Colin, neither of them sure whether they should laugh or fucking take cover.

Isaac aggressively pointed a finger, "What the fuck did you just say to me, bruv?"

But Nate wasn't taking anything back. "You're more concerned about looking tough than actually being tough. There's a way to be intimidating without being physical." He then gave a small nod. "Hope you don't mind me saying."

Last night, Ada had jokingly requested they criticise the players, and she had done so with the intention of slighting Roy and nothing else. It was as if Nate had taken that suggestion, kept the decision to insult, and added a good deal of counsel to tie the whole thing together and actually make it worth something.

And who here could truly be offended by his wording? The criticisms were warranted. The advice was solid. And the jibes were fucking hilarious.

"Sam. You're constantly getting beat on the wings. It's because you're indecisive. You second-guess more than the shitty psychic that Ada Tartt irresponsibly spends money on."

The model blinked.

Okay, well, that wasn't as hilarious.

(And neither was the way Roy Kent smiled, so why was Ada fighting back her own grin?)

"The only African I know more imprisoned by their own thoughts is goddamn Nelson Mandela."

Colin burst into laughter. He quickly began waving Ada over, hating that she was stood at the back by the coaches where Nate's facial expressions were out of view.

"Did you hear that?" The Welshman giggled as she made her approach. He moved over to make room for her on the bench. "What he said to Sam, did you hear it?"

Nate quickly turned to him, "You think that's funny, do you, Colin? You and all your fancy over step bullshit? Let me ask you this. Do you wax your pubes?"

"What?"

"Did I stutter, dickhead?" Nate tried not to grin when Ada snorted. "Do you wax your pubes? Yes or no?"

"No!"

"Then why are you always trying to play like a Brazilian?"

Colin blinked rapidly, turning to his friend. "What just happened?"

"Well, you just publicly lied about not getting your pubes waxed. Did you forget we go to the same waxing parlour?"

He clapped a hand on her mouth.

Nate approached the other end of the bench. He glanced down at his notes, looking for who he could call out next.

"Uh, Rojas."

"No, not him," Ada frowned to herself, ignoring Colin and Isaac's offended looks.

"Whoo!" The Mexican boy cheered excitedly. He had been looking forward to team activities since he joined Richmond, and loved the idea of participation. "Roast me, amigo!"

"You say football is life, right?"

Dani looked around the room with a blinding smile. "Football is life," He happily endorsed.

"Yeah, well, then your defence is death. The only man I've seen lose their man more often is Carrie fucking Bradshaw." Nate shrugged.

Laughter filled the room, made lighter by the fact that Dani seemed to easily accept the criticism.

"Right. Roy."

Any and all amusement was immediately sucked from the room. It was as if an oxygen trapping dome was suddenly placed on Earth, stilling everyone's breathing.

Ada watched as the captain rose from the bench, taking in the way his back muscles tensed. The white six was stretched tightly on the orange of his shirt. His face was blank as he approached Nate. He didn't stop until they were an inch apart.

"Go on. Say what you're gonna say."

"Okay," The kitman nodded hesitantly, seeking security behind his notes. But that frail shelter was robbed from him when Roy snatched the papers and threw them over his shoulder.

"Don't read it. Say it to my face."

Ada hoped that he wasn't intimidating Nate in a way that would come to hinder and halt this lesson – not because she wanted to hear the criticism and later quote it to annoy him, but because it clearly mattered.

She believed it mattered to Roy, even if he didn't know it. Roy, who was so good a player that he often forgot he was also flawed. Who hadn't been truly critiqued by anyone on his team for years – because he was a legend and a captain. And because he was gruff and cold.

But Ada had noticed how he subconsciously perked up last night, when she was setting up her joke at his expense. The prospect of criticism had roused him. And the opportunity to better himself shook the bones which had both football and greatness running through them like marrow.

This mattered to him.

It didn't escape Ada that this lesson also mattered to Nate. Her dear friend Nate, whose entire world seemed so small, and whose sense of self seemed ever smaller.

Nate, who she genuinely wanted to watch grow.

