She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter nine.

Chapter nine, All Apologies.
"PREACHER & NONBELIEVER."

   "WAIT, STOP FOR A SECOND."

   Roy stilled, the damp cloth in his hand now hovering over her stained abdomen as they met eyes. He raised an eyebrow as Ada, still naked, and still coated in both sweat and seed, unpropped her pillow from the headboard so that she could lay down properly.

She then stared up at him with her head tilted, as if she were looking for something.

"Sorry, just," The girl mumbled, reaching a hand out and grabbing his chin. She moved his head slightly to the left, only releasing him when she was satisfied with his new position. "There. Something so familiar about this. Like, I'm getting serious déjà vu."

"It's not fucking déjà vu if you notice similarities between right now and last night." Roy said in vague amusement, wiping away the last of his spill before placing a soft kiss on her stomach. "And the fucking night before that."

      "And the night before that." Ada smirked cheekily as she continued studying him. "Wow, it's been a lot of nights, really. You should fuck off and go home before I get bored of you."

    Roy was barely at his own house these days, and it was weird for both of them, how fast time was flying. It felt like not a single day had gone by since their first date, but the truth was that it was over two weeks ago that Ada confronted Rebecca – and therefore over two weeks since he first spent the night.

He had come over that same day, straight after training, and his intention had been to comfort and do nought else – because they truly had been trying to take things slow. But then they were sitting very close together on the couch. And then she was telling him about her fond childhood memories. And then Roy was attempting to make the cakes she grew up eating, hoping to make up for the dinner they didn't have the night before. And then he failed at baking. And she kissed him for his effort. Kissed him in a way he'd never been kissed before, not in all his years. And the next thing he knew, Ada was dragging him upstairs.

So, yes, comforting led to kissing and kissing led to more. And even more than more, as he often liked to tease her. Because they did that now; tease each other. And talk. And fuck. And sometimes even just sit in silence, relishing in the quiet whilst they still had it.

The quiet which only existed because nobody really knew that the two were together.

Rumours had already spread after Baz's tweet went viral, but Ada Tartt's life had always been a revolving door of speculation. This was nothing new. Journalists couldn't do much with absolutely no evidence, and so she and Roy made sure there was none; they acted reasonably professional during training (on the rare occasion that Ada even attended – mostly because she was trying to avoid Rebecca, but also because the model found herself quite busy now that her manager was in Brighton) and limited their public outings to avoid another paparazzi situation.

   It was important to note that this effort to ensure everything stayed private wasn't because Roy and Ada were embarrassed, or because they were at all worried about the media's perception. They just knew, from past experience, what it would mean if word got out; that their developing relationship would no longer belong to them. It would become clickbait, something for big news outlets to milk. A subject of discourse.

They were willing to accept their fate of public exclusivity when the time came, but wasn't it fun to bask in the new?

And wasn't it just as fun to delight in the reminders of the past?

"You used to watch me sleep." Ada murmured softly, ignoring Roy's obvious irritation as she moved his head to the left once more. "From that exact angle." 

"Think I'd fucking remember."

"Not you," She laughed and shook her head. "The poster. It would hang on me side of the room, looking down on me just like you are right now."

"Ah, so, déjà vu," Roy mused, plopping the sullied washcloth back into the bowl of water before finally lying down beside her. He brought the blanket up to shield them both, and watched as the sun seeped in through the bedroom window, shining on her and turning wheat coloured hair to gold. And tanned skin to bronze. Brown eyes to rust. Shoulder freckles to stardust.

   The light also turned her tears of passion and exertion into little raindrop diamonds.

    He used his thumb to wipe away what remained of them, narrowing his eyes when she nipped at his finger.

   "Déjà vu." Ada echoed teasingly. "You know, Roy Kent was a witness to every naughty thing to ever happen in that room."

    Roy was rolling his eyes before she even finished speaking, knowing very well that she wasn't referring to youthful mischief. He was anticipating yet another joke about Jamie being aroused by the poster – a repeat of the blunt jape she made that night in the parking lot, the first time they truly shared a laugh together (he couldn't count how many they'd shared this week alone).

   But then, Ada continued.

   "How does it feel to know that I'd let boys take me while looking right at you?" She whispered, watching intently as Roy stared at her. He then screwed his eyes shut and burrowed his face in the duvet. "I mean, they were never good, those poor lads, but I was always satisfied. All I had to do was keep me eyes on--"

    He was on top of her before she could say more, ignoring the giggles and shrieks as he peppered kisses on her mouth. If Roy had known all those months ago that the only way to silence Ada Tartt was by pleasuring her, then they might have gotten together much faster.

    "So annoying." He managed to mumbled between hot kisses.

   And she truly was annoying.

And impatient.

And had the worst taste in films.

And the most peculiar smarts, as well.

   And was funny in the strangest way.

And she was so warm, Ada. Her skin constantly radiated heat, like a human furnace. It was something he learned over the nights spent with her, and something he was now remembering as she wrapped her arms around his chilled neck. And as her warm legs hooked around his naked torso. And as her lips took to his like some sort of security blanket, slowing the flow of his blood and yet rushing it at the same time.

    "Don't be mean to me," She sighed against his mouth, lightly massaging his shoulders. "It turns me on. I'll have to keep you in bed, and then you'll be late for training."

    "Maybe I should stay, then. Be fucking useful."

Ada frowned, pulling away from him slightly.

He never wanted to talk about it, what was being said about him, but she knew that it was all he ever thought about recently. The headlines and pundit comments, the ones calling him a liability. And accusing him of costing Richmond the last five matches. And encouraging him to sit on the bench, for his own sake as well as the team's.

They were harsh words, made even harsher by the fact that they bore a semblance of truth, but Ada naively refused to believe them. Despite not attending training too much, she made sure to be present during games, and whilst she and Ted both secretly acknowledged that Roy was out of it, they never spoke it out loud. Not even when Beard began shooting them knowing glances.

"Hey, listen--"

"It's nothing." He burrowed his face beneath her jaw, lightly biting on the soft space between shoulder and neck before reluctantly sitting up. "I should get there before those fucking idiots."

"Because you like using the training room right after the cleaners are done with it, and before anyone else has had a go at the treadmill." She recited, watching him pull his pants on.

Roy was so grateful that his back was turned to her because it meant she couldn't see the stupid smile on his face.

"Will I see you at training?" He asked after a small lull.

"You'll be seeing me before that," Ada sighed, reaching over to grab her phone from the bedside table. "London emailed me last night. Said I have a shoot at Nelson Road for a feature called Women in Football."

Roy briefly looked to her for an explanation, but she seemed just as confused. He knew that Ada's manager was a touchy subject, especially now that she only ever made contact through emails and memos, but one had to wonder why Ada Tartt would be posing for such an article. Especially when London Abara, whose meeting with Rupert Mannion was still a floating question mark, had put so much effort into ensuring that the model was no longer associated with sports.

"Is that normal?"

"It's probably so I can assure everyone that I haven't switched careers. London's been fucking hounding me about explaining me position on the sidelines for months." She groaned, getting out of bed and approaching him.

Roy was fully dressed now.

Ada was not.

He pursed his lips in amusement, placing his hands on the her sharp hipbones when she was close enough. Her eyes fluttered shut as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"So I'll see you."

    "At training," She nodded. They would have to act like their old selves there, which just meant heightening their current desire to constantly tease each other and subduing their newfound urge to constantly touch each other. She intentionally stiffened and stepped away from him. "Kent."

"Tartt."

They stared at each other for a moment, expressions blank. And then she stood on her tiptoes, placing her mouth on his. She smiled against him. He tried so hard not to succumb to his own mirth.

"Use the back door."

Roy nodded, spoiling Ada with another kiss before moving around her. "Because your neighbour stands in the garden and waits for her grandchildren to be dropped off at this time."

She was glad that her back was turned to him, because that meant he couldn't see her stupid smile.

"Yeah."

✷

"No!"

"Oh, come on!" Keeley groaned from her place by the door, watching as her best friend got prepped for the photoshoot. "It's only a few pictures together."

"Sorry, Keels, but I really can't pose with Rebecca. She's too fucking tall and I have megalophobia."

The blonde frowned, leaning off the doorframe and stepping in. They'd turned one of the smaller press rooms into a space for Ada to get ready, as was expected and appropriate for a model of her status. The girl had been pouting the entire time, but dread quickly turned to irritation when Keeley let slip that Rebecca was also a focus point of the article.

"She told me, you know? About the picture, and The Sun."

Ada quickly turned in her chair, ignoring how the lip pencil drew a sharp line across her cheek. "Rebecca did?"

"Yeah."

Keeley watched as her friend's shoulders slumped in what she could only assume was relief; whether it was relief that she no longer had to keep this secret to herself or because she was happy to know that Rebecca did the right thing, Keeley had no idea. But relief was relief and who was she to complain?

"So, you know, and you're asking me to do this with her?" Ada asked quietly. "Are you not angry?"

"Angry? I'm hurt," Keeley frowned. "Like you are, Ada."

   "Oh, I'm not hurt. I'm really pissed off."

    "This isn't you pissed off. When Ada Tartt's pissed off, everyone knows about it."

    A snort of agreement came from the woman doing Ada's hair, the same woman that Ada had once snapped at for suggesting she grow out her locks.

The model felt her eye twitch. Shame and indignation warred for dominance in her gut, and she truly didn't want to be feeling either of those things – not after her blissful morning.

   "You know who I'm angry at?" She asked, changing the subject and turning back in her seat. The patient makeup artist quickly began fixing her lipliner. "Fucking London. I mean, I'm still her boss. Shouldn't she tell me before she fucks off to Brighton?"

    "Well, London hasn't taken a day off since she started working for you." Keeley shifted on her feet. "And even now she's still technically working. Just, you know, remotely."

   "Those emails are fucking stupid," Ada scoffed. "And in the last one she said she'd be back in town today. So why isn't she here?"

   "Ada, managers don't normally show up to photoshoots. You do know, don't you?"

    "Of course, I did."

    No, she didn't know. London was always at the shoots, hovering and ordering people around. Telling her everything she was doing wrong. Scoffing whenever Ada claimed to be in a bad mood, only to then tell everyone off for how they contributed to said mood. Not leaving until the photographer decided all was well. Picking at the clothing, questioning the designer material.

    London was like a glorified invigilator.

    At least she did her job right, though.

    "What the fuck are you doing?" Ada scoffed as one of the agency's interns handed her a bowl. "What's this?"

    Keeley glanced at it and quickly shut her eyes, dread washing over her.

    "Um," The boy shrugged nervously. "Skittles. They said to bring you skittles."

    She stared at him incredulously. "They said to bring these ones? I know they didn't."

    The intern's hand shook as he shoved it in his pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper seconds later. His eyes scoured the notes. "Purple skittles, Miss Tartt. That's what it says."

   "What's your name?"

     "Will."

     "Are you colourblind, Will?"

     Keeley stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He probably thought it meant the purple bag." She turned to Will, who now looked very pale in the face. No doubt he thought this incident would cost him his internship. "Didn't you?"

    He nodded, glancing over at Ada who was frowning at herself in the mirror.

    "Whatever," She mumbled. "It's supposed to be the red bag, but just the purple sweet, you know? Don't know why I'm fucking angry about it. I shouldn't even be eating them this early in the morning."

    "Exactly." Keeley nodded.

    "But, like, that mistake's never happened before, so, you know, it's reasonable that I'm angry."

Keeley bit her tongue and gave Will a pat on the back, encouraging him to leave. She then perched herself on the table next to Ada's chair, sighing.

"What's going on with you? I thought you'd be happier now."

Ada gave her best friend a strange look, and Keeley gave her one right back.

(Did she think nobody knew about her and Roy?)

"Look," The model huffed, brushing off Keeley's strange behaviour. "I don't like being upset with Bex, okay? But, I am. And now you're saying I have to do this shoot with her. . ."

"You can be upset with her as much as you want, that's okay." Keeley said lightly, using her thumb to wipe away the excess highlighter from Ada's nose. "But she didn't have to tell me the truth – that has to count for something."

"Did she tell Ted?"

"I don't think so."

     Ada took the bowl of candy from the makeup table and began picking at the purple skittles. "It's all because of Rupert."

    Keeley gave the stylists a soft smile and gestured to the door with her head, waiting for them to file out before turning back to Ada. "He hurt her, yeah. She wanted to hurt him back, and didn't think about who she was hurting in the process until it was too late."

"No, I mean, she sent Jamie away because I lied about Rupert."

    "You don't actually believe that."

    And maybe she didn't. Maybe she never forgave herself for lying. Maybe she was funnelling all of that guilt, and using it to fill Rebecca's actions with a motive that was never there. But that didn't change the fact that Jamie was now gone, and that Rebecca had been lying for months. It didn't change the fact that Ada was hurt.

No, definitely not hurt.

Angry.

Kind of.

   "I'll take the pictures," Ada sighed, sitting up in her makeup chair. "But I won't be happy about it."

  "Think you can pretend, my love?"

