She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter eleven.

Chapter eleven, Goodbye Earl.
THE STAR WARS REFERENCE.

    "I HAVE A REALLY GOOD FEELING ABOUT THIS SEASON." Ada's eyes were focused on the pitch as the words left her mouth, tailing the ball as it got passed between different players and routinely reacquired by the two competing teams.

    It was nearing the end of Richmond's eighth post-relegation match, and they were playing against West Bridgford's very own Nottingham Forest. The game had been relatively tense so far, with both teams currently levelling at two goals apiece, but the girl was confident that they would win. And was hopeful that they would finally break their seven tie streak.

   Beard and Nate, who stood on either of side of her, were far less confident. In fact, they were both certain that Ada had just ensured their loss.

    "Great." The American to her left pursed his lips. "You just jinxed it."

Nate gave a heavy nod, too full of nerves to verbalise his agreement. They had been incorporating most of his plans in today's match; the trick opening and the surprise tiki-taka strategy as a post-half tactic. If this ended with another tie or, God forbid, a loss, then he would feel completely responsible.

   It had been easier when he was a kit man whose suggestions were only credited in person. Now, as an official member of the coaching staff, the blame would publicly fall to him.

"I don't know if I like long haired Ada and her optimism," Beard mused quietly, tugging at the shoulder length strands which she'd secured in a short ponytail.

Ada slapped his hand away and kept her eyes trained on Sam Obisanya. "It's not the fucking hair, it's a feeling I have."

"Are your feelings ever right?" Nate frowned, fiddling with his whistle.

"All past scenarios would point to no."

"Forget the past, Beardo. Look to the future. It's full of life, I can feel it." She gave them both a grin before moving to stand by Ted, who'd spent the entirety of the match anxiously shifting on his feet by the pitch's sideline.

Beard and Nate exchanged a strange look before following after her.

    "She's doing the zen thing again, huh?" Ted chuckled as he took in the men's shared expression, one which was equal parts amused and peeved and worried. His eyes then darted over to Ada, who was miming something rather vulgar to Isaac – an attempt to lighten him up, probably. "Don't worry, y'all. It ain't a breakdown this time. She's just been doubling up on meditation recently."

"Ah." Beard nodded in relief. Because he cared about her very much, yes, but also because the last thing they needed was Breakdown Ada. Not when she was so crucial to the team's bettering performance.

Despite still not switching to the more permanent contract (even after weeks upon weeks of coaching), the team and the public had come to recognise her as Richmond's most vital tool; experienced in the game, full of knowledge, and incredibly calculating in terms of strategy.

Trent Crimm even wrote that Richmond's recent ties likely would've been losses had she not taken to the sidelines.

"Oi!" Ada quickly waved to them, her eyes now set extremely wide. "He's doing the fucking play! Sam's passing to Dani!"

This had been one of her own suggested tactics. A back up plan, really, for when one of their more insecure players was liable for the opposing team's equaliser – a fate which was better suited for a striker. Ada had been watching as the ball slowly neared a wide open Colin, and had been hoping that Sam would remember their brief run through from earlier this week.

The Nigerian never disappointed.

The three coaches huddled up beside her, all of them bending in anticipation. They watched as Sam made a sharp left. Watched as he passed to Dani instead of Colin. And watched as Forest's defender slide tackled in a quest for possession.

Just like she fucking predicted.

Target Tartt, she'd jokingly dubbed it a few years ago; for when you wanted a striker to have their shot at ending the match.

"It's a penalty!"

Cheers immediately came from the benched reserves and the thrilled home fans. Ada grinned when Beard pat her on the back, and grinned even wider when Ted dramatically smooched her temple.

Nate clapped in relief, giving her an impressed nod. "Okay, yeah, maybe your feeling was right."

Beard, ever an apprehensive man, gave him a sharp look. "Jinxing."

"Right, sorry." The former kit man winced. "Is it okay if I pray?" He then asked rather sheepishly, unsure about what he was allowed to do concerning the realm of spirituality and superstition.

"Yeah, of course." Ted nodded, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "But to which God and in what language, you know?"

"Nature is the greatest God. And silence is the greatest language."

They slowly turned to Ada.

"What is that, Gandhi?" Ted frowned.

She shook her head, watching as the referee gestured towards penalty spot; metres from the goal line. That was where Dani would land his free kick. "No, actually, it's Peter. The old man that cracks me spine."

Nate scratched the back of his head.

"Well," Beard shrugged. "You could silently pray to nature. Or you could just cross your fingers and make a wish."

Ted did neither thing.

Ada was much the same, having always been a skeptic despite today's musings and preachings – and despite her grandmother's many attempts to turn her religious. She could remember her father dropping her off at Granny Tartt's house (it was during that bleak period in her life when Georgie and James thought it would be good to have him spend more time with the twins; he would take one of them for a weekend, but would leave them at his mother's house rather than commit to his promises of arcade days and movie nights), and could remember how the old woman would force her to recite biblical passages and to open her soul to God.

   It never worked.

   She and Ted watched as their friends crossed their fingers and muttered their manifestations. And then all four of them watched as Dani Rojas kissed the soiled football. And as he set it on the healthy grass. And as he took a few steps back. And as he leaped into his notorious running start.