Was this what Ted felt like months ago, when he'd asked the kit man to present the decoy play to Ada? Was he praying that she'd go along, give this man a chance? Did he feel like how she felt now, watching Roy threateningly hover over Nate?

And when she gave in, had Ted felt this much relief? The relief that Ada felt when she caught Roy's subtle nod of encouragement?

"The great Roy Kent," Nate began after a lengthy pause. "You're old now. And slow. And your focus drifts."

(She missed how Roy's eyes drifted over to her. How that last comment, the one that he had been trying to deny, affected him far worse than the other two which he had already, albeit begrudgingly, accepted.)

"But your speed and your smarts were never what made you who you are. It's your anger. That's your superpower. That's what made you one of the best midfielders in the history of this league. But I haven't seen it on the pitch at all this season, Roy." Nate shook his head lightly. "I mean, you used to run like you were angry at the grass. You'd kick the ball like you'd caught it fucking your wife for Christ's sake."

Colin turned to make a joke regarding the last comment, one about how no woman would be dumb enough to marry Roy Kent, but paused when he caught the look on Ada's face. The way she seemed to be hanging on to every last word. The way her eyes flickered between Nate and Roy, as though she needed to witness every slight reaction to every word.

"But that anger doesn't come out anymore when you play. But it's still in there." Nate briefly pressed a finger to Roy's middle, where he assumed the volcano of rage currently laid dormant but ready. "And I'm afraid of what it's gonna do to you if you just keep it all for yourself."

The kit man dropped his hand. Rather impulsively, he turned to where Ada Tartt was currently sat, Ted's other request echoing in his ears. "Keeping emotions in – it's just, it's dangerous. For everyone. All the time."

She frowned.

Nobody, sans Ada and the two attentive coaches, seemed to catch on to the fact that he was addressing her personally. They all assumed that he was simply looking for an excuse to turn away from Roy.

Roy who was now breathing heavily. Who offered the reserves no warning as he neared their bench. Who began grunting, not out of struggle, but out of rage, as he ripped the wooden pew from the wall.

A silence fell over the room as he stood back up, heaving.

Ada stared at him unabashedly. She eyed the exerted pink of his cheeks. The bulge of his arms as the muscles slowly retracted. The visible flutter of his midriff as adrenaline and targeted anger pooled in his belly and rushed through his entire body.

"Let's go get these fuckers!" He yelled.

The team didn't hesitate to return his energy back tenfold. They all rushed out of the room, each player further spurred by the clap their captain landed on their back.

Roy was the last to leave. He was prepared to run out. Was prepared to wreak absolute havoc on that fucking pitch. But a hand caught his before he could; a slim hand that was familiar to him despite never having truly felt it.

He looked at her, still shaking with an urge to fucking win.

Ada only said three words to him.

Perhaps the only three words that would ever matter.

"The backheel strike."

Her favourite Roy Kent goal.

✷

"And the impossible has happened! Richmond have won at Everton. One - nil, thanks to a mighty rare goal from Roy Kent!"

Arlo White's words echoed out across the stadium. They were drowned out by the scream and cheers of the visiting supporters, but they still rang loud and true.

A mighty rare goal, indeed.

Ada had chosen to watch the match from the box seat rather than from the sidelines, having promised Sassy that she would explain the rules her. But she hadn't done well by her promise, having spent the entire match with her attention focused on nothing but the game.

Nothing but Roy.

It was him she approached now, drifting away from her female company as she walked further into the locker room.

"We're Richmond til we die! We're Richmond til we die!"

The chant filled every crack and every crevice. It reminded her of Jamie, who had taken the initiative to start chanting the night of the sacrifice. And now it was being bellowed as Richmond celebrated their first win without him; the first goal to be scored since they lost their best player.

Ada ignored the heavy feeling in her gut, pulling Colin and Isaac into tight, congratulatory hugs. She made sure to pinch Dani's cheek as she passed him. To ruffle Richard's styled hair. To briefly kiss Nate's brow as he rushed by. And slap Zoreaux on the back of the neck.