Ada gave her a look. "Can I, Ada Tartt, fake being happy for the length of a photoshoot?"

Keeley should've known that the answer would be a yes.

And she should've known that it would also be a no.

Because, sure, Ada had done many a gig with absolutely no desire to do so, and yes, she always managed to smile in a few of the photos, but it was absolutely unheard of for her to make it through the entire thing without complaining.

    "Beautiful!" The photographer called out, grinning widely at the first good shot of Ada and Rebecca.

    The model's smile dropped from her face. And her her arm dropped from around Rebecca's shoulder.

  "Does that mean you can fuck off now?"

   "Trouble!" Rebecca chided, quick to give the photographer an apologetic smile. But he waved her off.

   "It's Ada." The man shrugged. He then held his camera back up, focusing its lens on the two of them. "A few more and we're done, okay? Hold the ball up."

   "Matthew," Ada groaned. "You said we'd be done an hour ago. It's fucking Sports Illustrated all over again."

    "Let's just do a few more," Rebecca sighed tiredly, holding the football up so that it sat between both their heads.

   "Oh, I'm sorry, Rebecca," Ada frowned, ignoring Matthew's impatient huff and the way Keeley snapped her fingers to halt what hadn't yet begun. "Did you want something from me? I have an idea, why not lie about it for months so that the whole thing goes your way?"

    Rebecca frowned. Her eyes were extremely sad as she took a step forward, but Keeley's screech stopped her from saying anything.

    "Look, everyone, it's Ted!"

    "Oh! Keeley!" He yelled back with matching enthusiasm, taking her warning call as a cherry greeting. The coach stepped further into the room after checking that he wasn't interrupting. "Oh, snap, watch your back Ada Tartt, there's a new bad girl on the British modelling scene."

    Rebecca gave a small laugh at that. The sound of genuine amusement and true flattery brought Ada to pause. She knew that Ted had comforted her at the charity benefit, and that Rebecca made time to return the favour in Liverpool – having gone after him for a bit after comforting Ada at the karaoke bar. That sort of vulnerability was sure to create a bond, but how could Ada believe it to be real?

    After everything, how could she trust Rebecca? Rebecca who she looked up to and loved and from whom she'd sought guidance and security? Rebecca who betrayed not only her, but Ted and Keeley? Who had Jamie act as collateral damage?

  The truth was that she couldn't trust her.

    Not yet.

   "Yeah, well, let's hope Rebecca hates the industry more than I do, Ted. Maybe then she'll go to major lengths to destroy it."

    Ted clearly didn't catch the bitter irony in her voice, merely grinning at his boss. "You hear that? We all think you're powerful!"

    "You can fuck off now."

    They all turned to the model in shock, never having heard her use such vulgar language with Ted.

     "Oh, she's talking about me." Matthew explained once he took in their looks and silence. He began packing up his equipment, and gave Ada an amused smile as he walked towards the door.

   "See you next week, Matty boy!"

    "Yeah, maybe!"

    "Fuck--" He was gone before she could question him. She then turned to Keeley. "Fuck's he mean by maybe? I'm doing Calvin Klein on Tuesday, right?"

    "They probably hired someone else to shoot the campaign." The publicist shrugged, unbothered. "Listen, I'm gonna go check on this article's sponsors, okay? Be back in two minutes."

    Ted gave Keeley a friendly wave as she walked past him, turning back around with a grin once it was just the three of them in the locker room. He pulled out a box of biscuits from his pocket, "Brought these in case y'all needed a little biscuit boost."

    "I already had breakfast, cheers."

     Rebecca, who was already sat on the bench and devouring her first piece of shortbread, exchanged a look with Ted.

   "Since when do you eat breakfast, Soufflé?" He laughed, picking up the discarded football and sitting beside Rebecca.

    Ada stilled. When did she start having breakfast? Around the same time that she began waking up next to a man. A man who loved starting his mornings off with the densest meal he could devour. An athlete who could not function properly without his eggs and meat and fruit and coffee. Someone who loved bringing food up to bed, and who was insistent on making sure that Ada was just as energised as he was – and not just for sex, which was confusing.

    "It was just skittles." She lied, casually shrugging before making her way over to the bench. And making sure to sit on Ted's right.

    Rebecca ignored the obvious distance she was creating and leaned over Ted to look at the girl. "I told them to bring you the purple ones."

    "Oh, yeah. Thanks."

     "You're welcome."

    "Well, hey," The man grinned as he wrapped an arm over Ada's shoulders. "I woulda brought you your own batch of carby butter if I'da known that you'd be here with nothing but a purple rainbow in you."

    "Not much of a rainbow if it's just one colour," She quipped. "But, yeah, no, I didn't know I'd be coming until last night. Spontaneous photoshoot."

    Ted took a moment to look over the room, taking in the lighting setup and the leftover equipment and the rack of clothing which was present in case a wardrobe change was required. It was all very intimidating, and very out of place in this locker room. He briefly wondered if this felt weird to Ada, having both her professions morphed into one.

   "Man, oh, man," He whistled. "Y'all get nervous doing this kind of stuff?"

    Rebecca shrugged. "It's a profile on women in football. It's not a big deal. There's, like, five of us; me, Ada, Karen, Delia, and Posh Spice."

    "Yeah, no, forget the other hundreds of women actually playing the game. We're definitely the ones that matter."

     "That's what I'm saying," Rebecca frowned, affronted. "They should be looking to them. Not a club owner and someone whose rumoured coaching position is being used for sales."

    "Oh."

     Okay, so, maybe Ada really wanted the woman to say something stupid and tone deaf. Something to cancel out the skittles (wrong kind, but that was Will's fault) and the genuine laughs she heard her share with Ted. Something to remind Ada of Rebecca's wrongdoing, and to erase the sense of comfort she'd felt at having this maternal figure stand at her side before the camera.

   "Hey, y'all are more than that!" Ted scoffed in disbelief, turning to Ada first. "You're a huge deal 'round these parts. Little girls look up to you."

  "And little boys look up me skirt."

    He shook his head, "They look up to you, too. I saw it at that elementary school. They wanted to play with you so badly. And you remember our friend, Shanon? Her buddy, Robert, dressed up as Ada Tartt for Halloween."

    "You sure it wasn't Jamie?" Ada asked, biting back a laugh when she saw him hesitate.

    "My point still stands." Ted pointed a finger at her before then turning to Rebecca. "And you! Come on, boss. Don't you realise that there's probably a little girl out there somewhere, rocking a tiny eggplant-coloured power suit, and she's just dreaming about becoming a sports executive someday? She's gonna read this article and she's gonna think holy smokes, my dreams are possible."

    Rebecca tilted her head, popping another bit of biscuit in her mouth. "In this scenario of yours, little girls who read football magazines care more about the sports executive than England's best female striker?"

     Ada narrowed her eyes and looked to Rebecca, searching for any sign of forced flattery. She was surprised to find that there was none. The woman's eyes were on Ted, genuinely curious and inquisitive. And she seemed to truly consider Ada Tartt to be one of the greats.

    "Well, who knows?" Ted shrugged, passing the football between his hands. "Maybe some of them do. Little girls are mysterious. And silly. And powerful. I gave up trying to figure them out a while ago."

     Ada rolled her eyes when she noticed that he was grinning at her. "I'm twenty three."

    "And you, little miss twenty three, once told me you wanted to be just like our swellest bellest pal, Rebecca Welton."

    There was no point in denying it, not when Ted would probably recite the details of that conversation just to prove it true. And not when Rebecca was looking at her like the fucking gates of Heaven just opened up – like she could only now believe herself worthy of being the subject of an article.

     Ada remembered that conversation with Ted. It was when they were helping Colin further perfect his free kick after team training, about three days after the Teeny Houdini incident which cost her thousands of pounds. She told the two of them that she had a meeting with her financial advisor coming up, and that she wanted to buy a pantsuit to come off more professional.

    To be taken more seriously. To be looked at with respect. To seem powerful and secure. Just like Rebecca Welton.

   "Whatever." She huffed rather childishly, avoiding the older woman's soft gaze as she snatched the football from Ted. She dropped it to the floor and began lightly passing it between her feet.

   Ted grinned when she made a subdued spin using her right foot, always impressed by even the smallest tricks she'd perform.

  "Higgins told me you could that now!" The coach grinned. He was still in contact with the freshly sacked director of operations (well, he quit, but what was the difference when you had no other choice?), and knew from him that Ada was currently prioritising the pliancy of her stiff leg in their shared meditation classes.

    She opened her mouth to say how much she missed having Higgins around, an obvious jab at Rebecca that even Ted would understand, but paused when she saw the look on her face. Rebecca appeared mournful. Like she, too, missed him. Like she regretted all she did to hurt her closest companion.

    Which was strange to witness and hard to comprehend given the fact that Higgins actively aided Rupert more than Ada's silence ever did.

   She knew this because she had spoken with Higgins a few times since he left his job. During mediation, yes, but they also had a long conversation at the park. She took Phoebe there one afternoon, and had seen him pushing the youngest of his brood on the swings.

   Higgins told her of the guilt he'd felt all throughout his friendship with Rebecca; how he knew about Rupert's many affairs, how he would distract her whilst the adultery took place, and how he later aided her in her ploys in an effort to make up for his betrayals.

    So if Rebecca still cared for him despite everything, was it possible that she truly did forgive Ada all those months ago?

    (That changes nothing, She reminded herself. Just because Rebecca didn't do anything with the intention to hurt her didn't mean that Ada was any less hurt. No, not hurt, angry. Definitely angry.)

    Ted, too, noticed how his boss stiffened in her seat at the mention of their friend. "Tell you what," He said softly. "I sure wish Higgins was here to see this. 'Cause he'd be real happy for you."

    "Hope you mean Ada's little kicks and not my place on this magazine cover." Rebecca sighed. "When Higgins decided to quit, he made it quite clear what he thought about me, and it wasn't supportive."

    "Nope! I'm filing that under stinkin' thinkin' right there. Okay? I guarantee you, he'll come around."

    "Only if she makes it clear what she think about him." Ada snorted.

     Rebecca shoved the last of the shortbread in her mouth and sat up straight. "Right. I'm changing the subject. How's the team morale going into the final weekend?"

    Ted and Ada met eyes. The team's morale was usually a reflection of the captain's morale, and they both knew that Roy Kent wasn't doing too well.

   "I mean," The woman continued. "I'm still heartbroken about the last loss."

    "Are you?"

     The three turned to see Keeley leaning against the doorway, having come back from her chat with the ad runners. She had a knowing look in her eyes as she stared at Rebecca; not threatening or mean, but knowing. Like she wanted her to confess now. The same way she confessed to her over the weekend.

    All Keeley wanted was for this to be buried in the past. She wanted to hang out with Ada and Rebecca again; go shopping and get massages and sleep over at the older woman's mansion. And she wanted to see her best friend around Nelson Road; to have Ada keep her company during lunch breaks and to have her help reign in some of the players during brand meetings. And to just see her on the pitch during training, because that was what Ada loved doing more than anything.

    (The publicist was hurt, yes. But she understood. Keeley wasn't even friends with Rebecca when the picture with Ted was taken. And she herself had done many things to get back at her exes – not Jamie, never Jamie, which was where Rebecca drew a line, but still, it was all understandable.

   Hurt people hurt people.

   But then those hurt people hurt others.

    Rebecca taught Keeley that accountability mattered, that night in the gala bathroom. She wanted to see the preached words be practiced before she could truly forgive her. And if she knew her best friend, which she certainly did, then she knew Ada wanted the same.)

   "Of course." Rebecca frowned, but even she knew why her words wouldn't be taken seriously. No after everything.

   "Oh, Keeley," Ted sat up to chance a look at her over Rebecca's head. "Did those marketing folks from Tom Ford ever get back to you?"

   Keeley winced. "Uh, yeah, they said they're gonna stick with the models they already have – but, they did say that if they ever do an everyman campaign or something satirical, your name's on their list."

    "Alright," He grinned, looking over to Ada. "That's not bad. We could be modelling buddies."

    She snorted, "We could just switch careers or something if you're so fucking interested."

   "No, I wanna do it with you."

    "Ted," Keeley called softly. "Do you mind if I borrow the two of them for a second?"

    The man blinked. "Oh, sure, yeah, no. Girl talk." He stood from the bench, turning to Ada and Rebecca when they hesitantly followed suit. "See y'all at the conference later."

    "Conference?" The model snorted.

    "Yeah, the three of us, why not? I know we're not gal pals, but it'll be fun! Keeley said good things come in threes, remember?"

     Because, like, you both have three letter names and good things come in threes.

Ada tilted her head at him. Ted returned the gesture with a grin.

(Did she think nobody knew about her and Roy?)

"Yeah, no," She huffed, ignoring the suspicion in her gut. "What's the point in me attending? I wasn't even allowed to answer questions for the stupid article."