    "Come on, Dani." Ada mumbled, eyes squinted. She whistled lowly when the striker landed his kick, one which was perhaps more powerful than the aforementioned force of nature.

     But, despite the strength of the kick, the ball seemed to take its time hurtling towards the net. Ada could actually feel the seconds stretch. In fact, it took so long to land, that she even found the time to smile at a pigeon flying by.

   Ada always remembered Colin's dream of pepperoni thieving and mischief wreaking whenever seeing them.

    In a second, though, she'd come to associate the bird with tragedy.

   Because Earl, the Greyhound, was suddenly escaping the hold of his minder, and was running across the pitch with the intention to maul. And the ball that Dani Rojas had kicked, the one which was supposed to be game altering, ended up being life ending.

    Synthetic leather and pressurised rubber smacked against the mascot's feeble bones, leaving nought but a crunch and a whine in its wake. 

    For what must have been the first time in football history, the entire stadium fell into a hushed quiet.

    Ada's jaw dropped.

    Ted covered her eyes.

    "Oh, my God!" Nate gasped, uncrossing his fingers as if he'd somehow managed to cause this. "I promise, that's not what I wished for!"

    Okay, so, maybe kind of Ada jinxed it.

("It's full of life, I can feel it.")

✸

    "Do you think it was a sacrifice? Because, like, Richmond used to have two coaches and one dog. Now we have double the coaches, and a dead--"

   "Don't say the D word, pal." Ted softly shook his head, watching as Dani practically drowned himself in the shower room.

    The team manager had just come back from a conference, one that was held at the behest of Rebecca Welton and Keeley Jones; two women who knew that controversies were easier for the public to swallow once formally addressed. He came back to the locker room with the intention to do something similar, discuss the tragedy and maybe give a pep talk.

    But what greeted him was this; Beard and Nate watching Dani with a concerned fascination, and Ada and Colin huddled outside the shower room with a stop watch held up between them.

    Ada frowned, glancing up from the timer to look at Ted. "D word? What, dog?"

    "Hey!" Colin tapped her shoulder. "We've hit the twenty minute mark!"

    They all turned back to the grieving striker, watching as he repeatedly signed crosses and murmured prayers in his native tongue. Steaming water washed over him by the gallons, drenching his hair and his kit. It was as though he were cleansing his soul of sin.

    "He's gonna use all the hot water." Colin frowned.

    All Beard had to do was sharply snap his fingers, and then the tone deaf Welshman was off – but not before giving his best friend a forehead kiss in parting.

    "Should we say something to him?" Ada had to wonder as she and her fellow coaches continued to watch the sad display. "I've been brushing up on me Spanish."

   "The Macarena don't count." Ted frowned. There was a short lull before he eventually gave in, gesturing for her to follow him into the shower room. "Hey, Dani," He lightly called out once close enough. "What ya doing?"

   "Washing the death off me."

"Guessing that's the D word, then." Ada mumbled mildly, looking to Ted.

    He gave her a small smile. And then tried to coax a similar expression from Dani. "Well, I--I recommend you use a little soap. Helps get the eternal rest out of those tough to reach places, you know?"

    "Gracias, Coach." Dani all but whimpered as the scorching water continued to rain down him. Even in his darkest hour, he still remembered his manners and courtesies.

It hurt Ada to see him this way. This was the same boy who got her to play football again. The one who wished to give away joy for free. The one whose arrival had helped bring about a change in her twin brother. And who recently bought her and Roy a houseplant named Rico because he'd assumed that they moved in together (they didn't, but they did now share custody of the potted Cycas living in her foyer).

    "Hey," Ada reached over to pat his sopping shoulder. "Dale a tu cuerpo alegría. Football is life, remember?"

     Dani stilled – and whether it was because he was shocked to hear her speak Spanish or because he was finally coming to, they would never know.

"It used to be."

     Ada and Ted exchanged a look as Dani went back to praying and mourning. They then turned to Beard and Nate, who were equally speechless and lost.

    And the team wasn't any better, most of them sat in a contemplative silence when the coaches entered the locker room.

    "Okay, so, fellas," Ted cleared his throat, silencing what little chatter there was. "Let's go ahead and give Dani a bit of space right now, yeah? Y'all don't mind showering at home, do ya?"

     Sam quickly raised his hand. "Oh, Coach! If it's okay with you, some of us prefer to take long baths at home."

    Ada scoffed when that received many sounds of agreement. "You're all fucking disgusting. What, you just marinate in your sweat and filth?" She pointed a stern finger in their direction. "Shower first and then bathe. Alright? Less risk of skin bacteria."

    "Yes, Coach." They nodded.

     "Okay." Ted blinked, sharing a vague look with Beard. "What she said. And throw in a bath bomb, too, because y'all deserve it for how you played out there today. Kicked their butts from soup to nuts." He gave the team a smile. "Don't worry, we'll get a W soon, okay? We'll see you goldfish on Monday."

   "Goldfish?" Jan Maas asked as the male coaches headed towards their office, and as Ada Tartt sauntered over to the bench in front of him. She sat down between Isaac and Colin, wrapping an arm around both of them.

   "Oh," Colin grinned, happy to explain the meaning behind Richmond's newest saying. "It means to forget our mistakes and failures and just move on."

    He tilted his head. "But I didn't make any mistakes. Only you played poorly."