All to get to him.

"I was thinking about you the entire time."

Ada blinked, the choice of greeting taking her aback. She swallowed thickly. And then shrugged it off, quick to give him a smug smirk.

"Yeah, well, me advice is pretty sound."

Roy shook his head, a teasing glint in his eye. Not mocking, but teasing. "I meant because you've been popping up on my tv. Sounding like the fucking queen. Crazy hair."

"Leave the hair out of it, you prick!" She wanted to be annoyed, but couldn't help the laughter that escaped. And then Ada paused, her eyes searching his. "Wait, you noticed the accent?"

He was still breathing heavily. Streaks of dirt lined the high points of his face from when he'd tackled members of the opposing team. He was sweaty. He smelt of grass. Ada thought he looked like football.

"Fucking hard not to. It's grating."

"Why didn't you switch the channel?"

She was glowing in the dim light. She smelt of butterscotch. Her smile was quite possibly the most genuine it had ever been when aimed in his direction. Her eyes bore no glint, but they were still her eyes. She was still Ada Tartt. Roy thought that was good.

He didn't answer her question, instead hopping onto the bench behind him to address the room. "Oi! Listen up!" Roy called out. "None of you are going back to the hotel tonight, because we did something today that no one thought we could do, including us! So we're going out, we're celebrating, and we're gonna rub it in this city's fucking face!"

She'd never seen him so positively enthusiastic . And his team clearly hadn't either, all of them praising him and cheering his name as if it were some sort of mantra.

"Roy! Roy! Where are we going?"

Sam knew what he was doing when he asked the question. Understood that he was risking his captain's wrath when he began gesturing with his eyes – gesturing to Ada Tartt who was stood by the bench. By Roy.

But, there was no wrath.

"Tartt?"

Ada eyed his hand wearily, dragging her gaze from his inviting palm to his lean forearm to the captain band coiled around bicep, all the way up to his own eyes. She hesitated, but the excited hoots and hollers were convincing enough.

So, too, was the look he was giving her.

She rolled her eyes in faux irritation when Roy pulled her up onto the bench beside him.

"I wanna sing, Ada!" Winchester called out.

"Well, Liverpool has much to offer! Pubs and clubs and festivals galore! Drop the kiddos," Ada reached down to pat a laughing Colin on the face. "Off at karaoke and see for yourself!"

And whilst she had recited her lines in the most southern voice she could muster, it was with an exaggerated Manc accent that Ada sang along to Wonderwall by Oasis.

She and Sam shared the microphone, passing it back and forth between verses and singing cheek to cheek during the chorus.

Roy tried rolling his eyes whenever they met hers, knowing that she chose that specific song to annoy him, but he found it impossible not to sing along with everyone else. And even more impossible not to smile whenever Ada did.

He blamed it on the shots.

"Thank you, Richmond FC!" Sam yelled once the song ended, passing the microphone over to his duet partner when she gestured for it.

"And thank you, Liam Gallagher, for being super fucking fit!"

Keeley whistled from her place in the audience.

Ted smiled to himself as he watched Ada hop off the stage and run towards Nate. She wrapped an arm around his neck and whispered something in his ear, winking kindly when he gave her a shy nod and smile. She then ran for the bar, coming back a moment later with both Colin and Isaac trailing behind her.

Ada lingered there for a while. She made them all dance along to Beard's rendition to Bad Romance, and then helped the three initiate conversation before leaving them to it.

"Liam Gallagher your type then?"

She bit back a grin, sitting back in her previous seat on the leather settee. "What, arseholes with questionable eyebrows? Maybe."

Roy bit the tip of his tongue, but wasn't given the opportunity to say or do more. Ada's attention was now on the stage, where Sassy was announcing Rebecca's turn.

"Go on, Bex!" The model called out, clapping excitedly.

"Um, okay, uh," Rebecca chuckled nervously once she climbed the steps, removing the mic from its stand. "I don't even know what song I'm singing but I'd like to dedicate it to the best friend a girl could ever have."