Ada was still bitter about that. Apparently, her management company already sent in their own list of answers for the interview portion, and all she had to do was pose for the fucking pictures. It never bothered her before – in fact, Ada loved it when she didn't have to speak to Vanity Fair about her morning routine or Cosmopolitan about her sex drive, but this was different.

She'd really been looking forward to talking about football. About her favourite players and the teams she supported and the importance of sports in culture.

Rebecca seemed to pick up on that pain. And she also picked up on the fact that Ada likely didn't want to do the conference was because Ted was suggesting that all three of them sit in. "Well, I'm busy, unfortunately. But you should go, Trouble."

"Aw," Ted frowned. "Always busy, boss. But, I gotta say, I respect the hustle." He then turned to Ada. "Guess it's just you and me, pal!"

And how could she deny him when he smiled at her like that? When he called her pal? When he so clearly wanted her there – to keep him company, yes, and to make up for the time spent apart these last two weeks, sure, but also to have her do what she'd promised to do during the last conference; advise him.

Ada missed that press meet because she'd been busy babysitting a little league team, but she was here now. And Ted trusted her mind enough to know that she could help him through this. Respected her, even when she wasn't wearing a pantsuit. Was assured despite the fact that all her own press conferences were a shit show (although, Ada supposed there was a difference between a football conference and any other sort – her infamous attitude would be necessary in dealing with sports journalists).

"I'll be there," She promised, lightly tapping his cheek.

And she would be there.

But, for some reason, she had to be here first.

Ada groaned as Keeley dragged her and Rebecca into the boot room.

"My God, it smells of feet in here. I mean, it just hits you immediately doesn't it? It's hot. Like feet funk, right up your nose. Can you smell it?"

Ada squinted at the older woman. "Can we fucking smell it? You mean, the stench of feet in a room full of shoes? What do you think?"

Keeley nudged her before turning to Rebecca with a glare in her eyes. "We think you're being a right floppy cock, Rebecca."

Ada blinked.

"Why haven't you told Ted yet? You already told me."

The answer was obvious enough, really. Telling Ted meant there was a chance of him quitting. And if Ted quit mid-season, then Richmond would no doubt lose more matches and get relegated.

But how could they take that reasoning when they now knew she'd been plotting against the team from the very beginning?

(In truth, Keeley and Ada didn't have to fully trust Rebecca to know that she'd been more genuine in her support since Liverpool. Since their girls trip. Since the wedding anniversary. Since witnessing Ted Lasso in a dire state.)

"I'm going to tell him!"

"When?" Ada had to ask, leaning against one of the shelves.

Rebecca shook her head. "I've done it once this week," She said, pointing to Keeley. "Imagine doing something unforgivable to someone who doesn't deserve it, and then having to look them in they eye and tell them what you've done."

"I don't have to imagine. I sat down and told you the truth about Rupert. It was hard, getting all of that out. But I did it. Because I thought you deserved the truth."

Accountability matters.

Keeley frowned as she watched the two exchange a deep, pained look. Their friendship was a pillar in both of their lives, she knew that. A pillar that predated Ada's success. A pillar that cracked with time spent apart, but never dared to crumble.

She didn't want it to crumble now.

   "I don't have to imagine, either," Keeley coughed in an effort to break the tense silence. "I've done it. Year eight, I took a shit in Joanna Wellington's locker. I apologised, I was uninvited to her birthday party, and then we patched it up a week later."

    "Sucks that you missed the party."

     Keeley gave her best friend a look before focusing back on Rebecca's frowning face. "Just fucking tell him."

    "Sorry," The woman shook her head. "Why did you do a shit in her locker?"

    "I don't know. I was thirteen." When that earned her blank looks, Keeley got defensive. "What? Teenage girls are, like, mysterious and dark and dangerous."

    Rebecca's eyes unintentionally flickered over to Ada. She was never mysterious, dark, or dangerous as a teenager. She'd been a beacon of light at those dull social events. A laugh at dinners. A delight in the otherwise boring Mannion home.

   The first time Rebecca saw her frown, it was because Jamie Tartt was playing a match in Germany during their seventeenth birthday. Ada was living in Manchester back then, and despite only having known her for a handful of months, Rebecca took the train north to pick her up and take her to a concert.

    She laughed then. And smiled.

    But she still missed her brother.

    "I called Jamie's agent," Rebecca confessed, watching as Ada's head snapped up at the mention of her twin. "Told him Richmond would love to have him back."

     The girl gave a sad smile, adjusting her position against the metal shoe rack. "Let me guess, he wasn't interested. Because he thinks Ted got rid of him, and that the only reason you all want him back is because Richmond's been losing."

    Jamie was not an angry boy. He never learned how to channel rage, not like Ada did. He was far more prone to hurt. And being given up on by this team hurt him more than anyone could imagine. Ada knew the feeling well, having felt a deep agony when her Arsenal teammates offered her no support post-injury.

   (It also didn't help that the call probably made him feel like a cash cow. Their father only ever saw Jamie as a goal scorer. A point raker. He wanted to be more than a player used to raise a ranking. Her brother wanted to be a teammate. Someone people gave a shit about.)

    "Well--"

    "I wonder why he would think that."

     Rebecca wasn't given a chance to say more, because suddenly the door to the room was opening. And in came Nate Shelley.

    "Oh, God. Sorry." The kit man gasped, ashamed to be interrupting. All three of them were frowning; Keeley in dread, Rebecca in pain, and Ada in too many things for him to identify within the span of this short lull. He felt it was his duty to lighten the mood. "I know women like shoes, but, girls, come on, this is silly."

    Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

    He clasped a hand on his mouth, apology muffled. "Sorry, that was really sexist. I, um, it's just -- I wasn't expecting anyone to be in here. But, um, you are in here. And that's great. Take as long as you need. I, um, yeah, I'll go. Sorry."

     They watched Nate go, scoffing in unison when he, in his nervous haste, forgot to shut the door.

   Ada pushed herself off the metal frame and went to close it. "He's me mate and I adore him, but if you need to replace him, I know a lad named Will who probably got sacked over a bag of skittles."

   Just as she was about to close the door to the boot room, her eyes locked on the door to the training room. It was just down the hall.

    "I mean, what would be the point of telling Ted now? It doesn't change anything." Rebecca was saying to Keeley in the background.

    The blonde frowned. "It would change how we feel about you."

    Rebecca stilled, eyes stinging as she took in the betrayed face before her. Her new friend, Keeley, who was such a force of joy that it felt sinful to see her so sad.

  She then looked over her shoulder, at the stiff girl behind her. Ada, who always came off so carefree and laid back that it felt beyond wrong to see her so rigid.

    "You know, I'm lying to him right now." The model said. "Ted. About you. It's all I think about when I see him."

    Ada didn't have to say more for her point to be made. She felt now, with Ted, the way she used to feel with Rebecca. Keeping the woman's secret was just like keeping Rupert's.

    You're better than him, Ada had told her outside the karaoke bar.

    Rebecca's eyes welled. She felt much worse than her ex husband.

    "Ada," Keeley cleared her throat when the quiet got too loud. "Conference should be starting soon."

   "I'm gonna check in with Roy." She mumbled absentmindedly, eyes still on the door. And when she felt them stare at the back of her head, the girl hurriedly added, "To tell him that he needs to work way harder at training later. Because, like, he's been super shit and I don't wanna waste me time."

    Ada all but ran out the room.

    And like Nate, she left the door open.

    Keeley and Rebecca, despite the wedge still lodged between them, had to share a look at that. A look coloured in both amusement and disbelief.

   (Did she think nobody knew?)

✷

    The sight that greeted her in the training room was as laughable as it was pitiful.

    Roy was submerged in a tall tub of ice water, a look of absolute despair on his face. And in the background, running on the treadmill and bellowing out a rather folksy, Spanish tune, was Dani Rojas.

   Ada's laugh caught the captain's attention.

   Roy's eyes darted away from the television and over to her. He forced his shoulders below the cold surface – in an effort to cool the sudden warmth washing over him, and to somewhat hide from her anticipated onslaught of japes.

    Ada softly shook her head at him and walked further into the room. "Dani!" She called, waving her hands to garner to his attention.

   "Ah, Ada!" The striker grinned, popping an earbud out. "Buenas días!"

    "Yeah, I'm good, you?"

     Roy shut his eyes. This girl was perhaps one of the smartest people he knew, but even then, she was still a Tartt.

   "Very well! Look, I have been running at consistent speed for almost a full hour."

    She bit back a grimace. So that explained Roy's obvious irritation. Here Dani was, unintentionally showing off his speed and agility, whilst the other man wallowed over his losses. It certainly didn't help that he was also watching pundits discuss the downfall of his career.

   "Very proud of you, Dani," She smiled. "Think I can have the room, though?"

    "Sí, of course!" He quickly turned off the machine, not a single sign of effort of exertion marring his happy face. The boy gestured between her and Roy. "I understand now. Colin explained it to me."

    She narrowed her eyes, and he returned the gesture – or, at least, Ada thought he did. It could be that his eyes were slanted in such a way due to his impossibly wide grin.

    She watched Dani hop off the treadmill and salute Roy goodbye. Once he was gone, she finally made her way over.

    "Lasso tell you to check on me?" He grumbled, frowning at the screen as it began displaying Jamie Tartt's impressive stats.

    Ada carelessly switched the television off, ignoring his irritated huff as she rested her chin on the lip of the tub. It took a stubborn moment for Roy to give in and turn to her.

   She knew he didn't want to talk about it yet, could tell from the way his shoulders stiffened and the way his eyelids were hooded. He must have thought she came here with the intention to force sad truths out of him, to wrap him in a suffocating blanket of comfort.

    He clearly forgot who Ada was.

    She smiled at him. And he thought she was beautiful.

    "You look like if Grumpy Cat got baptised."

    He also thought she was annoying.

     Ada removed one the hands propping up her chin, using it to stroke his cheek lightly before then dipping it into the ice water. She laced their fingers together.

    Always so warm.

   "I have a conference to get to," The girl groaned. "Told Ted I'd be there, make up for the one I missed last time."

    He absentmindedly played with her fingers. "Why'd you skip that one?"

   "I didn't skip it. I was substituting for Phoebe's little league coach, remember?"

    Of course, he remembered. Phoebe was always talking about how she was once coached by Ada Tartt. She liked to slip it into conversations with waiters and paediatricians and her mum's work friends. It made it all so much funnier when Ada admitted to him that she'd spent all her coaching time ranting about Jamie.

   "Anyways," She sighed. "I should go before Trent Crimm asks Ted what a fucking offside is."

     Roy shook his head. It was bad enough that the team had a shitty captain, but an incompetent coach? He felt a scorching heat bubble up inside him, and he didn't know whether it was rage or disappointment.

    Or Ada.

     He glanced down at her hand, distorted under the water. She was rubbing circles on the back of his. And when a small cube of ice bumped into her arm, he remembered her words from a few weeks ago – when she told him why Jamie put her phone in the freezer; "He knows I hate the cold so he put it in there."

Roy pulled their clasped hands out the tub, softly kissing her frozen fingers. To warm them up and to thank her. She watched him with a childish glint in her eyes, like she thought he was the most ridiculous man to ever exist.

"I'll see you at training." Ada laughed, pulling away from him.

He grabbed her chin before she could lift it off the plastic top, glancing at the door to make sure all was clear before placing his mouth on hers.

    So fucking warm.

    She immediately kissed him back.

Ada loved how cold his lips were. And how cool his tongue was as it made its swift entrance. And how soft his chilled fingers were as they traced her jaw.

"I'm gonna be late." She smiled, pecking his mouth a few more times before finally standing up.

Roy didn't want her to leave. Not because he was some sort of clingy baby, but because he knew most of the questions would likely pertain to him. No doubt they'd ask Ted why he wasn't benching the team's liability, and no doubt Ada would listen in. Maybe even be asked about it herself.

She didn't sign up for this, he thought to himself. When she kissed him in Liverpool, she thought she was kissing a winner. Now here he was, drowning in a literal pool of pitiful woes.

   He wondered how long it would take for her to grow bored.

"Oi, have fun."

She returned his sarcastic smile with her own bitter one, because they both knew she wasn't going to enjoy this. But, if Ada was going to be put through Hell, then those journalists were going with her.

    Ted was much nicer than she was, though.

"You know, David, we got one final game against Man City, and our goal is to go out like Willie Nelson. On a high."

The press laughed at his witty answer, David from The Guardian making sure to quickly jot the quote down before raising his hand again.

"Sorry, a connecting question," He waited for Ted to give his nod. Once he had approval, he surprised everyone by turning to Ada.

   She was sitting on the coach's right, and so far, had been asked about her new article, Women in Football, and was questioned by gossip journalists about her rumoured romance with Roy Kent. With her media training, she was able to give lengthy responses without truly answering.

    But, David knew Ada Tartt well. Had been writing about her since before she entered the modelling scene. And he knew that if they wanted to know more about her romantic relationships, they first needed to discuss the familial ones.

"Sorry, Miss Tartt, this one's for you." He watched her reluctantly sit closer to the microphone. "Who is it that you will be rooting for in this upcoming match against Man City?"