    Colin's face dropped as a chorus of winces and oooh's filled the room, but it was obvious that he wasn't too hurt by the remark. Because he was used to locker room barbs, yes, but also because he was used to the Dutchman's way of speaking. The two had known each other for years, having trained in the same camp as beginners. In fact, it was actually Colin that'd suggested they recruit Jan Maas to the team, knowing that Richmond desperately needed to fill the centre field void which had been left by Roy Kent.

   Ada'd been more than happy to take his suggestion to Rebecca and her fellow coaches. But that happiness dwindled during her and Ted's research period, when they'd watched a short compilation of the young man's greatest goals; the blonde hair and the tall stature and the cheeky grin he gave after every score.

   Colin's Dutch friend.

   The same Dutch friend that'd attended the party Isaac and Colin had thrown for her over a year ago.

   The party that she'd left early.

   The party that she'd left early in order to sleep with him.

Funny how the universe worked, no?

(Thankfully, working together was not at all awkward. It couldn't be, in truth; not with his blunt nature and her impressive ability to completely ignore the past. Still, Jan Maas did make a rather crude joke on his first day of training – one about how familiar it felt to have Ada order him around.

That jape had earned him a rough nudge from Isaac and a surprisingly sharp she has a boyfriend from Sam. Everything had been relatively tame since then.

Well, if one ignored the regular bouts of childish squabbling.)

    "Nobody cares if you played well, you shit." She rolled her eyes, ruffling both of her boys' hair as she stood from the bench. "Because guess what? You still didn't fucking score."

   The blonde frowned in genuine confusion. "But you're my coach. If I'm bad, then you're worse."

"Ada," Sam winced from across the room. "Remember, he's not being rude. Jan Maas is just being Dutch."

The girl lightly rolled her eyes before focusing them back at Jan Maas, who she believed to be deflecting his failures. "You're right," She nodded. "I am the coach. But you're a football player. If I'm the last thing you scored, then what does that say about you?"

Jan just shrugged, "That I'm overpaid?"

"Fucking idiot." Ada snorted, pushing his face back with the flat of her palm before moving towards the coaches' office.

"Soufflé," Ted nodded to her from where he sat at his desk. "Any thoughts on luck?"

"Me thoughts on luck?" She pursed her lips in faux contemplation, leaning against the doorway and watching as the the three men patiently awaited her answer. It was only when they began shifting that she finally gave her readied response, "Yeah, no. I've got nothing."

"Dead dog drain you of your hippy wisdom?" Beard asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Hey! He said the D word!"

Ted had no time to reprimand his best friend for being snarky (or to chide Ada for being a tattletale) because he was distracted by the person stood just outside the door; Will, their acclimating kit man.

The other coaches followed his line of sight, and Ada pushed off the doorway to grant him entry.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Will blushed at all the attention, walking further into the room. "Can I leave a little early today?"

"But part of your job is to stay until the whole team's gone." Nate shook his head, clearly unimpressed.

"No, yes, of course!" Will hurriedly agreed. He didn't want to come off as lazy or anything of the sort – especially not in front of Ada Tartt, who had kindly gotten him this well paying position. "It's just, well, it's my mum's fiftieth birthday--"

"Aw," Ada smiled. That explained why Will had been carrying a bouquet of flowers this morning. "That's ni--"

"Oh, oh," Nate interrupted condescendingly, eyes now squinted as he stared at the boy. "And what position does your mum play on the team again?"

Ada and Beard exchanged a confused look.

"It's okay, Will." Ted nodded after a tense moment. "Tell your mom happy birthday from all of us. Oh, and, hey, if she ever wants to try out for the team then she's more than welcome."

Ada nodded, "Yeah. Ask her if she can play centre back. There's an annoying Dutchman we're trying to get rid of."

"Okay, Coach." He laughed lightly.

The girl lightly tapped his head. "Hey, what did I say you can call me?"

"Mum." His eyes widened when that earned him an array of odd looks – because in his subdued state of being starstruck, Will had somehow managed to forget the rest of his sentence. He quickly reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a keychain. "Sorry, sorry, I just meant that my mum wanted to me to give this to you, Coa--Ada."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Oh, is it her birthday, too, then?"

"Don't be jealous." The former model waved him off, choosing to focus on Will and the gift he was handing over. It was a silver keychain with a miniature football charm hanging on the end. "Bless her, Willy. This is beautiful." She gave the boy a grin. "Tell her happy birthday from me, yeah?"

"I will." He vowed, giving everyone a parting nod before running out of the room.

"Well, wasn't that just adorable?" Ted nodded, smiling at Ada as she began fiddling with the charm.

"He's sweet," She hummed. And then she turned to Nate. "What's up with you recently? Did he offend you or something?"

Ada genuinely wanted to know, because she cared about that sort of thing now. And she cared about Nate, too. He was one of her closest friends; someone that she spent nearly every day with. Someone whose mind she respected. Someone that she genuinely trusted (so much so, in fact, that she'd sometimes take his suggestions into consideration when coming up with a play – which she didn't do with just anyone).

So if he felt slighted by someone at work, even if it was just an innocent kit man, then she wanted to fix it. And maybe her intentions were partially selfish at their core, maybe she was trying to absolve herself of guilt and make up for the time when she used to enable his torment, but that didn't matter.

Because she still fucking cared.