"That is me! She is talking about me!" Sassy squealed from her place by Ted, pulling out her phone to record.

The opening notes to Let it Go caused tears to immediately well in Rebecca's eyes. "This is also dedicated to my goddaughter--"

"That is me!" Ada cheered. "She is talking about me!"

Roy snorted, pulling her arm down.

He didn't let go afterwards.

"My goddaughter, Nora." The older woman huffed in amusement. She blew a kiss to Sassy's camera before singing the opening verse.

"The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen."

Ada smiled wider than she had all day, moving to bring a hand up to her mouth. But her arm was weighed down.

A glance confirmed that Roy's fingers were wrapped around her bicep.

His thumb absentmindedly rubbed at the tanned flesh, eyes still on Rebecca.

"A kingdom of isolation. And it looks like I'm the queen." She pointed to Ada and Keeley as she sang the last three words.

Keeley giggled.

Ada didn't.

Roy looked over at her, and noticed she was watching him intently. He stilled his thumb.

And after a moment of hesitation, he began dragging his hand down the length of her arm.

"Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I've tried."

She watched as his fingers neared her own. Ada could now say that she knew what it felt like to hold hands with Roy Kent, having done so before the game and having done it again after.

But those were brief grips tethered to a purpose. She had done it halt him. He had done it haul her up.

This was different.

She glanced back up at him when his fingers brushed against her pulse point.

But her eyes caught sight of something over his shoulder.

Someone else's hands.

Ted Lasso's hands, trembling aggressively as he ran out of the karaoke club.

Ada's body reacted before her mind could keep up. She snatched her arm away from Roy, sparing him the briefest apologetic look (what was she apologising for?) before hurrying after her friend.

She had to push past multiple bodies, foreign and familiar, to make it to the exit. The curtain for the VIP section felt like a sheet of metal and she fought against it.

He was already sat on the pavement when she finally made it outside. His eyes were unfocused and his breathing was unsteady. He had a fist to his forehead, as though he were giving the voices their own microphone.

"Ted," Ada tried to be calm, but her voice shook as she leaned before him. "Hey, Ted, hey. I don't know what to do."

He was visibly struggling to breathe.

"Ted, hey," She felt like a child. A useless fucking child. The kind that didn't know what to do when her mother cried. Or when her father wouldn't wake up. "Hey, I don't know what to do. Ted, I don't know what to do. Hey, hey, I don't know what to do."

The man shook his head, heaving. "I don't know what's going on. I'm--I'm sorry."

Ada grasped his face in her shaky hands. "No, hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what to do. Just breathe. I think that's all you have to do, breathe." She placed her hand on the right side of his chest. "Hey, just breathe."

Ted bowed his head, fighting to right his pattern of breathing. "Am I going crazy?" He whispered.

"No," Ada let out a wet laugh. "No, you're alright. You're good. I think, I think you're just breaking."

He let out his own laugh, still struggling to properly get air. "I promised to wait til after the win, right, pal?"

She loved the nickname pal.

"Yeah. You promised." Ada nodded, watching as he slowly took her hand and dragged it across his chest.

Until it rested over the left side.

They sat there for a good amount of time. Ted on the pavement and Ada on the street, her denim skirt stained with dirt and her face marred with worry. Her hand stayed above his heart, feeling it pick up and slow down in a dizzying pattern before eventually steadying.

"There we go." She nodded when he leaned back against the brick wall, lifting herself up and moving to sit next to him.

"I think I need to call it a night."

"Okay," Ada struggled to smile softly. "Yeah, I'll go with you."

Ted was quick to deny her, "No, no, you go back in. I'm gonna go get a good night's rest. Need to walk back on my own."

"Okay."

Ada helped him stand up, patting his jacket free of dirt once he was stable on his two legs.

"Hey, Soufflé, do me a favour and just, uh, let Beard know I went back to the hotel."

She understood the silent request; don't tell him about the panic attack. And she understood why he asked it of her. It wasn't because he didn't want Beard to have the satisfaction of being right, Ted wasn't the sort to think like that. He just didn't want his best friend to worry.