"I always find myself siding with the winners, David. No sense of loyalty in me, I'm afraid." The model answered blandly, smiling slightly when that earned laughs. "Um, no, I just say may the best players win."

"Would you say Roy Kent is the better player? Or your brother?"

"Oh, wow, a third question." She turned to Ted, but made sure the mic stayed close. "This is what happens when you give a dog a steak."

David conceded, bowing his head and sitting back down. But dog or not, the back door had been left open. And a bone sat right in the middle of the room.

Ted shook his head in amusement and pat her shoulder. He then turned back to the awaiting journalists. "Roger, how about you go?"

"Roger White. The Observer."

"Please, do observe." The coach grinned.

"Miss Tartt," The young man began, flicking through his notepad in search of his prepared questions. "We know you've been helping Richmond train. Would you say that your favouritism plays a role in the look of the team's lineup?"

Ada leaned back in her chair, picking up her own notepad. "Why would I have any sway?" She glanced at what she'd copied down minutes prior. "It says here, in The Observer's latest publication, that I'm just a silly little girl trying to relive her glory days."

Ted locked eyes with Beard, who stood towards the back of the room.

    She was fucking good.

Roger flushed red. Still, Ada had posed a question within her answer, which technically gave him journalistic liberty to voice another. As an up and coming writer, he could not let this opportunity slip.

"There have been rumours of your relationship with the team's captain. Would you not say that these rumours, if true, could have played a role in keeping him on the pitch?"

He didn't have to make his question any longer for everyone in the room to complete it in their heads; Could it have played a role in keeping Roy Kent on the pitch when he so obviously belonged on the bench?

Ada blinked, murmuring a not-so silent "The fucking state of journalism. Are they all here to talk about online discourse?"

Trent Crimm had to bite back a smile. Only Ada Tartt was ballsy enough to skirt around an all but spoken truth. Only she could treat the most public secret like it was a work of fiction. And only she could make Roger White, that irritating newcomer who had nothing but his father's surname keeping him employed, knock his knees together like a frightened child.

"Roger, you wrote, in the same article I read from earlier, that I'm seeking the security I lost after me career ended by living vicariously through the older man I supposedly took to bed." She tilted her head to the left, eyes bored as she appraised him. "I can tell you now that that's false. Okay? Serious answer for an unserious question. Kent's still captain because he's fucking good."

"He's good at fucking?"

Her eye twitched.

     Nate frowned sympathetically.

"Alright," Ted clapped. "Someone ask me something, I'm dying here. Feel like y'all like her more."

The tabloid writers slumped in disappointment. They'd fought to have their press passes secured, having sought the chance to ask Ada Tartt questions about her new campaign with Calvin Klein, and about the new tattoo she'd displayed on her morning walk last week. And, fine, yes, about the viral tweet, too.

"How about Trent Crimm? And if memory serves, you're from the Daily Planet, yeah?" Ted smiled when he heard Ada snort. She loved it when he mocked Trent's introduction, even if his intentions were never malicious.

The journalist rose from his chair, pulling his glasses off his face. "Trent Crimm, The Independent."

"Seem heavily dependent on that press pass, though. Would hate to take it away if you asked a silly question." Ada sang, leaning back in her seat.

The press laughed, quick to appreciate her snarky humour when it wasn't aimed at them.

Trent didn't laugh, though. Because he knew she was being serious. So, instead of chuckling, he gave her a small nod.

He knew, from that one day spent shadowing Ted Lasso, that the girl cared very much about the coach. Cared enough to sit through this conference. Cared enough to put up with the questions. Cared enough to meet his eyes now, and to silently ask that he be kind with whatever he posed next.

Trent cleared his throat before speaking. "Many of your young players, Coach Lasso, have improved during your tenure. Then, there's Roy Kent, who played dismally last match. Thoughts?"

Ada hated Trent Crimm and found herself hating his question, but she appreciated how he didn't spare her a single glance whilst asking it. As if to show that the rumours, true or not, did not matter. To show that even if she was with him, this was a question for Ted; because it was Ted who decided who played and who didn't. Ted who had sway and say.

Ada was just a coach's aid, sitting in on this conference because many had questions about the Women in Football article. And because she was willing to share a little bit of insight about training methods – not enough to give away their strategies and techniques, but enough to assure everyone that they were hitting all points.

    "Well, I think if you ask Roy himself, he'd tell you that it wasn't his best day." Ted shrugged. "But, I'll let you know right now that Roy Kent is the backbone of this team."

    Ada caught sight of the look on Beard's face. It was a look of disagreement. And disappointment.

    He'd told her and Ted, during halftime, that they should have someone sub in for Roy. Take number six out. And whilst Ada never liked to voice strong opinions at matches, she'd given Ted a light shake of her head that day.

    Did she regret it now? Maybe.

    Did she regret it then? Certainly not.

    Roy missed the one opportunity to score, sure, but the team was there for him afterwards. Pat him on the back and let him know all was well. Reminded him that they wouldn't have won even if he did score, given that they lost 3 – nil.

    (She was being a biased little girl. Fuck, she knew that. But Ada really couldn't help it. Not when she knew what it was like.)

     "Alright," Ted laughed after he, too, noticed Beard expression. "Let's mix it up in here a little. If you're an introvert, I want y'all to raise your hand. You guys got the next question."

    Ada quickly reached for the microphone. "Roger, keep your fucking hand in your pants, mate."

    "Ah!" Ted pointed to the raised hands. "That was a trick! If y'all were introverts, you would've been quiet as a church mouse. Unless that church was Westboro Baptist. Those turkeys won't shut up." He then cleared his throat. "And, uh, yeah, Roger, hand down. Thank you, son."

    After ten more minutes of easy questions, Ada and Ted were walking down the hall towards his office.

    She laughed as she hooked her arm with his. "Did you see his fucking face? Put your hand down, son, and he acted like you shot his dad. Face red like a tomato."

    Ted halted in his stride, forcing her to pause with him. He gave a weird smile, "What was that?"

   "What?"

    "Was that supposed to be my accent?"

    Ada snorted. "Don't look at me like that. It was accurate, alright?"

    "You wanna talk accents, Soufflé? He acte li you sho his da'. Face red li a tomao."

    The girl blinked at him. "What the actual fuck?" She scoffed, visibly offended.

    Ted frowned. "Sorry, was that mean?"

     Ada stared at him for a moment, and then she laughed. Because he was so Ted. It was well within his right to mock her back, just like Colin did whenever she'd tease his Welsh pronunciation, but this man before her now always seemed to be afraid of hurting her feelings.

    She lightly tapped his cheek, to let him know all was well, before pulling him towards their destination once more.

   Upon making it to the office, they were met with Beard and Nate; both of whom stood stock still with their arms crossed. The former wore his notorious deadpan, the latter failed to mimic it.

    "It's like the twins from The Shining, innit? Fucking hell."

    Ted gave her a chiding look, turning to his two friends. "Fellas, what's up?"

    Beard uncrossed his arms to gesture towards the leather two seater. "Please, have a seat."

   Ada and Ted exchanged a rather confused look before plopping down. They watched as the kit man and coach internally readied themselves for what they were about to say.

  "I feel like y'all are about to do some improv comedy. Or tell me that you're dating each other." Ted's eyes darted between them. "Either one's cool with me. 'Cause your suggestion is ally!"

    "Right." Ada snorted, pulling her legs up onto the settee. "But, if you are serious about each other, then you should know that your children will definitely look like horses."

    Ted nudged her. "Hey, now they'll never make you godmother."

    "Shit."

     Beard was not impressed. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, clearly searching for patience and strength, before looking back to the two on the couch. "We have to take Roy out of the starting lineup."

    Ada stiffened.

    "I see," Ted slowly nodded after a lengthy pause, lips pursed. "Um, okay. . ."

    "It wasn't just one bad game, Coach." His partner reminded him lightly. And it wasn't like Beard had a person vendetta, either. In fact, he rather liked Roy. The two shared an appreciation for order and an affinity for using few words. But what mattered now was the sport.

    The team.

    The fact that they were losing.

    Nate frowned in agreement. "He's showing his age, and he's made significant mistakes in each of the last five matches. We just haven't been bitten in the arse by them yet."

    "Okay, but," Ada sat up straighter in her seat. "That's just five matches. There's been about forty in the season. And he did really well in Liverpool."

    "That was a single goal, Ada." Beard sighed. "And it was weeks ago. Yesterday, our butts had teeth marks. Deep ones. The kind you usually have to pay for."

    "Trust me, I haven't paid for these." She snorted, stilling when everyone turned to face her. "Oh, you're talking generally. Yeah, no, I knew that."

    Nate scratched the back of his head.

    "Look," Beard cleared his throat. "I know this seems like a big thing. But it doesn't have to be."

    Ted went to speak, but Ada cut him off. "It is a big deal, though. To him, it will be." She stood from the coach, stopping in front of her friends. "Neither of you have ever played the game. Or breathed it the way he does. You don't know the pain of having it and then losing it."

    "But he has lost it." Nate told her softly. "Even if he doesn't sit out."

    Beard nodded in agreement, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can't be biased."

    And whilst his words were for her, the sharp look was for Ted. He knew his best friend would take Ada's opinion into deep consideration. That he'd rank it high on the list of validity not only because he loved her, but because he believed she was perhaps the greatest strategist alive.

    That was who Ted was. The sort of man who believed in people. Broken people, especially. Beard would know, he was one. And he recognised the care with which Ted dealt with Ada. And the empathy with which he was going to handle this Roy situation.

    "Why the fuck would I be biased?" Ada laughed, shrugging his hand off.

    Beard and Nate exchanged a look.

    (Did she think they didn't know?)

     Ted's phone suddenly dinged, brining everyone's attention over to him. He glanced at the text from Rebecca, claiming she had something to tell him, before standing up from the couch.

     The moustached coach wrapped an arm around Ada. "Guys, I'm not benching Roy. He's our captain. But, I want you to know that I value each of your opinions equally." He caught the men's looks of disbelief, and quickly relinquished his hold on the Tartt girl to emphasise his point. "Equally."

   "I was really hoping you were dating." Ada sighed, eyes darting between Nate and Beard. "Always wanted a pony."

    "Heck, I was really hoping it was going to be improv."

   

   

   

    

    

✷

   "I just saw Ted walking down the hall in backwards slow motion. So either you fucked with the space time continuum when you confessed, or you haven't told him yet."

    Rebecca, who had been banging her forehead against her desk, quickly glanced up at the familiar voice.

    Ada was stood by the door, frowning at her in disappointment. It was a look that didn't belong on a face so young, but one that had managed to make a home there.

  Because Ada Tartt was a girl who was constantly getting screwed over. By herself and by others and by the universe. By the sport she loved and the career she hated. By friends and foes. Families and strangers.

   By Rebecca.

   The woman stood from her chair. "I was going to tell him, but I chickened out."

   "Bex," She sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over her face.

    "No, no," Rebecca shook her head, ignoring the warm feeling washing over her. It was good to hear that nickname being used. She thought she would hate it now that there was another Bex in the picture, but being referred to by her given name these last two weeks felt awful. She wanted for Ada to always know her as Bex. "I'm going to tell him now. I was working up the courage, that's all."

    Ada glanced at her messy blonde hair and pale face. The guilt was getting to her. "You don't look very courageous to me."

    Rebecca rolled her eyes and went to offer some sort of rebuttal, but their conversation was interrupted by someone barging into the office. And unlike that morning, it wasn't someone as innocent as Nate.

    Although, he seemed to be just as clumsy today.

    "Surprise!" Rupert sang as he abruptly entered, accidentally walking straight into Ada, who'd remained by the door. She would've toppled over, but he was quick to steady hear by the shoulders. "Oh, sorry, Trouble."

     She rolled her eyes.

     Rebecca narrowed hers.

     "Rupert."

     "She seems anxious, doesn't she?" The man snorted, glancing over at Ada.

   He thought this was all rather familiar, the three of them stood in this office. Ada dressed in clothing appropriate for training. He and Rebecca sporting professional garb.

    It reminded Rupert of when the girl would visit. When they'd take her out for lunch. When Rebecca would meet them at Nelson Road so that they could take the car from here to the restaurant.

   She'd enter the office, as abruptly as he just did, and would always give them her most unimpressed look; "Why are you two kicking a ball around in here? And Ada, why aren't you dressed properly?" to which Rupert would always teasingly reply, "She seems anxious, doesn't she, Trouble?"

    Ada used to laugh, back then. Would join him in teasing her. Would playfully ask after Rebecca's nerves. She did none of those things now, merely rolling her eyes again and moving over to perch herself on the desk.

    (Behind Rebecca.)

     Rupert cleared his throat, focusing his attention on his ex wife. "Where's Higgins?"

    "I fired him." She replied, appearing disoriented. She'd been prepared to apologise to Ted moments ago, and now she was being confronted by the driving force behind her scheming.