Nate blinked at her question. And then he turned to Beard and Ted, who were now leaning back in their chairs with equally curious looks on their faces.

"You gotta stay on 'em." He explained, struggling to find the words. "Pressure makes pearls, right?"

"Mmm." Ted tilted his head, exchanging a confused glance with Beard.

"Wait, that's wrong," Nate shook his head before they could correct him. He'd been doing that a lot recently, they noted; making sure that nobody had the chance to right his mistakes for him. "It's diamonds. Shit! I messed it up."

"Yeah, well, at least you didn't kill a dog. Now that's a fucking mistake." Ada shrugged.

"D word!" Beard pointed at her, looking to his best friend. "She didn't say it, but she implied it!"

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He returned the gesture.

Ted shook his head at their childish display before turning back to Nate. "You didn't mess anything up just now. You were just. . ."

"Unlucky!" Beard called out.

And even more unlucky than Nate was Rebecca Welton, who had, since this morning, taken on the guilt ridden responsibility of becoming a dog shelter's prime benefactor.

   Richmond's largest dog shelter, in fact; Barkingham Palace.

Ada snorted when Higgins revealed the institution's name, choking on her drink of chilled water. Ted, who sat beside her on the couch, gave her a small pat on the back.

"It's a good name." The American admitted after ensuring that Ada wasn't dying.

The two had dropped by Rebecca's office as per their established post-work routine, once again joined by Keeley Jones and Leslie Higgins. And whilst there was an air of mourning and defeat stifling the air, it felt good to sit and rewind with people who shared in your burdens.

"To Earl." Keeley raised her glass.

     Ted nodded, "To Earl."

"And to the pigeon." Ada reminded them, sharing a solemn nod with Higgins. The two had recently mastered their bird sit in meditation, and were therefore taking this particular death to heart.

"Okay," Higgins sighed after downing his beverage, bending slightly to sit the empty glass on the table. "I promised the boys we'd watch Empire Strikes Back tonight." He turned to Ada. "Terry would love it if you came."

"Can't." The girl gave a guilty smile. "Promised Phoebe I'd take her out for hot chocolate after little league." She poured herself some more water. "Besides, all the incest is really damaging to the twin community. I refuse to watch."

"You've never seen Star Wars?" Ted frowned, tilting his head.

Higgins spoke before she could answer, slapping a hand to his forehead as a heavy burden suddenly fell onto his shoulders. "Oh, God. I forgot about Luke and Leia making out." He wearily looked around the room. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, Higgins!" Keeley gave him an encouraging grin, a smile so good and true that none could dare replicate it.

"Hey," Ted pointed a finger at him before he could leave. "May the force be with you."

"And also with you."

Ada snorted at their nerdy parting, but her crass sound of amusement was drowned out by the dinging of Rebecca's phone. She quickly looked over, sharing a wide eyed look with the women in the room.

"Is that Romeo?" She hurriedly asked, rushing over to the other couch and seating herself on Keeley's lap. "Is it him?"

Ted frowned, watching her go. And his frown only deepened when they all began squealing and talking in some sort of code.

"Hey," He called over, wishing to join in somehow. Surely if Ada could be involved then he could be, too. "Him who?"

"Shhh!" Keeley waved him off, leaning in even closer to study the text conversation. It was as if she were looking for some sort of hidden clue. "Okay, okay, and?"

Rebecca bit her lip. "Well, I mean," She glanced up from her phone to look at the two girls – the only people she could go to with this sort of thing. The only ones actively encouraging her pursuit of happiness. The only ones who could help her in this quest for companionship.

(She truly loved them; her little Trouble and sweet, sweet Keeley.)

"Right." Ada nodded. "Okay, well, what if, you know?"

"Oh, I didn't even think of that."

"Mm!" Keeley's eyes widened incredulously. "But differently."

Rebecca quickly began typing. "Yeah, yes, totally."

"Uh," Ted raised his hand like a sheepish pupil. "Am I allowed to speak yet?"

Three heads snapped up, as if only now remembering that he was there.

"Oh, sorry, Ted." Rebecca winced, shifting in nervous excitement. "It's just a little bit of girl talk about a gentleman suitor that I've gone out with a few times."

"He must be super ugly, though, because Bex has yet to introduce us to him." Ada grinned cheekily.

Ted eagerly returned her smile, seeing this as an in. "Oh, well, hey, what's his name--?"

"Shhh!" They all shushed him as Rebecca's phone pinged with another notification.

Ted watched as they read through the text, heads huddled together to create a sea of varying blonde tones; Ada's wheat shade, Keeley's golden, and Rebecca's borderline platinum.

"Alright, Trouble, you've got your wish. Are you two up for a triple date next week? Let him prove his mettle?"

"Oh." Keeley frowned as she read through the courteous invite once more. "Rebecca, I can't."

"Why not? We can set you up with someone, it'll be fun." Rebecca's shoulders slumped. It wasn't like she didn't trust Ada to behave herself on this date (okay, so, maybe she had a little trouble believing that the girl could practice proper etiquette for the entire duration of dinner), but there was something about Keeley's presence that helped make everything much lighter.

"Me and London have tickets to see Bon Iver play that day." Keeley admitted, glaring at her best friend when she let out a loud snort.

"Sorry!" Ada raised her hands up in surrender. "I just find it hard to believe that you, Keeley Jones, are going to a Bon Iver concert."