"Okay." Ada nodded again, like it was the only word she knew how to say anymore.

She kept her eyes on him the entire time. Watched him walk to the hotel. Didn't even think about going inside until he was smaller than the smallest speck.

When she did eventually re-enter the bar, it was hard to pretend everything was alright.

Rebecca immediately noticed that something must have happened, and quickly brought Ada into a soothing embrace. Her body was freezing – she had gone out without a jacket, the thin white shirt and short denim skirt offering no protection.

The older woman bought her a bottle of water to regulate her body temperature.

And soon, it was Isaac and Colin that unknowingly regulated her mood.

They had to talk the man in charge into allowing them to reenact the entirety of Broadway's Hamilton production. But they were drunk, and barely made it one act in before they were making up words and laughing and falling over.

"Excuse me, very drunk man coming through!" The Welshman later yelled out into the streets as he and Isaac effortlessly carried Nate over their shoulders. The lightweight was a light weight.

"Very hypocritical, no?" Ada mused, trailing behind them. She waved to Richard as he pat her head goodbye before turning back to her friends. "Colin, seriously, watch your fucking step."

"Guys!" Sassy clapped. Keeley was stood beside her as she waved Rebecca and Ada over. "I think we should take the guys to the pub."

Rebecca immediately shook her head. "Oh, no, I am so done, Sass. Sorry."

"Yeah," Ada winced apologetically. "Not for me, sorry."

"Oh, come on! So it's just me and Keeley, then? You're all abandoning us?"

Keeley's face was extremely guilty as she stepped away from Sassy. "Think I'm tapping out, too, actually. I asked London to come pick me up so we can get food. I'm fucking done."

Ada raised a teasing eyebrow at her best friend. "London's coming to pick you up? What's wrong, afraid to drive?"

"Shut up," Keeley laughed. She cupped Ada's face and pressed a sloppy kiss to her nose. "We'll get you some food on the way back."

"So I have to take eighteen young, handsome men all by myself?" Sassy frowned in false disappointment.

Ada shrugged, "Well, and Colin."

"Hey!"

Keeley was running off only moments later, checking both sides of the street before sprinting over to London's parked car.

"Alright then, she's gone, we're gone, too." Sassy laughed. "See you later!"

Ada and Rebecca waved their goodbyes, watching as the woman and the entire Richmond team began their night of bar hopping. They both laughed when Dani Rojas tripped over his own shoe lace, and cooed when Sam Obisanya helped him up like the sweetheart he was.

"Right, Trouble," The older woman sighed. "Want a lift back to the hotel?"

Ada was cold and her feet hurt and a lift sounded like a dream.

But, when Sassy rounded up all the men to extend their night of fun and prolong its bitter end, she had unknowingly let one slip.

And he was stood there. Under the red glow of the club's neon sign. His hands, one of which she could still feel all over her right arm, were shoved in the pockets of his black slacks.

Ada didn't know if it was the same suit from the charity benefit. Because she hadn't truly paid attention to him that night, not even when she bid fifty thousand pounds for a date. But she was looking now, as she planned to spend the next ten or so minutes with him for free.

"I think I'm gonna walk."

Rebecca followed her line of sight, and had to blink to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "Ah."

"Wait," Ada turned to her. "Unless this is a difficult night for you."

"Why would it be?"

"Rupert."

The blonde couldn't help how her chin trembled. And it wasn't because the name pained her to hear or because she did, in fact, want Ada to accompany her back.

No, it was because Ada Tartt was good. So fucking good. And because she remembered. And because she was willing to miss out on what could be the best decision of her life just to take care of Rebecca. The same way she ran out to take care of Ted Lasso. Who was also good. And who Rebecca was trying to get rid of.

Like how she got rid of Jamie.

"I'm fine, Trouble." She said, words genuine despite her glistening eyes and tight smile. "Besides, that was technically yesterday."

Ada nodded, studying Rebecca once more before launching herself onto the woman in a tight embrace. "You're better than him."