    "Why? Higgins is first class!" He then nodded his head, as if understating why Rebecca would fire him. "Except the only negative about the man was that whenever he burrowed a pen from me, he would nibble the top like some anxious little puppy."

    Rebecca stared incredulously as Rupert walked past her and made his way over to the desk. She watched as he picking up a pen from the cup beside Ada, holding the ballpoint up to show the chewed-on cap.

    "Maybe he was nervous because you were his fucking boss." The model mused watching as he prodded the pen's tip.

    "Well, he's gone." Rebecca exhaled sharply. The mention of her friend wasn't helping her anxiety. Or her guilt. Or her pain. And neither did the image of these two people, both of whom she'd once considered family, sat so closely together.

    Ada was mad at her now. Would she go back to Rupert?

   The man's next words didn't help quell her fear.

   "Shame. Oh, well, maybe he'll accept my offer now." He turned to Ada. "Funny, seeing as it's mostly been others coming to me with offers recently. Tell me, did your friend make it back into town alright?"

    Rebecca watched the girl stiffen, and felt the need to end this conversation there and then. Before he could ruin everything. "Look, Rupert, are you here to try and buy back the club or--"

   "No," He sighed dramatically. "I wanted to tell you something before you heard it somewhere else."

    "Well, nice of you not to drag Ada into it this time."

    It was hypocritical to say, she knew that, but the laugh in Ada's eyes assured her that no harm was done. It was as if she wanted Rebecca to win whatever war was currently taking place.

   "Bex and I are having a baby."

   But the war was lost before it began.

    Ada watched as Rebecca paused. As the life force was drained out of her. As her blonde hair seemed to whiten. As her padded shoulders slumped, like a massive weight had been dropped onto them.

   And wasn't that what this was, a weight? A realisation so ugly that it couldn't possibly be true? A knife so large that, when shoved in her back, it cleaved her in two instead of lodging itself in her spine?

   "But you always said that--"

    "I thought we could be mature about this."

    Ada glared at him, not liking the condescending way in which he spoke to his ex wife. "Any more mature and you'd be a bag of fucking bones, Rupert."

    That jab, so quick that it barely had time to sting, seemed to light a match. And Rebecca, who'd been choking on gasoline since her marriage was torn apart, was set alight. "You're nearly seventy and you're going to have a baby? I mean what are you, a character from the fucking bible? When your kid hits puberty, you'll be nothing but a pile of dust a black Amex card!"

    None of the biting insults affected him. He, who had barbed wire for veins and acid for blood. He, who bore a laughing smile as he pat Ada on the head and stood from the desk, approaching Rebecca like she was a beggar on the street.

    Like he was doing her a favour by even being here.

   "Now, now, darling."

   Rebecca flinched, "Don't call me that."

    "People change. Look at us, we all changed." Rupert briefly glanced over his shoulder. "Trouble, you were going to make it big. Now you're here." He turned back around. "Rebecca, you hated this building, now you're here, too. And me. I wanted to stay, and, well, now I'm gone. And I want a child. Really, I do."

   "You said--"

   "I suppose I just didn't want one with, well, you know. . ."

    With you.

    With her.

    With Rebecca.

     Rebecca, who only ever loved. And who only ever hated because love was ripped from her. Who was a good wife to him. Who would've been a good mother.

    Ada slowly stood when she noticed the tears welling in the the woman's eyes. When she saw her lip tremble, and her fists clench in an effort to subdue them.

   This office. Rupert. Tears. The pot of coffee currently sitting by the desk. Another woman's name on his tongue. This was all so very familiar.

    The only difference was that it wasn't her crying now.

   But that didn't mean it would be Rebecca running away, Ada knew. Because she was stronger than that. Powerful. Respected.

   The kind of person that little girls looked up to.

    "We're hoping for a little girl." He smiled. Both Rupert and Rebecca's eyes subconsciously flickered over to a frowning Ada. "But it doesn't really matter, now, does it? I mean, in the end, it's just about having a healthy child. And it's all about being with the right person. Isn't it?"

    The woman swallowed the lump in her throat, giving him a bitter smile. "Of course."

   "Oh, I'm so glad I got to tell you this in person. I would've hated for you to read it in the press." Rupert clasped his behind his back and stole a glance around the office. As though he were a home owner wishing the oak floors and cherrywood doors goodbye. "Good luck against Man City, by the way."

  They watched him skip towards the door, both biting back pained groans when he paused to look back at them.

   Or rather, at Ada.

   "Hope you and your friend are happy together." The man grinned. And just when she opened her mouth to ask who he was referring to, Rupert held up a last week's paper. "Hope he's worth the fifty thousand pounds."

     Ada and Rebecca stood in silence for at least two minutes after his departure. Neither of them felt the need to speak of what happened.

    But, Ada was a Tartt, and when she wasn't feeling the desire to be as vague as possible, then she was fighting the urge to explain everything.

    "I don't know what he was talking about. Like, just thought you should know. I think old age is eating away at his brains or something."

    Rebecca snorted.

   Did she think nobody knew?

    Rebecca had known for years. Well, sort of. She knew Ada fancied Roy Kent since she was a teenager – even if she never admitted it. She could remember the girl coming up to her at one of the first galas they attended together, asking if Roy Kent was present.

   Apparently, Ada really wanted an autograph for her brother, but Rebecca had seen stars in her eyes at the mere prospect of meeting him. And it could've just been the sort of excitement which all sports fans felt at the idea of brushing shoulders with legends, but Rebecca soon learned it was more.

    She noticed it in the way Ada complained about him years later. How, when listing his flaws, she'd name the most specific ones. Flaws that nobody would necessarily notice. And then there was the way she'd perk up whenever he walked into a room – because she was ready to insult him, yes, but also because she knew nobody else could match her in wit.

   And Roy. It was so fucking obvious. How he used to glance up at the box seats whenever Ada attended a match. How he'd look to her every time he scored a goal during training. How he seemed to genuinely listen to every barb she'd spit at him – odd when considering the fact that many would choose to ignore such insults.

    And the way Ada was glowing recently. The way her hollow face was filling out and the way her smiles were wider. The way that she was clearly being cared for, in a way that nobody had taken care of her since she left home as a young girl.

    The way Rebecca failed to care for her in recent months. Because Rebecca was busy scheming. Ruining lives in her quest to feel better about her rather pitiful one.

     "I'm going to tell him." She whispered brokenly after the lull, wiping away a runaway tear. "Ted. I'm going to tell him."

    "You don't have to do it now."

    "What you said earlier. About having to lie whenever you see him. Because of me." Rebecca shook her head. "I want to be better than Rupert."

   She watched Ada frown to herself. Watched her walk over softly, as though she were afraid of scaring her. It was ridiculous, but strangely comforting.

    (It was the only way Ada knew how to approach someone after they got hurt by a mean man.)

    "You already are better than him."

     "No, I'm not. Not yet." Rebecca sniffled, grabbing the girl's hands in her own and squeezing them something fierce. "I'm sorry about everything I did, everything that hurt you. And everything that hurt anyone."

    "I know."

     And Ada really did know. And she wondered if her mother would've gone down a similar path of destruction had she not had two children to worry about.

     "I don't want you to forgive me yet, okay?" She gave her a watery smile. "I'll make up for it first."

    I'll make up for it.

    "That's me line."

     "I know."

Ada watched as Rebecca began marching towards the door, still powerful despite her tears. Still tall despite feeling small. The girl took back what she said earlier about her not looking courageous.

She was a fucking lion.

   

    

   
✷

    "She hugged me."

      Ada smiled to herself, nodding as she continued to watch the pre-training drills from her place by the stands. "She's a good hugger."

    "She's a good person." Ted told her. "Now, I know I ain't the smartest man to come from Kansas, that might have to go to Eisenhower, or Mr. Paul Rudd, I ain't too picky, but I did notice the tension between y'all."

    Ada dragged her eyes away from a heaving Roy to look at her dear friend. He was giving her a sad smile, like he saw right through her.

    "It sucks, don't it? When you feel like you can't be hurt because the person hurtin' you is doing worse?"

    Ted had gone through the same thing with Michelle. She had felt trapped in the marriage which he'd always considered to be a haven. And it was hard to hate her for wanting out. Impossible to ask that she stay. Because he was hurt, but she'd been hurting for longer. And he was hurt by her, but she was hurt by her own inability to feel what he felt.

    "Rebecca and I are gonna be okay."

     Ted nodded. "Oh, I know. But it's alright if you aren't okay right now. I won't be mad if you miss practice, pal."

    "Training." Ada grinned at him. "And, uh, I already missed a lot of it, so. . ."

    So please let me stay in the only place that'll accept me at my worst.

    "Okie-dokie." He said softly, putting his whistle in his mouth and leading her over to the sidelines. The two stood by Beard, watching as the team huddled closer.  "Alright! Let's get it going, huh? Gather up. All of you, yeah, come on."

    "Ada!" Isaac and Colin cheered.

    "Alright, boyos?" She smirked at them, rocking on Converse clad feet. "What do you call a Mexican that lost his car?"

     Roy shook his head.

     Dani smiled curiously.

     "Hey," Ted nudged her. "I really wanna know the punchline to that joke, but we got work to do, okay? And we cannot waste a single second of drills, gentlemen, because your body is like day old rice."

     "Fucking what?" Isaac muttered.

     "If it ain't warmed up properly, something real bad could happen."

    A chorus of ah's echoed around the pitch, the confusion and mild offence quickly turning to understanding.

   "Food poisoning is no joke." Sam warned his teammates when he felt like they were focusing too hard on just the metaphorical warning. "One time, I was being sick, and at the same time, I was having diarrhoea."

    Ted winced, remembering his own bad luck with Indian food. "Yep. That'll happen. Anybody else wanna share? This is a safe place, y'all. Don't be shy just because we got a model here. It's just Ada."

    Dani glanced around the pitch as he pointed to Sam. "To be able to do both those things at the same time? The body is a miracle!"

    They all nodded in agreement, letting out various sounds of appreciation.

    "You don't know the true meaning of miracle until you've sneezed during an orgasm." Ada told them honestly.

    Colin laughed, "You remember when that happened to me as well?"

     "Oh, yeah!"

      Roy's ears flushed red with mild irritation.

   (He'd never admit to the feeling of relief that washed over him when Isaac began laughing as well.)

   "Who was that girl, bruv? Tell me so we can send her an apologetic letter."

    "Oh, um, I don't remember." The Welshman shrugged.

   "Can you even spell apologetic, Isaac?"

    He frowned at Ada, "Can you?"

     "Hey, hey, enough," Ted chided, waving his hands around like he was swatting at a large fly. "I'll give it to ya, y'all are quick with that back and forth. Now what I need is for y'all to be quick to halt on the field."

    "Oh, good transition, that." Ada nodded with respect.

   "Why, thank you very kindly." He cheesed. "Fellas, speed is important. We all know that. But being able to stop and change directions quickly? Well, that's like Kanye's 808s Heartbreak – it don't get nearly enough credit."

    Tommy Winchester, notorious for his love of Kanye West, raised his fist in support of his coach's statement.

    Sam, deeply devoted to Taylor Swift, quickly pulled his friend's arm back down.

    Ada and Roy exchanged a secret glance, incredibly amused. They looked away before anyone could catch them.

    And they had to bite back those stupid smiles again.

    "Okay, so, let's line up on these cones Nate put out. Let's go." Ted waited a moment, giving them time to do as ordered before picking up his whistle. "Last one to start, stop, then start again is a rotten egg. Let's do it!"

     The exercise began as soon as the whistle was blown.

     "Hey, tell us that Mexican car joke."

      Ada shook her head. "No, I can't do that whilst they're running drills. It would be unfair."

     "You're right." Ted sighed in agreement. "You're a good kid. Why don't I tell a joke instead, hmm?" He glanced over at Beard. "Coach, listen to the joke I'm about to tell, it's a good one. I thought of it in the shower this morning. What does a British owl say?"

    "What?" Ada grinned, shoving her hands in the pockets of her dark blue joggers.

    "No, no, y'all gotta say what at the same time. Quick, okay? Hey, Coach, get ready. What does a British owl say?"

     "What?"

     But, again, Ada was alone. She and Ted exchanged a rather peeved look before turning to their friend. They took a step closer to him and watched as he took one as well. In the opposite direction. To get away from them.

     Ted didn't seem to immediately catch on, taking another step closer. "I was saying earlier that--" He blinked when it happened again. "You're acting like I'm chasing you with a booger or something."

    "No," Ada shook her head. "Jamie used to do that to me and I took it like a fucking champion. Beat him to the ground and all. Never seen anyone run away like that."

    She watched as Ted contemplated her words before running at his partner. Whether it was to tackle him or confront him, nobody knew. Because Beard was quicker. And he wanted nothing but space.

    "Okay, alright, I see what's going on here. This is about Roy, ain't it?"

    Ada frowned when Beard made no move to accept or deny the allegation, "Are you fucking serious?"