"Who's Bon Iver?" Ted asked, only to be ignored once more.

"I happen to like him very much, actually!" The publicist lied, tone indignant and cheeks burning scarlet. "And London's pretty obsessed with him, too, so why not go?"

Ada quirked a brow. "Well, have fun, Keeley. I mean it. Really, have a blast." She bit her lip to smother a laugh. "Although, you should probably know that Bon Iver is a band."

"Shut up!" Keeley hissed, face burning even brighter.

Ada kissed her forehead before turning to face a stressed Rebecca. "Don't worry, Bex. We'll be there."

"We?" Rebecca tilted her head. "You're going to convince Roy Kent to go on a double date?"

"Are you kidding? I can convince him to go anywhere." She grinned.

"Hey, speaking of Roy," Ted silently cheered when that finally earned him Ada's complete and total attention. "Did he come to the game today?"

The girl pursed her lips. "Okay, so, maybe I can't convince him to go anywhere. But," She raised a finger. "He's been extremely busy, okay? Maybe the next one."

He gave a small nod, trying not to appear too dejected. After all, it was very understandable; why would Roy Kent attend a match when it wasn't too long ago that he'd been injured? When it was only a few months ago that unavoidable circumstances forced him to hang up his boots?

And if Ada Tartt, Roy's girlfriend who coached every match from the sidelines, wasn't hurt by his lack of attendance, then why should Ted be?

(Because Ted cared too much. About everything. All the time.)

"Hey, he knows he's always got a ticket waiting for him at will call, yeah?"

Ada gently nodded, shooting him an adoring smile as she did so. She remembered how Jamie used to do the same thing for her, back when she'd been hesitant to attend matches. And remembered the warmth that would wash over her at the gesture; the warmth that came with knowing that you were wanted.

It didn't matter that she barely showed up, her brother never gave up on her.

And Ted wasn't going to give up on Roy, either.

"Yeah, Ted, he knows."

"Okay, good," He laughed. "And don't forget, I don't put it under his name! Because I don't want folks messing with him. It's under an alias. Like, last week it was Loretta Lynn. This week was Dolly Parton. And the next week is, if I remember correctly, Shania Twain."

Rebecca snorted, finishing off her martini and sending a screenshot of the text conversation to London Abara. Because it was good to have someone with a more critical mind analyse the messages – she knew that Keeley was too nice, and knew that Ada was only skimming through John's texts and not actually reading.

"Just brilliant!" Keeley cheesed. "Now I can tell people my best mate's shagging Dolly Parton."

Ada went to offer some sort of rebuttal, but paused when she noticed the faraway look in Ted's eyes. And the subtle slump of his shoulders. And the slight furrow of his brows.

"Hey," She lightly called to him. "It's nothing personal, you know that. He really has been busy. With coaching and everything. It's pretty fucking intense."

✸

"Oi! You listen to me!" He roared, glaring at the team as they huddled around him. They were all heaving from complete exhaustion and sweating from absolute exertion. One player even held an ice pack to their freshly acquired injury. "You play like that next week, you can kiss the trophy goodbye, because today, you all played like a bunch of little pricks!"

Ada squinted from her place by the cooler, quietly observing her boyfriend in his element.

Fucking Coach Kent.

"You hear me?" Roy had to ask, irritated with the lack of shame and fear marring their cherubic faces.

"Yes, Coach!" The group of eight year old girls chorused. They made sure that their high pitched voices were all in sync, having worked on harmonising in music class just before training.

"Except for you, Kokoruda." Roy begrudgingly admitted, pointing to the bruised child. "Way to put your body on the line out there."

"Target Tartt, Coach!" The little striker cited, grinning when he gave her a proud nod.

"Alright, Monika's mum brought orange slices. Don't eat the peels, you animals. Off you go."

But they didn't leave. And not just because they were bad at following orders, which Roy could vehemently attest to, but because they appeared to be distracted. Completely and utterly enthralled by something, actually.

Or, rather, someone.

Roy felt her warmth before he felt her touch, the faint chill in his veins instantly thawing when she walked up behind him. It was hard to maintain his stern expression as she wrapped her arms around his middle – and even harder still when she began pressing feather light kisses to the back of his neck.

"Ada Tartt!" Kokoruda blinked. "Are you gonna coach us?"

Ada laughed against Roy's flushed skin, slowly pulling away from him and moving to stand before the gaggle of excited girls.

"What's wrong, little legends?" She teased, pulling her whistle out from beneath her shirt. "Is Coach Kent bad at his job? Because I once promised your headmaster that he was perfect for it."

Monika, a girly little thing with intricately braided hair and pink stockings, immediately nodded. "He's mean, Ada Tartt! You were much nicer to us!"

Ada had to forcefully bite back a laugh at the bold proclamation, knowing that the majority of them were likely being biased in their preference. It was very probable that they just preferred the aesthetic of having a female coach, especially one that they believed would allow them to run and roam as they pleased whilst she just sat and ranted about her brother (because that was actually all Ada had done the one time that she'd coached them).

"I'm not that nice, Monika," The former model sighed, threading her arm through her boyfriend's and leaning against him. "I can be a total dick sometimes. Right, Phoebe?"

Phoebe briefly hesitated before turning to face her team. "She gets super annoyed if you don't pay attention to the movies she puts on."