"I know." Rebecca squeezed her even tighter, meeting eyes with Roy over the girl's shoulder. "Now go, he was always an impatient one."

The model laughed, stepping back. She looked over at Roy. He was watching them, and he looked patient – like he didn't expect anything. Like he would take what she wanted to give. Like he'd leave if she asked it of him.

But Ada didn't do that, not even when they made it to her room.

The two had walked back to the hotel in relative silence. Her arm brushed against his. His stray glanced were caught.

A few people had come up for photos.

A man selling roses had approached, and Ada bought one and stuck in Roy's chest pocket. He had rolled his eyed and pretended to hate it.

She stared at that rose now, not necessarily sure where else she was supposed to look. Not sure what she was supposed to say, either.

   "This is me," Ada said rather lamely, pointing to the door behind her.

    Roy slowly nodded. That feeling came over him again, the one where he felt like he simply had to talk to her. "Rebecca got you your own suite?"

    "Sharing the room with three other girls, actually. Why, were you hoping it would be empty?"

    There it was again. That strange flavour of banter they'd been testing. The kind that made your blood rush. Roy's blood had been rushing since the match. Since they finally beat Everton. Since he scored that goal. Since he made that kick – the one she told him to do. The same kick that earned him his notoriety, the one he used to secure Chelsea's Champion League win.

   In a way, the night was full of olds and news.

   A fresh win from a memorable goal.

   Foreign feelings from constant people.

   Roy looked down for a moment, as though calculating something. He then looked back up. At her. Not to question her glow or look for answers or see which cheek carried more freckles. No, Roy just looked at her. At Ada Tartt; the girl he could never presume to entirely know, or completely understand, or fully see.

    But he didn't have to see to look.

     Didn't have to violate every layer of wear-and-tear flesh to just look at her.

     And it felt odd to Ada, how Roy was looking at her. Like she didn't have to be touched to be real. Like it was enough for her to just stand and exist. That was new for her.

   (A deep gaze was for drowning, but a shallow one was safe. She hadn't felt safe in  a while.)

   Roy didn't know when he started leaning in.

   He watched her as she watched him. Her eyes were curious. She was always the curious sort, Ada. But she was also smart. And knowing. So he knew that she understood. And took it as a good sign when she didn't move back or push him away. When she didn't make a face and explain the concept of personal space.

   It was all new.

   But his mind seemed to linger on the old.

    "You've worn that shirt before." He mumbled, upper lip brushing against the far corner of her mouth as he spoke.

   Ada was dizzy and her mind struggled to keep up, but, fuck, she was still Ada. "Are you policing me for being an outfit repeater? Right now?"

    He wasn't listening, "You wore it that day." She didn't have the time to question him because he was leaning an inch closer. Their foreheads touched. "Why did you hate me?"

   "What?" She whispered. Now she was really dizzy, and not just because his cologne was beautiful, and because his forehead was warm enough to wash away the remainder of her earlier chill.

    "The day we met."

     It was hard for Ada to think straight. Not when his dark eyes were so close. Not when he was so close.

    But Roy needed to know. Had to be sure that he wasn't being stupid.

   "You were mean to Jamie." She whispered after a moment.

    (It didn't escape her that that was the first time she'd uttered his name since he left. Jamie was too busy to call, what with readjusting to being Man City player and moving into his new house, but he'd text. And would send many voice memos in which he'd narrate the most boring parts of his day in a funny voice.

    Jamie, her brother.

    Who she missed so much, and who she regretted ever fighting with.)

    Roy's eyes searched hers, "No, I didn't know Jamie then. Be honest."

    "I am." She leaned back, forehead parting from his. The back of her head hit the door lightly. "We met when I picked him up from training that one time."

   "No."

    No?

    "You were walking out of Mannion's office. Running, actually. For the elevator. Covered in coffee." He glanced to the shirt again, plain white under her leather jacket. "I asked you which floor. You told me to fuck off."

    He expected her to laugh. To say something along the lines of Oh, yeah, that sounds like something I'd say. I don't regret that at all.

   But she didn't laugh.

   Didn't say anything.