     "Oh, wow, cold shoulder and the silent treatment. That's a combo. Does it come with a medium drink?" Ted expected a chuckle at least, but his best friend was as silent as the grave and Ada was now watching practice with a pinched expression.

     "Fine." He shrugged, looking over shoulder at Nate. "Hey, Nate, what does a British owl say?"

    The kit man stilled by the refreshment table, glancing around skittishly before running off.

    "Oh! You gonna do that move where you act like you don't hear me and then you just walk away, huh? Yeah, okay." The coach quickly made his way over to stand by Ada. "It's us against them. We're in the right, they're in the wrong."

    Ada bit at the skin around her thumb as she gave him a hesitant nod.

     Roy was struggling.

    He was the slowest out there, and his stops were harsh and blunt. There was no Rojas agility or Hughes swiftness. He was already out of breath.

    "Fuck!" The captain grunted as he ran another line.

    "You got this, Roy!" Ted clapped. He nudged Ada. "Encourage him."

    "Since when do I do that?"

     "Fuck!"

      She rolled her eyes when Ted nudged her again. "Um, yeah, swear it out, Kent!"

   "What she said, buddy! Swear it out!"

     "Fuck!"

      The two watched as he dropped to the ground, heavy breaths wracking his muscled body.

    "Shoot." Ted mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He dropped his head when he felt Beard's knowing glance burn the side of his face.

    "No," Ada shook her head. "No, you cannot give up. He'll be better tomorrow. I made him go three rounds this morning, that's all. He's tired."

    The coaches slowly turned to her. Beard had to take his glasses off to ensure that she saw him rapidly blink in disbelief.

    "I mean," Ada swallowed thickly. "Did I say rounds? I meant sets. Of pull outs -- fuck, pull ups!  Pull ups, three sets. He's dead tired now."

     "Right." Beard slowly nodded. He put his glasses back on and sighed, looking over to Ted.

    The moustached man took another second to stare at Ada, eyes wide, before allowing for his gaze to drift over to the pitch. Over to Roy, who was still kneeling whilst his teammates ran twice as many lines at twice the speed.

    "Okay." He finally mumbled. "I'll talk to him."

    Beard felt no sense of satisfaction at finally having his word be heeded. "You want me there with you?"

    "Nah, this'll be great."

     It didn't go great.

     Ada could immediately tell. It was written on the lines of betrayal marring Roy's face when he walked into her house later that afternoon. She gave Phoebe a quick kiss on the forehead before standing up to approach him.

   "Fuck's she doing here?" He frowned.

    "Oh, she was supposed to go to her friend's house, but had the mum drop her off here instead. Because, you know, I'm way cooler." Ada grinned childishly, but he stayed pouting. She reached up and pulled at his bottom lip with her teeth.

    Roy rushed to turn the nip into something deeper, but Ada put her hand on his chest before he could.

    "Slow down," She snorted, glancing over shoulder. Phoebe was still sat the table, her back to them as she worked on the little project Ada had assigned her. "We can't do that when little kids are around."

    "Yeah, we can. Especially when they aren't looking."

    Ada hesitated for a second longer before cupping the back of his neck and giving him a quick kiss on the mouth. He sighed in both relief and exhaustion. And rested his head against hers when they pulled apart.

    "I don't think I've ever had a child in me house before," She was whispering despite the fact that Phoebe was listening to music with noise cancelling headphones on.

     Roy gave her another kiss. "What about Jamie?"

     She rolled her eyes and pushed him away, watching as he smiled to himself. But the smile didn't meet his eyes. Not like it usually did when he made a jab about her brother.

He walked over to the window, shoulders slumped and hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket as he stared out at her neighbourhood.

    Ada walked up behind him, threading her arms through his and wrapping them around his middle. "Speaking of the childish," She sighed against his back. "We can't let her go snooping around. Don't want her finding the toys."

     Roy snorted. "Yeah, no, that's gonna be a problem. Her mum says she's not allowed to play with anything until after she finishes her homework."

     Ada looked back again. The girl was still reading over the little project they'd been working on, nodding to herself after every few lines and bopping her head along to the music.

    Phoebe said she had a hard time memorising things. Said it usually got her in trouble at school, because she always forgot her definitions and could never remember her times table. Ada told her that her little brother was the same once, and that she'd once helped him learn to memorise by listening to music.

  It seemed to be working on Phoebe, too.

   Ada went to tell Roy all about it, but paused when she caught his reflection in the window's freshly waxed glass. He wasn't pouting like he was before, but he still looked glum.

    Ada slowly unlaced her sleeveless arms from around him. "Hey, are you alright?"

    "I'm fine."

    She frowned. This had been going on for days, and whilst she'd never been one to force talks, it was obvious that he wanted to say something. Roy didn't look the way he did that morning, in the ice tub. He'd been dreading the idea of discussing his feelings then; tense and tight.

    This was different. There was no dread, only sadness. He wasn't rigid, but weighted. Like it cost him to stand. And he was distant; his eyes were far away, and his mind even farther still.

    Ada walked backwards towards the couch, her eyes on his back as he kept gazing out the window. "Remember what you said at the park, about how we always have to say shit we want to say?" She plopped down on the sofa. "Well, you can act like you don't want to, but I always know when someone's dying to talk to me."

     He shook his head lightly, knowing that to be factually incorrect. He'd seen it at the gala, how all those men, varying in ages and professions, were practically begging for her attention. But she'd been too busy squabbling with her brother and giggling with Keeley and annoying London to notice any of them.

     And those men in the karaoke bar. And the ones at matches. And at restaurants during the rare team outing. 

She never cared to notice.

    But she obviously noticed him. More than that, she noticed things about him. Like how he did, in fact, have a lot on the tip of his tongue.

    Roy turned to look at her. She was sat on the couch, gazing at him, boyish cut wavy from her shower. She was wearing a pair of light blue boxers, the colour complimenting her tanned legs, and a short sleeve which he recognised to be Jamie's (nobody else owned a white shirt with the word Icon splashed across the chest in small, black lettering).

   He could make out the blonde hairs on her beautiful forearms.

    And could see the way her eyes lit up when he began making his way over.

    Ada.

   Ada, who he could talk to.

  Ada, who Ted probably fucking talked to.

   "You already know what I have to say," He groaned as he neared her. "Lasso fucking tells you everything."

    She grabbed his hand when he was close, quickly pulling him down beside her. "I want you to tell me everything, too."

    Roy clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath before finally opening up, "You know, the last time I was on the bench--"

    "Oh, wait! Sorry!"

      He blinked, watching as she jumped from the couch and ran over to his niece. She pressed a few buttons on her phone, probably changing the song or something, and then ran back.

    "Sorry. I always know when Fake Plastic Trees is about to play. Would hate to see her cry." Ada smiled, reaching under the couch and pulling out a quilt. "Blanket? You look cold."

    Roy took it from her and put it back down, grabbing her hand instead. "Listen. Roy Kent's been the best player on every team he's been on since he was a kid." He grit his teeth. "I like being Roy Kent. I don't know if can handle just being some loser called Roy."

    He couldn't remember a time in his life when he didn't have a ball under his foot. Couldn't recall a time when he wasn't great. To be scouted so young, and to leave home before you were ready, it made you cling to any available comfort. To Roy, who'd always found it difficult to communicate, that comfort was the game itself.

That was it for him.

   He was embraced by a world which was as rough as it was comforting. As cold as it was warm. Because that was what football was; this beautiful blend of both. It hurt you and it loved you. And you hated it and loved it back.

   "Alright, Roy? Yeah. What you been up to? Fuck all." He shook his head. "I mean who the fuck is Roy? And what the fuck do I do when I'm not playing? It's all I've ever known. It's who I am. It's all I am."

    Ada scooted closer to him, hand still in his as she listened intently and refused to interrupt. Because she understood. God, did she understand. The adrenaline and the sweat and cheers and the praise and the grass and the blood and the grime and the laughs and the tears and stench and the gold and the love and the joy and the rage; fucking football.

    She'd been playing since before she could walk. There was a picture of her in her father's wallet, cuddling a ball in her sleep. James had been a young man with aspirations once, and when teen romance led to teen pregnancy and teen marriage, he had to give it up. But he played on weekends. And kept footballs around the house. And watched the game on their shitty television whenever possible.

    And when he picked up bad habits and walked out, his children inherited his dream. And the Maradona poster. And the old Man City shirts. And the collection of deflated footballs. And the prerecorded matches that they used to watch over and over again instead of cartoons.

     Ada remembered that when she got scouted, it was the first time he told her he was proud of her.

    "And I know you know what I'm talking about." Roy turned to her. "But at least you were never a has-been."

    His career should've ended a long time ago. Before he lost his touch.

    "I'm a never-was, Roy."

    Her career shouldn't have ended when it did. Before she could fully make it.

   "No, you were amazing." Roy huffed. "Everyone fucking knows. Even that little shit over there knows." He pointed over to Phoebe before meeting eyes with the girl beside him. "Trust me, being remembered as a great is way more fucking respectable than being benched because you no longer are. Who's gonna remember just Roy?"

    Ada stared at him incredulously. "Who's gonna-- fucking everyone!" She cupped the side of his face with her free hand. "You're Roy fucking Kent. And you feel like less than that now, but you're not. I thought I was, too, okay? We're not less."

   It was funny, how it sometimes took a nonbeliever to turn you into a preacher.

   "Your name and number still rule the pitch." He reminded her lightly. Those stats from the tv were burned into his eyelids. They were fucking amazing, the kind of numbers that only the Tartt twins could achieve. Goals doubling the number of assists. "Once I'm gone, I'm fucking gone."

    And that was somewhat true. Even Ada, whose ideologies differed, could acknowledge that her name and number still lived on without her – well, just her name now that Jamie was back to being fifty one, but still. Football was about legacy. It always had been. Passed down like folk tales and heirlooms. Sewn into the flesh like an ancestral tapestry.

    She and Jamie had worn their father's name when he couldn't play.

   Jamie now wore hers.

   Who would wear Roy's?

    Ada's eyes flickered over to the little blonde girl sat at her dining table.

    "Phoebe!" She called out, leaning away from Roy so that her voice was closer. She kicked him when she felt his hand slide up the back of her shirt. "Ph-stop! Roy, stop. Trouble!"

    That somehow got the girl's attention. She turned around in her chair, slipping the headphones off.

    "Can you come here for a second, please?" Ada smiled, watching as Phoebe skipped over. She was wearing an adorable pink outfit, blonde hair styled into two little buns at the top of her head. The model made a quick note to introduce her to Keeley.

    "You were right, Uncle Ada. Radiohead is super cool." She chirped, perching herself on the coffee table in front of the couch.

  "You know, she hasn't even said hi to me."

    "Hi, Uncle Roy."

    "God, Roy, not everything is about you." Ada rolled her eyes before pausing and turning to Ph0ebe. "Actually, Pheebs, we might have to make him the centre of attention just this once, okay? I need you to close your eyes for me and, in your own words, describe your Uncle Roy."

    Phoebe's eyes darted between the two. "You aren't going to snog when I close my eyes, are you?"

    "I'll tell your mum you abandoned Maisie if you don't close your beautiful eyes." Ada sang, watching the little girl blush and do as told. "Okay, so, everything you can think of, alright? Go."

     It took an embarrassing amount of effort for Roy to pull his eyes away from Ada. Why would he want to look away from her? Why, when she talked to his niece as if they themselves were relatives? When she bothered remembering the name of Phoebe's best friend, Maisie? When she was the same girl that let him complain about being benched – even though she would probably sell her soul for the opportunity to just wear the fucking kit?

    "Well," Phoebe began, finally garnering his attention. "He's my uncle. His beard is scratchy. He buys me ice cream. He swears a lot. He's really funny. He has a cool friend. And I love him."

    Ada watched as Roy looked away, clearly hiding the small smile on his face. It filled her heart with warmth, and she briefly wondered about the last time he was praised for being a man. Not for being number six or for being captain. But for being just Roy.

    Ada really, really liked just Roy.

    "Good girl, Trouble." She softly praised, watching as Phoebe smiled with her eyes closed. She then grabbed Roy's scruffy chin and turned his head to face her. "See? I didn't hear anything about being a footballer."

     He glanced at his niece, shrugging in a show of indifference. One that juxtaposed the mirth and love in his eyes. "Who gives a shit what she has to say? She's six."

   "Hey! I haven't made a single good decision since I was six." Ada smiled when he gave her an unimpressed look. She glanced at Phoebe, making sure her eyes were still shut, before leaning forward and dotingly kissing him. "Fine, maybe I've made, like, one good decision since then. But the point still stands; you don't know what people think about Roy Kent."

    "What do you think about Roy Kent?" He asked, gaze soft.

      "It doesn't matter. It only matters what you think about him." The model grabbed his hand. "But, I believe in Roy Kent. Even when I didn't know I did. And I believe in just Roy, too."

    Roy stared at her for a moment before scrunching up his nose. It was the look he made when fighting the urge to smile.

Ada really loved it.