"Because it's disrespectful! I'm like that, too!" Kokoruda said with perhaps too much passion, eagerly stepping forward. "And I have a brother. And Stitch is my favourite Disney character, as well!"

Roy narrowed his eyes.

(He'd just praised this little shit, and here she was, sucking up to Ada Tartt. He knew he should've predicted this turn of events after Kokoruda picked number nine for her shirt, but Roy had stupidly believed her lie about fighting to recognise Pluto as the ninth planet.)

"Oi!" He snapped. "Oranges, go!"

And like Colin Hughes did when Beard snapped his fingers, they scattered like the fucking wind.

"Is that the team name?" Ada lightly wondered, taking in their bright uniforms as they fearfully scampered off. And then watching as a blur of neon orange hurtled towards her at an impressive speed.

"Uncle Ada!" Phoebe grinned, launching herself at the older girl. She'd been impatiently waiting for the team to leave before greeting her, not necessarily wanting to show off their closeness (despite the unlimited cool points it would no doubt earn her). "I missed you so much!"

"Saw you this morning, Trouble." She laughed, but nonetheless returned her hug with equal fervour.

In truth, Ada had seen Phoebe nearly every morning this week – and had even been the one to get her up and ready for school today. This was, of course, because the little girl was now another Kent who'd unofficially moved into her home.

With Roy's sister currently working hard towards obtaining her MD (she'd been attending night classes after her shifts at the hospital, hoping to finally advance her career from nurse to doctor), he was charged with taking care of her daughter. And seeing as he was constantly over at her house, this meant that Phoebe was partially in Ada's care as well.

For the next few days, at least.

"Coach Kent!" A female voice suddenly called over, tone tired. "Monika's just complained to me again. They're eight years old, you can't call them little pricks."

Roy turned away from his girlfriend, who was whispering absolute nonsense to his niece and rocking her in a tight embrace, to give his coworker an insincere apology. "Sorry, Ms. Bowen."

"Even when they're being little pricks," The teacher reminded him. She, herself, was very familiar with the urge to cuss out students. "See you on Monday at school, girls!"

"Oh, bye, Ms. Bowen!" Phoebe waved, words muffled as she kept her face pressed against Ada's middle.

"Bye, Phoebe," She laughed before then meeting eyes with Ada Tartt. "And you, Miss Tartt."

"Thought we were friends, Leanne." She pouted, a teasing glint in her eyes and a playful smirk shadowing her mouth.

   Roy rolled his eyes when the woman's face visibly warmed.

Fucking Coach Tartt.

   (The two women didn't necessarily know each other that well, but a mutual respect was cemented and a steady acquaintanceship was built after a rather hectic bake sale ended with them hiding out in the school's kitchen. They'd locked the doors and pulled the blinds and stuffed their faces with strawberry tarts.

  Ada remembered choking on the dessert's soft crust when, in her burnt out and sugar high state, Ms. Bowen let slip that she was extremely attracted to her.)

     "Alright," Ada grinned once it was just the three of them again. "Who wants some hot chocolate, then?"

    Roy ignored her question and Phoebe's excited cheering, instead focusing on doing what he'd wanted to do all day; kiss his irritating girlfriend.

She instantly smiled against his mouth. And was quick to thread her fingers through his hair, gently tugging at the curls that she loved so much. His scruffy beard didn't bother her, and neither did the feeling of his cool hands cupping her warm cheeks.

Ada liked to think that she'd grown used to all things Roy Kent; the perpetually frosty touch, the constant desire to kiss, the clean freak tendencies and how he was always cleaning up after her, his need to sprinkle curses into every sentence.

Fuck.

She loved all of it.

She loved everything.

    And in a world full of maddening questions (why did my career have to end? why is my father the way that he is? why did I waste so much time with my brother? why do I always feel like I'm too much for people?), Ada didn't mind not knowing the answer to this; How the fuck did I manage to fall for the man I used to loathe?

    It was impossible to conjure up a reasonable response. And even more impossible to figure out how she, who loved knowing everything about everything, was content with the mystery of it all.

"Can we get hot chocolate now?" Phoebe wondered, rocking on her heels and looking around the field as if searching for a means of escape.

Ada laughed, softly caressing Roy's cheek as they separated from each other. "Yeah, okay, let's go."

It was a short walk to the coffee shop, and an even shorter one to their favourite spot; the bench near the park's entrance. The same bench they sat on all those months ago, the first time that they'd gone out for ice cream together.

An early winter brisk chilled the afternoon air, but it was not at all unpleasant or unbearable. Their scorching drinks and jackets helped fight against the cold, keeping the three of them relatively warm as they sat outside.

"Oh!" Ada remembered, raising her voice slightly so that Roy could hear her over the river's rushing current. "Double date next week. You and me, Rebecca and her lad."

Roy raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his paper cup. "Are you asking me, or telling me?"

She just gave him a coy grin, one that he was now quite familiar with. Roy actually liked to think he'd grown familiar with all things Ada Tartt; the sharp tongue, the gentle touch, the bruising kisses, the faint notes of toffee and vanilla which seemed to forever linger on her skin.

She was equal parts soft and lethal.

He loved all of it.

He loved everything.

But he really hated the idea of going on a double date. What was more, he loathed the fact that Ada was making them go on one despite the fact that she hated double dates, too.