   Ada just stared at him.

   She remembered meeting him for what she'd always known to be the first time; how she ignored his nod, and how he had narrowed his eyes at her. How she was quick to return the favour with more venom than he could hope to muster. How she called him shorter in person. How her brother laughed when she recounted the entire ordeal on the drive back to her house.

    How was that not the first time? And how could Ada not remember?

   How could she not remember meeting Roy Kent? He was Roy fucking Kent. He was all anyone ever talked about when she was growing up. He was a permanent fixture in her life, had been from the moment sweet Jamie put super glue to baby blue walls.

    Ada remembered attending galas and searching for him. Remembered how people would look at her as though she were a stupid lamb, telling her that Roy Kent never attended such events. Not if he could help it.

You told me to fuck off.

    Surely, she would have remembered.

   But also, if what he was saying was true, then how could she be expected to?

    That day had been awful. The confrontation. The yelling, and how Rupert swore that he'd despise her forever if she told Rebecca the truth. How she flinched when he accidentally knocked over the pot of coffee, staining the carpeted floors and her favourite shirt. How she ran out before he could apologise.

   Roy was there for that? For the aftermath? Had looked at her long enough to remember her shirt even now? Had witnessed her in that state and never used it against her during their routine trading of insults?

   (She didn't remember meeting him, because she refused to remember the details from that day. Like how she didn't remember shooting that nightlife advert. Like how she didn't remember amsterdam. Or the match where she broke her leg.

    But she wanted to remember him now. Wanted to remember everything about this moment.)

     Ada slowly brought a hand up to his stubbled cheek.

   She'd always wanted to feel it, the reasons varying from day to day.

     He tensed for less than a second before dropping his head against hers once more.

    "I don't think I hated you." She murmured after a moment.

    Roy leaned down before he stop himself.

     Ada leaned up before she could second guess.

   (Before she could give in to her fears and run. Like how she ran from Rupert. And how she ran from home.)

    They tried to brush their lips together in trial, but found that they lacked the patience.

   Roy barely tasted the berry of her lipgloss before he was tasting the toffee on her tongue. Her left hand left his cheek to lightly massage his working jaw. Her right hand cupped on the back of his neck.

   She made a soft sound inside his mouth.

     His hands were warm on her waist, like the hand that pushed her forward that day in the locker room. And his tongue was cool like the ice cream he bought her when they first chose to tolerate each other. His nose brushed against her cheek like the sweetest caress.

    It was good.

    He was good.

   Roy was good, she knew that now.

   She'd known it for a while.

    So why was Ada crying? And why did her heart hurt? And why did she feel guilty for kissing him when it was the best kiss she ever had?

     He pulled away when he felt her tear land on his cheek. She peppered wet kisses on his bottom lip, chasing him the farther he went.

     "Hey," Roy furrowed his eyebrows.

     (He felt sick.)

     "I'm okay." Ada promised.

      (She felt sick.)

      There was a pain in his eyes as he studied her for a brief moment. He was completely drunk on her, there was no doubt about it, but it was the three shots that he'd downed with the team that currently hindered his mind.

    They made him see regret where there was none. Disgust where the was grief. Ada Tartt where there was Ada Tartt.

    They controlled his tongue as well his eyes. "Good night."

    And his body, too.

    She watched him go.

 

    

✷

    Ted Lasso was conscious of the fact that he looked an absolute mess as he opened the door to his hotel room. Knew that he had likely pulled his pants on backwards in his rush to get decent, and that his hair probably resembled the bird's nest which had sat on the windowsill of his childhood bedroom.

    But, Ada Tartt, no matter how famously beautiful and internationally revered, somehow managed to look worse.

    "Do you still love me even though I'm broken?"

    Ted blinked.

    He quickly took her in; the red eyes and the tear streaks and the croaky voice. The messy lipgloss and bruised lips. The way she fiddled with her hands as she awaited his response, as if his answer meant life or death.

   "What?"

  "Can we be roommates, please?"