She waited for him to glance down like he always did after the nose scrunch and the light head shake, and then she looked over at the girl sat on the table. Phoebe, whose eyes were now open and who was still smiling. Phoebe, whose smile widened astronomically when Ada gave her a grateful wink. Phoebe, who finally memorised something.

("Your uncle's gonna be a bit upset when he comes over later, so we're gonna write a little list of the things we really love about him, okay? And then, you're gonna read it to him from memory. So that he feels better. And so that he takes us out for ice cream again.")

A nice calm settled over the living room as Roy stretched his arm over the back of the couch. And as Ada scooted closer. And as Phoebe plopped down in the small space between them, laying her head on her uncle's shoulder.

Ada bit back a laugh when the seven year old nudged her. "Roy, I think we should go for ice cream."

His eyes, which had been studying her picture wall again, narrowed as he slowly turned to face her.

"And then we can stop by and see Ted." She added rather pointedly, looking at him over Phoebe's head.

"Fuck are we seeing him again for?"

"So you can apologise for whatever it was that you said to him."

Roy rolled his eyes, but made no move to deny her words. Or to deny her. He just leaned his head back and let out a groan.

"Is Uncle Roy a bully, Uncle Ada?"

"I like him."

      She watched his nose scrunch up again.

✷

"I'm getting serious déjà vu," Ted huffed, clearly drunk, as Ada Tartt flipped off the driver that nearly ran him over.

       "Fucking knob." She scoffed, turning to look at Ted. "Y'right?"

    The coach glanced down at the hand on his chest. The one that had pulled him back and saved him from the same fate which had befallen many a stray animal. "Wow, thank you."

     Roy just grunted.

   "That's caveman for you're welcome." Ada wrapped an arm around Ted's shoulder. "Let's get you home."

    "You staying over?"

     "Um," She gave Roy a teasing glance over her shoulder. "Maybe. I have nothing better to do."

    Ted, who'd spent the entirety of their short walk back to his flat rambling about this country's lack of jelly, was quick to pick up the jar of peanut butter as soon they all stepped into his kitchen.

   "Okay, see?" He held it out. "Y'all got peanut butter. I mean, it tastes way more peanut-y than I would prefer, but, what can ya do? Natural ingredients and adding vowels to words, that's what this nation does best. But y'all's jelly? There's jam. And that weird gunky stuff,"

    "Marmite," Ada supplied, frowning at Roy as he sat down. "Hey, no, that's me seat."

     He rolled his eyes and moved one chair over.

    "Marmite, yeah." Ted mumbled, unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter and sticking his finger inside. "All the weird stuff that tastes like a farm, y'all got it. But no jelly."

    "Is jelly not jam?" Roy asked, irritated with this never ending conversation. He quickly leaned away when Ted held out the blue jar of Sun Pat. "I'm good."

    "You got a nut allergy?" The coach frowned sympathetically, scooping out a dollop with his finger and popping it in his mouth.

    "I got a finger allergy."

    Ada snorted from beside him, her mind clearly in the gutter.  She grinned when Roy shot her an unimpressed look.

    "Well," Ted sighed, eyes scouring his bare cupboards. "What else can I offer y'all? Soufflé, I ate all the cookies I bought you during the two weeks you've been on sabbatical."

   "Yeah, sorry about that, Ted."

    "I love when people get distracted by life's greatest gift." The man shrugged, moving over to his cluttered stove. He lifted the lid to one of the pots. "Oh, we got two-day old pasta water."

    Ada tilted her head at the first thing he said.

    Roy, who already suspected Ted knew due to the whole secretly seeking Diamond Dog council thing, squinted at the pot of water instead.

    "Tea's fine." He eventually sighed. "Look. I'm sorry I told you to go fuck yourself. I'm usually better at hiding my anger."

     Ted stilled by the kettle, turning to glance over at the two seated at his kitchen table. Roy seemed to be completely serious, and Ada was nothing but amused by it.

   She was always amused these days.

   "You think so, huh?"

     The captain shrugged at his coach, a small smile on his face as he silently admitted to being a bit of a grouch.

   He seemed more amused these days, too.

   Cookies and cream.

    "Know thyself." Ted nodded before pointing up towards the beyond. "Rest in peace, Socrates."

    Ada shook her head lightly and watched as her friend pulled out the mugs. She stood up to get the teabags, deciding to help him out a bit.

Tea was not his strong suit.

     "Told my niece I might not be playing." Roy leaned back in his chair. "She asked if I could still afford to buy her ice cream."

     Ted shrugged. "Well, hey, at least she's money conscious, right? How was the ice cream?"

     "Fucking amazing." Ada sighed, getting the milk out of the fridge. "I had a pistachio flavoured one. Never had it before because it always seemed like something only old men would like – and when Roy ordered it, I knew my suspicions were right. But it's really good. Old people are onto something."

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose.

    Ted blinked. He leaned against the counter as he watched her man the tea station. "Well, that's nice. I love it when you try new things. So brave."

     "Brave?" The captain squinted. "It's fucking ice cream. She's just weird about food that's green."

     "See, all this talk about ice cream's got me graving some. Ice cream's the best." Ted passed over a spoon when Ada pulled out the jar of sugar. "It's kinda like seeing Billy Joel perform live, you know? It never disappoints. It does give me the toots, though. Uh, the ice cream. Not Billy Joel."

    "Roy's weird about dairy, too." Ada stage whispered as she clinked the teaspoon against the lip of the last mug.

     Roy rolled his eyes again. "I asked my niece if she was still gonna watch the match if I wasn't playing. Little shit said yes. Didn't even blink. Said she didn't want to miss when the camera cuts to Ada."

     "They always get me angle just right. Fucking love football." She grinned, bringing the two mugs over. Ted followed behind her, carrying his own as if it were a hand grenade.

    Ada softly rubbed the back of Roy's neck after she handed him his tea.

    "Cheers." He mumbled, taking his first sip. Three sugars. A splash of milk. Hot, but not boilingly so. It was just how he liked it. Exactly how he took it every morning.

    She noticed things.

     Ted sat down across from them, but made no move to touch his drink yet. "That niece of yours is doing it the showbiz way, Roy. She picks her favourite and she stays loyal to the show just for them. I, myself, promised to stop watching Fresh Prince after they swapped out Aunt Viv."

    Ada smiled at him, "You always watch the later seasons, though. I see you."

    "Well, yeah." He shrugged. "Truth be told, as long as they let Carlton do his thing, I was always gonna take a minute and just sit right there. Sidebar: Alfonso Ribeiro, the greatest physical comedian of the nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty first century."

    Roy felt dread wash over him when Ada leaned back in her chair with an excited grin. He felt like this was a social experiment. Like he walked into a trap and was now being forced to witness something he may never recover from.

    Ted rose from his seat, moving over to stand in the open space of the kitchen. "Case and point, right here." And then, he was fucking dancing. Snapping his fingers and bopping his head and shaking his hips.

     "Iconic." Ada nodded. She was far more entertained by Roy's horrified expression than the actual performance taking place before her, but made sure Ted knew he had her support.

    "Yeah, yeah, iconic!"

    Roy leaned over to murmur in her ear. "I never know how to react when a grown man does the Carlton in front of me."

    "Just smile."

     He didn't. But he watched as she did. And how she gave the coach a nod every time he glanced up for approval. And how she hid her disbelieving laugh behind her mug.

    "You could see a silhouette doing this, you know exactly what it is, you know exactly who's doing it! It's the one, the only, Alfonso--" A banging from the ceiling halted his dramatic speech and stilled his full body movements.

    "Knock it off!" They heard his neighbour called down.

     "Sorry, Ms. Shipley!" Ted yelled back, lips pursed as he turned to face the two celebrities in his kitchen. "It's been a whole thing these last few weeks."

    "She hasn't been the same since Rodney died." Ada sighed, thinking back to the turtle that Ms. Shipley would take on walks around the the building. She'd even made the model sign her autograph on his lead (why a pet who physically couldn't run away would need one, nobody knew, but Ada was happy to sign it).

    Ted nodded in agreement. "Been even worse since you stopped visiting. Starting to think you died, too, I bet." He sat back down in his chair. "Anyways, I was gonna say something, hold on. Um, what-- oh, yeah, Roy. You know what we could do? You've been hurt off and on all season. Why don't we just say you're injured and you can't play? No shame in that."

    Sure, no shame in that. But there was shame in the truth. Shame in the fact that yes, he had been injured a lot, and yet he somehow managed to play worse these days than he ever did when his knee ached to kill.

    He clenched his jaw. And squeezed the hand that was now massaging his knee. "That would help protect my stock if I wanna move next season. Maybe to a club that actually wants to start me."

   "Oh, come on." Ted frowned.

     "What if, God forbid, I end up having to play in fucking America. Where I'd dominate, by the way. They'd be like Oh, is this football then?"

     "You're not going to America," Ada rolled her eyes. "There's not enough clouds in the fucking Twilight state to satiate your gloomy desires."

     They men turned to her, both confused. It was Ted who spoke. "When you say Twilight state, do you mean Washington?"

"Whatever."

"Right," The coach nodded. "Well, Roy, obviously my preference would be to have you there at practice tomorrow. And the game. But, hey, you gotta do what's right for you."

Roy glanced down at his tea for a moment. He could make out the vague image of his reflection, and didn't really know what he was supposed to be seeing. Didn't know what he was supposed to do, either.

"Can I think about it?"

"I'd call you a big dummy poo-poo face if you didn't." Ted smiled. And his smile grew when Roy returned it. But it immediately fell after he took his first sip of tea. "Oh, God, pigeon sweat."

Ada blinked. She wasn't sure if she should be offended or not. Not just because she was very English, but because she'd been the one to make his drink.

"You two be honest with me, okay? It's a prank, ain't it? Tea? Like, when the tourist folks aren't around, y'all know this tastes like garbage."

Roy shook his head, bringing his mug to his mouth. "No, I love it."

"Besides, you'd know if we hated it." Ada shrugged. "You're not a tourist, Ted."

She liked to think he'd stay here forever.

And the next day, upon entering Rebecca's office before training, she found herself hoping that Higgins would stay forever, too.

"Lesley! You're never leaving this fucking place again!"

The man turned around in his seat, and was quick to return her grin. "Ada! You better stay right where you are, too!"

"What?" She laughed, rushing over to give him a quick hug. "Stay in this office?"

Rebecca smiled softly as she watched them interact, these two who were perhaps the most important people in her life at the moment. Her constant companions. Both of whom she'd done wrong by.

She made it up to Higgins yesterday.

She planned on doing the same with Ada now.

"Trouble," The woman called out lightly, genuinely hating to interrupt their talk of jigsaw puzzles and cavities, "Can you sit for a moment?"

"Ah!" Higgins smiled, raising his hands. "I should go, I should go!"

Ada frowned at him, "You can stay. Don't make me feel like I'm in trouble with the headmistress or something."

"No, no," He leaned down to pick up his briefcase, winking excitedly at the both of them. "Four is a crowd. I shall leave you to it. See you at the game?"

Four?

"Yeah," Ada murmured, squinting at him as he hurried out of the room. "He's not very good at maths, is he? Explains why he has all those children. Could never time the pull out correctly."

She very much expected the chiding.

"Oh, God, Ada! Speak like you were raised in a home."

But she didn't expect it to come from that voice.

The model turned back around in her chair, looking away from the door and over to Rebecca. And the woman who now stood behind her.

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

"Is that another race joke?" London huffed. "Because I told you I was coming in from Brighton."

(Yeah, but you haven't called or texted or even fucking emailed since arriving back and I normally can't get rid of you.)

"Funny, that you were in Brighton." Ada shrugged leaning back in her chair. "Because your best friend, Rupert, has been here."

It was hard not to note that Rebecca didn't flinch or stiffen or frown at the mention of his name. It was as though she's washed most of him away with the holy shower of confessional. And it was also hard for Ada not to notice the look exchanged between the two women after she made the not-so subtle jab; it amused them, what she said.

Why the fuck would it amuse them?

"You hear that, Rebecca? Rupert and I are friends now."

"Aye, hold on." Ada waved her hand. "When the fuck did you two become friends?"

London rolled her eyes. "I don't know, Ada. You're the one saying that we are."

"Not you and Rupert. You and Bex." She then grit her teeth. That wasn't even the question that mattered. There were so many better ones, ones that she needed answered immediately. "He said you were asking about a job."

"Are we still talking about Rupert, or have you thrown in another character without telling us?"

Rebecca gently nudged the manager with her elbow before reaching for her cup of camomile. She leaned back in her seat as she watched them, a strange glint in her eyes. Like she was excited. But also afraid. And maybe even a little proud of herself.

"Can you fuck off and answer a single question? Did you ask Rupert about a job, yes or no? Just be grown up about it and tell me."

London conceded, clasping her hands together. Not behind her back, but near her middle. It was strange too see. Almost painfully unfamiliar.

Unfortunately, her answer brought with it a rather painfully familiar feeling.

"Yeah, I asked him about a job."