"Fucking Hell."

Phoebe's eyes, dazed from the sugar rush, quickly turned stern. "Bad word, Uncle Roy. You owe me one quid."

"You should actually charge him double, Phoebe." Ada told her, ignoring the annoyed glare being sent her way. "Hell is considered a bad words to some people, and you never know who's listening when he curses. It's good to make sure nobody's been offended."

"You're so smart, Uncle Ada." Phoebe nodded, grinning when that earned her a doting forehead kiss.

"Put it on my tab." Roy rolled his eyes. But he wasn't annoyed, not when those little displays of affection warmed his heart to witness.

"Can you hold this please?" The little girl politely asked, holding her hot chocolate out towards Ada.

"Of course, Trouble."

With her hands now were free, Phoebe moved to pull a notepad from her school bag. To add to Roy's aforementioned tab, no doubt.

"Come on, Roy. It'll be fun." Ada pouted, sipping at her own drink and cradling Phoebe's to her chest so that it stayed warm. "From what I've read from his and Rebecca's texts, he's an absolute knob. We can just go out and make fun of him for a bit. Get a meal out of it." She grinned when he slowly seemed to consider her words. "Dinner and a show, babe. Come on. I'll even say please."

(She didn't have to say please, though. Because he already decided that he would be going on this stupid date. Had subconsciously agreed to it as soon as the request left her mouth, in fact. Because he knew why she was being so adamant about this whole thing. Why she was so insistent on accompanying Rebecca Welton on this new journey.

It wasn't that long ago that Ada had sat Roy down and told him the truth of her injury; the pills and the crash and the cover up. And to give context, she'd also told him all about Rupert Mannion. How he'd been a saviour of sorts when she was younger, and how they stopped talking after she found out about his affairs; the confrontation, the spilt coffee, meeting Roy in the elevator.

Ada also told him about the guilt. About how much it had hurt her to lie to Rebecca. And how she still didn't feel like she made up for it – not fully, at least.

So if Ada wanted him to go on this stupid double date to quell the remaining guilt lingering in her gut, then he'd do it. Because he knew her. Knew that this was who Ada Tartt was, whether she was conscious of it or not; the kind of person who never asked for anything, and on the rare occasion that she did bid a favour, it was for the benefit of other people.)

"Fine."

She smirked, leaning over Phoebe to quickly kiss him. Roy tasted the chocolate on her mouth, and inhaled the scent of vanilla clinging to her neck. It was delicious, and the hostage takeover of his senses did nothing to help quell his hunger; the hunger he always felt when kissing her – not necessarily primal in every such way, but very much yearning.

"So, how was the match today?" Ada asked after pulling away. She raised a curious eyebrow at Phoebe, who just got done adding two pounds to Roy's tab. "Heard your striker performed Target Tartt, did you guys score the penalty?"

"We did!" The blonde nodded excitedly, always honoured to talk football with Ada. It didn't matter that she was now as close as family, Phoebe understood that the woman was an icon. "The whole thing was outstanding!"

"Yeah?" Ada laughed.

The glint in little Phoebe's eyes was oh, so familiar. She could recognise it in old photographs of herself; that adrenaline induced gleam which burned brighter than the camera's actual flash.

"And towards the end, I got a red card for elbowing a girl in her neck!"

   Ada blinked.

Roy leaned down to peck his niece's temple. "I'm very proud." He grinned. And the smile only widened when his girlfriend started laughing like an absolute child.

   "God!" She giggled, smothering Phoebe's chubby cheeks with kisses. "You absolute menace! Keep being an animal on the that pitch, Trouble. Just make sure you keep all your newtons in your beautiful head, okay?"

   Phoebe's cheeks flushed from all the affection. "Newtons means teeth in your language, right, Uncle Ada?" She asked, reaching for her hot chocolate again.

     "Me language?" Ada's jaw dropped in indignation. "What, bloody English?"

    "I don't think so." The little girl shook her head, giggling as she leaned back into her equally amused uncle.

    "Oi, don't worry, babe. We understand you well enough." He promised, a laugh in his dark eyes.

    This had been an ongoing joke between the Kent pair, an unoriginal routine which consisted of teasing Ada for her northern lilt and acting as though it were foreign. It started a few days ago, when the former model offered to make them sandwiches – or, as she'd called them, butties.

   "Whatever," She rolled her eyes, giving them both a potent side glance. "And here I was, about to ask if I could come to next week's match."

    Phoebe's eyes widened. "Oh, please!"

    Roy didn't match his niece in enthusiasm, and that was because he knew that if Ada came to a match, it wouldn't be alone. She'd likely drag one his old teammates along. Or worse, Ted Lasso. She had made many attempts to merge these newly separated parts of her life, and wasn't even trying for subtlety anymore. 

What was next, would she have him and Jamie play a game of fucking Twister?

"I'll try to come," Ada promised, softly clinking her cup against Phoebe's. She then turned to Roy and gave him an innocent smile. "And once the season's over, you're gonna have more time to see some friends. Maybe even not run out the backdoor when I invite them over."

He shrugged. "I see friends all the time."

"Right!" She nodded, a sarcastic grin on her face. "Your yoga mums. Of course!"

"Bit rich for you to mock me," Roy tilted his head. "You do those weird poses with the old men."

"Only old man I do weird poses with is you."