    And how could he possibly turn her away? When she, his friend, was in this state? When she used the word please? When it was barely three hours ago that she comforted him through his own breaking point?

    "Hey," Ted cooed softly, grabbing her leather glad shoulders and pulling her forward. "Yeah, of course. I wanted us to be roomies, remember?"

   But then Ted paused when he remembered that he'd need do something about his current roommate first. He stopped Ada before she could step through the doorway.

    "Um, stay here for a second?"

     Ada, who would never even think to assume that Ted Lasso had a woman in his room, furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you changing your mind?" Her chin wobbled. "Is it because I'm difficult?"

    "What? No! I just wanna make sure the room looks good."

    "Oh."

     She could only stare when the door slammed shut in her face. And could only squint when he returned a moment later, hair brushed and a suspicious smile on his face.

   "Okay, come on in." He led her through the small opening before pushing her into the bathroom. "Got you some clothes, why don't you freshen up?"

      Ada turned to face him, but he slammed the bathroom door before she could utter a single word or offer her gratitude.

     "What the fuck?"

     Ted quickly rushed over to the closet, which stood directly across the hall from the bathroom.

     Sassy was still buttoning up her trousers, biting back a laugh. "Haven't felt like this since I was sixteen."

   "I'm so sorry."

    And he genuinely was. It didn't matter to him that she was amused. Ted knew very little about the culture of sleeping with strangers, having only ever been with the woman he made his wife, but he did know that he respected Sassy. And that he felt horrible about sleeping with her and forcing her out.

    He had planned on ordering breakfast. And paying extra for a later checkout so that she wouldn't have to rush in the morning.

   Now here she was, rushing. In a closet.

   And here he was, freshly divorced, being the reason.

    "It's okay," Sassy nodded. She gave him a smile, one that lacked her usual, well, sass. It was kind and understanding. "I have a daughter, too."

   "Oh, no, she's--"

   "It's the same thing."

    Ted titled his head. And Sassy, noting his confusion, titled hers too.

    Was he not the man with the gingerbread house?

     The sound of a sink turning off forced her to rush. The woman quickly threw her jacket over her shoulders, giving Ted a wink as she slipped out the door.

    And as one door closed, another one opened.

     Ada dragged her feet over to the couch, almost tripping on Ted's baggy pyjamas pants. He watched as she threw herself on the cushion, and smiled when she quickly burrowed herself beneath the quilt. 

    "Are you okay?" He asked softly as he approached, sitting by her legs.

    "I broke."

   "Well, that's okay," He nodded. "Wanna talk about it?"

     Ada flipped over, so that she was now facing the turned off television rather than the back of the couch. "Not really."

    "Okay."

   He eyed his backpack which sat under the coffee table, impulsively reaching for it and reaching his hand inside. It was a moment later that Ted found what he'd been looking for. He held it out for Ada to take.

    "Here," He smiled at her. "It's not a little ninja, but, hey. Short notice."

    The model eyed the little green figure which now stood on the palm of her hand. It was a soldier, seemingly strapped and ready for battle.

   It was the same size as the little toy ninjas she used to cherish as a child. Her father had bought her a bucket full of them; miniature, red warriors who varied in shape and rank. Most of them were now armless, thanks to Jamie, and were collecting dust in their mothers storage unit.

   "It's better than the ninjas." She mumbled. "Thank you."

    Ted could only offer another smile. He pat her on the knee and stood up, looking at her once more to silently ask if she needed anything. He moved towards his bed when Ada shook her head.

    She didn't talk again until around ten minutes later, when the lights were switched off and Ted was almost asleep.

    "Ted?"

    "Yeah?"

     She hesitated. And then, "I love you."

     "I love you, too."

      "And Ted?"

      "Yeah, pal?" He asked patiently.

     "Why was there a tent in your pants when you opened the door?"

    

⚽️: This was kinda a big one, no?

⚽️: Ada just misses her brother y'all.

⚽️: Ignore grammar mistakes, I've been up for 34 hours trying to put this out lmfaooo but, yeah, I had so much fun writing this chapter. Next one's gonna be exciting, I think.