Ada sharply inhaled.

She felt nauseous. Because, sure, they were never friends, but when you gave up on your dream so young and had to leave your team before you were ready. . . it made you cling to any available comfort. And for Ada, who was bad at communicating, that comfort was the blunt and sharp tongue of London Abara.

London, who always knew what she was doing. London, who would glare at photographers when they got too rough. London, who would sit in the green room before Ada arrived so that she could pick the fucking purple skittles and have them ready.

London, who betrayed her now.

And who was. . . smiling about it?

"Fuck are you laughing for?" Ada glared at her, standing from her chair. "You're fired, you do know that, don't you?"

"What do you think is in Brighton?"

The girl stared at her incredulously. "Shitting seagulls. And if you really liked it over there, then maybe your retirement home. Because you're now jobless."

"Looks like your old pal, Rupert, has invested in a breeding ground for young beautiful elites from whence he could pick his monthly muse."

Ada blinked. She then glanced over at Rebecca, whose head was tilted as she tried to make sense of the wordy sentence.

"London, I know you're foreign, yeah? But can you speak English, please?"

Rebecca dropped her head low.

London rolled her eyes with the force of a thousand suns.

"He owns stock in Melona. Like, major shareholder shit." She sighed when taking note of her client's bored and confused expression. "Fucking Melona, Ada. The company that, well, pardon the culty terminology, owns your arse."

"Wait, what?"

Ada knew it sounded familiar, but in the way that her old Arsenal sponsors sounded familiar. As in, they didn't really matter because all she needed to know was that they were helping fund her career.

Melona was the modelling agency she'd signed to at a low point in her life. And they overbooked her. And irritated her. And asked too much. And funded her nightmare. So, familiar, but all she knew was that she hated them.

"Rupert owns some of Melona?" She asked to make sure she was hearing things right, only asking her next question after London and Rebecca nodded. "So, he's a model man?"

"Wasn't he always?" Rebecca scoffed, taking another sip of her drink.

"Look," London sighed, slowly walking around the desk and making her way towards Ada. "I know you already feel indebted to him--"

Wait, what was she talking about? Indebted? What, because he helped cover up Ada's accident? Because he didn't tell anyone about the pills?

The only person who knew the full truth about that was Rebecca.

Did Rebecca tell?

"Like, because he helped boost your football career and everything," London continued, not hearing the relieved breath that escaped Ada. "But he was very willing to do it, okay?"

"Do what? You sound like the fucking news. I don't know what you're saying, but I know something big has happened."

Rebecca laughed lightly.

God, this girl never changed. And she was so good. Standing here and engaging in conversation despite the seeds of betrayal still sprouting all across her internal body.

"Trouble," She said, tone gentle and eyes even gentler still as she pushed a stack of papers over. "We got you out."

Ada stilled.

She knew what that meant, but didn't. Understood completely, but couldn't comprehend. Was ready to sign immediately, but couldn't stop her hands from shaking.

They got her out?

     London asked about a job.

     Asked about Ada's job.

"It just took one fucking sit down with him and a few meetings with the CEO in Brighton." London explained, taking her silence as incomprehension. "I went to Rebecca after what you said in Liverpool. I mean, it was Keeley that made me realise I've been super shit to you. So, like, it was mostly them that did it, you know?"

The manager was struggling with her words. Which was very knew.

"What?" Ada murmured, none of the words making sense as she kept staring at the termination contract sat before her.

London ignored her, picking at her finger as she kept her face blank enough. "But, like, Ada, I probably could have done this ages ago if I listened to you. It only took one google search to find out who owned major parts of the company." She shook her head. "I mean, I kept telling myself that I wanted you to do more and book more so that you could grow to love the job. But, really, I was trying to become someone. And that sucks to hear and to say, but it's the shitty truth."

And after talking to Keeley, London could admit that now. It was all she ever wanted; to make a name for herself in this industry. It was all she dreamed about as a kid. That little girl in that little house, the youngest of nine children. All brothers.

Nobody ever took her seriously. Not her parents and not the people in her village. Not the people who she worked for when first arriving in England. Not even herself, really. So maybe she overcompensated. Maybe she became this hideous caricature of independence and success in an effort to channel and manifest that very image.

"I get it."

"No, Ada," London picked up the contract. "It wasn't fair. I chose being a manager over being a. . .friend. Chose my career over your happiness."

Ada slowly nodded, watching her manager flick through the dense stack. She read through them with the expertise of a woman bred to be lawyer.

"But you got me out."

London shrugged, gaze firmly planted on the fine print. "Rebecca's the one that got him to meet with me."

The blonde smiled when Ada turned to her, and giggled when the girl ran over. She made sure her tea was sat far away when Ada launched herself on her lap. The office chair spun slightly with the force of the action, but neither of them cared.

"Thank you." She mumbled against the older woman's shoulder, tears welling in her eyes.

She couldn't wait to tell her mum.

And Jamie.

And Roy.

"I wanted to make up for it. I always did." Rebecca cradled the back of her head, placing a kiss on her temple.

"Yeah, you fucking made up for it." She laughed tearily. And then she turned her head to glance at London, who was watching them with a barely visible smile. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me until that Women in Football article comes out. I worked hard on your answers."

Ada raised an eyebrow, pulling herself out of Rebecca's hold to stand back up. "Oh, yeah? Do you even know what a yellow card means?"

"Ada, most of the answers were already yours. Keeley helped. The only answers I gave were the ones telling people that you were currently in a happy relationship." She continued before Ada could interrupt, recognising the indignation in her eyes. "And you can tell me that you wanted to keep that private, but I know that the only reason you're so afraid of being with him so publicly is because you think everyone's gonna judge you and ruin it."

London knew Ada didn't care about the media's opinion. She only ever cared about what her friends and family thought. People she saw every day. People she spoke to and laughed with. People she worked with – like her manager, who all but told her that dating Roy Kent was a horrible idea.

"You feel that way because I made you feel that way. After one kiss. And I'm sorry. Okay? Fuck, I hate apologising, but I am. Because you look so. . ." She struggled to find the word, no matter how glaringly obvious it was.

"Happy," Rebecca supplied.

"Right, yeah, thank you." London nodded. "Happy. And you did that morning, too. Before I barged in and ruined it."

"To be fair, you probably thought you were going to have to spend five hours talking to journalists."

"And instead, I spent fourteen hours talking to men in suits about letting you go."

"God, the absolute horror."

They shared a small smile.

And they shook hands, because London was London.

And Ada signed that contract, with Rebecca and London, both of whom knew the art of reading over every word very carefully, hovering over her. She signed it with the same pen she'd signed a dead turtle's lead.

May this contract live forever.

✷

"Is he here?"

Ted blinked at the loud volume with which she'd voiced her question, turning away from the board to look at Ada.

She was grinning like a madwoman, tears staining her cheeks and so much mirth in her eyes. It was like she was breathing in adrenaline from an illegal source.

"Are you okay, pal?" He laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch seemed to trigger something, and before he knew it, she was hugging him.

Hugging Ted.

Ted, who was the reason she started hanging around Nelson Road more. And therefore the reason she first reconciled with Rebecca, without whom she would not be free. Ted, who was a fucking domino which tripped and left nothing but good in his wake.

"I love football." She mumbled into his chest. "Thank you."

Nate and Beard were hesitant to approach, but did so anyway when the team start filing into the locker room. The two wanted to go over the plays one more time before they were due on the pitch.

"She okay?" Beard sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"She loves football."

Nate smiled, "Well that's lovely."

Ada nodded her head against Ted, pulling away a moment later to look at her friends. "It really fucking is." She then glanced around the room, winking at Colin and Isaac when they waved at her. "You see Roy? Is he here?"

"Um," Ted shoved his hands in his pockets. "Was actually hoping you'd know the answer to that."

"What, because he's me boyfriend?"

The three blinked, but didn't have the time to gossip (or squeal, in Beard's case), because Nate's word vomit was spilling out of him.

"Okay, wait, wait, this is a horrible time, and I'm so excited about this relationship," He gulped. "But I have been feeling physically sick since I made that sexist shoe joke, Ada. And, Coach, since I walked away yesterday. When you were telling the owl joke. Plus, last night I had a horrible nightmare that I was an owl, and I was pecking you both to death! I'm so sorry."

Ada stared at him. Then she exchanged and look with Ted. And then she stared again.

"It's alright." The girl shrugged.

Ted gave a small smile. "Yeah, no, it's okay, Nate. We're all good in the hood. Alright?" He then paused. "But, uh, do me a favour. Try to apologise to us in your dream so that we're good on that side of things, too."

The kit man nodded hurriedly. "Oh, yeah, yeah, of course."

Ada laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close as Ted began addressing the room.

"Now, fellas, we got ourselves a heck of a match coming up, yeah?" He rubbed his hands together. "And what I'm gonna need from all of y'all--"

Everyone glanced up when the coach's voice drifted off. And they all followed his line of sight to find the reason.

Ada's heart warmed.

What a disgusting feeling.

Roy walked past a few teammates on his way to his locker, briefly patting Isaac on the chest in greeting. He was silent as he took off his leather jacket. And then he turned around, as if only now noticing that everyone was watching him.

"Oh, sorry, I'm late," He waved as he took off his black short sleeve. "My six year old niece found my girlfriend's handcuffs. So I had to take her to get her ears pierced in an attempt to erase the memory."

Girlfriend.

He locked eyes on Ada as he put on his kit.

They didn't bother hiding the stupid smiles this time; soft little things which no doubt looked incredibly pathetic. Their audience seemed to love the display, though.

Over a dozen men let out a chorus of coos.

"Oh!" Isaac nodded, turning to Colin who was sat across the room from him. "Yeah, you were right."

The Welshman scoffed, adjusting his socks as he gave his best friend an incredulous look. "It was fucking obvious."

"And they're not related." Dani felt the need to point out. Obviously, he assumed that many had made the same assumption as him. The boy frowned when he received nought but strange looks.

"What?" Ada frowned.

Everyone ignored her and Roy, talking amongst themselves as if the couple wasn't the focus point of their conversation.

Colin, who'd been the one to explain everything to Dani over the weekend, nodded encouragingly. Like a teacher who wanted his pupil to remain confident. "Yeah, exactly. Her brother is Jamie. The one that left. Why do you think they have the same last name?"

"And the same face." Bumbercatch reminded him.

Richard raised his hand. "Oui, and the same silly accent."

Sam stood up from the bench, moving to stand beside Dani. "He wasn't stupid for not catching it. I, as well, believed that the Western government was experimenting with cloning."

Roy shook his head.

Was this seriously his team? Were these blithering idiots, who talk of romance and gossip and cloning, the same people he was supposed to play alongside on the pitch? Fight alongside? Win and lose beside?

Yes, they fucking were.

"Can I say something?" He called out as he pulled on his light blue pinney. The one that all reserves wore.

"Oi, shh!" Isaac snapped at the few who were still talking. "He's going to give us details."

"No," Roy narrowed his eyes. "Just thought I should make it known that second team's gonna kick first team's fucking asses today!"

A wave of cheers clashed against a chorus of disagreement. Starters and reserves all hooted and traded barbs as they jokingly divided into two separate clans.

Roy sat back on the bench, giving his coach a nod. And a smile, too. Because the man believed in him.

Even when Roy thought he didn't.

"Alright, fellas!" Ted clapped. "Finish getting ready, and then we'll do what the man says. We'll settle this out on the pitch, let's go!"

Beard pat Ada on the back as he and Ted walked back inside their office for a last minute run through of lineups and stats.

She leaned against the wall beside the board, watching as the team playfully fought each other on their way out towards the pitch. She laughed when Isaac tripped Colin, and smiled when Dani chastely kissed her forehead.

"You ready, captain?" Ada asked when Roy was the last one left, still tying his boots.

"To sit on the bench? Yeah, I fucking think so." He snorted.

"Hey, at least you get a good view of me, right?"

Roy stopped in front of her. And he took in her happy eyes and her weightless shoulder and the way she was grinning up at him like he was all things good.

"You have news you want to share?"

She grinned even wider. Because he noticed things. And because he cared. And because when he moved to hold her hand, their fingers slotted perfectly together. Like twin pieces of a puzzle.

Fuck.

Twin.

"We're gonna have to tell Jamie about this, don't we?"

Roy groaned.

⚽️: Please remember to vote on chapters, it's very motivating! I hope to have the next one up very soon!

⚽️: SHE'S FREE! AND SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND! If only chapter one Ada could see herself now, ugh. Anyways iwl I kinda rushed this chapter just because ep ten is my favourite (I'm a Jamie Tartt stan) and I also really want to get to season two! If you think #Rada is domestic now, wait until Roy grows a beard.

⚽️: Rebecca and London redemption arc? We love to see it! Only me and, like, one other reader stan London and I find that so funny. Anyways, this show is all about growth, and I love everyone – except post season one Nathan Shelley, he's my opp.

⚽️: Shoutout the girlies who helped me get through my major writers block 🙏🏼