Phoebe tilted her head.

Roy's cheeks flushed, and he blamed the passing gust of wind. "Speaking of friends," He cleared his throat. "Your friend, Keeley, keeps bothering me about that Sky Sports gig."

"My friend, Keeley, is also your friend, Keeley." She reminded him. "And she's just trying to help."

Whilst Roy had done a good job at avoiding any and all people associated with Richmond FC, it was practically impossible to dodge Keeley Jones; his girlfriend's best friend who called him Roy-o, and who kept inviting him to matches, and who liked to show up very early in the morning so that she could cuddle with Ada before work – unabashedly kicking him out of the bed in doing so.

   And now, Keeley seemed to be invested in Roy's professional career. No doubt it was her position as the team's publicist that had her feeling responsible.

  But Roy wasn't on the team anymore.

  He wasn't a footballer.

   And he'd be damned if he became a fucking pundit.

    "Tell her to stop emailing me, I'm not interested." He grit, eyes facing forward.

   Ada frowned as she studied his side profile, trying to deduce all he was feeling from what little she could see. "Listen, if you're doing that thing where you say you don't want something, but secretly want me to encourage you, then give me a sign, okay? Because the last thing I'm going to do is insist you take a job you hate."

   Not when he was in a vulnerable point in his life. Not when he could accidentally shackle himself to a profession that he would come to loathe.

    Roy didn't say anything for a moment. And then, "How can I go on tv after that stupid fucking press conference?"

   "He cried." Phoebe informed, adding yet another pound to his tallied tab.

    "I know he did, Pheebs." Ada sighed. She rubbed a tired hand over her face before turning to face Roy again. He was looking at her now, an oddly vulnerable look in his eyes. "Hey, come on." She shook her head. "You think I didn't cry me eyes out when I stopped playing?"

   "On live fucking television?"

    Another pound.

   "Oh, God, no!" Ada scoffed, aghast. "Can you imagine if I did that?"

    His eye twitched.

   "I've never seen you cry, Uncle Ada." Phoebe mused with a tilted head.

   "That's because I don't do it." The former model shrugged before pointing a stern finger in Phoebe's face. "But, it's good for you. It shows strength. And it does wonders for the lashes." She then covered her ears, looking to Roy. "And it's super fucking hot."

  "I know you swore, but I won't bill you."

   Roy watched as his girlfriend kissed Phoebe's forehead again, in thanks this time. And watched as his niece fucking glowed. And swallowed thickly when Ada smiled that smile at him; not the cheeky one or the sarcastic one or the flirty one.

   It was a warm smile. Warmer than the piping chocolate drink he'd bought for them. Warmer than her naturally heated skin. It was the kind of smile that understood, the kind that knew you. That looked through you not in a way that violated, but in a way that. . .

   "Roy," She lightly shook her head. "If you are doing that encouragement fishing thing, then you should know I think you'd be a great pundit. Okay? Because you know the sport. And you know what it's like when they judge us. And you always know what to say -- even if you're a knob about it. And you just. . . know."

    He clenched his jaw, but he wasn't angry. There was a lump in his throat, but he wasn't sad. A chill went down his spine, but he wasn't cold.

Still, he couldn't possibly want this career for himself. He never did.

   "I don't wanna be a fucking football pundit, sat on fucking telly in a dumb fucking suit like a know-it-all twat." Roy inhaled sharply. "It's a shit job for shit people, I'd rather shit out my own fucking mouth than do that fucking shit."

    Phoebe blinked.

   Ada did, too. "Make sure you charge him tax, Trouble. In this economy, we can't have the rich not contribute."

   "Um, I don't know what that is," The little girl glanced down at her notepad. "But he's currently at £1,236."

   "Just round it up to two thousand." Ada shrugged, grinning when Roy shot her a lethal glare. It was good to know that this element of their dynamic still breathed life – even if he seemed unappreciative of its longevity.

   "Can I have a pound, Uncle Ada?"

   Her eyes darted away from her irritated boyfriend, widening defensively. "But I didn't say nothing!"

    "For the binoculars." Phoebe pointed to coin operated viewers, the ones favoured by tourists.

   "Oh." Ada reached a hand into her satchel, pulling out a heavy coin purse and plopping it into the girl's open hand. "About fifty in there. Try to spot the moon, alright?"

   Phoebe grinned excitedly, "I'm going to see if I can find Pluto! Kokoruda will never believe me!" She gave Ada a quick hug before darting over to the mounted viewer.

   "That'll keep her distracted." Ada hummed, sliding across the bench and cuddling up to Roy. He wrapped an arm around her and finished up the last of his drink.

   "How was the match today?"

     Ada grabbed his hand, absentmindedly kissing his knuckles as she mumbled her answer. "You don't have to ask me about work, Roy."

    It must have been hard, she knew that. Hard to discuss the team and the sport that he loved but could no longer call his own.

    "I want to know." He assured her. The last thing Roy wanted was for Ada to think him unsupportive. He didn't attend the matches, and that made him felt guilty enough (even though she insisted that it was okay, and that she had once been the very same), but to not ask her about them? To not check in? To be a man so pathetic and pitiful that she felt bad discussing it, this sport that brought them together?

   He did not want that at all.

   Roy was serious about Ada Tartt. Serious enough that he could sit through her tales of locker room mischief and the thrilling recounting of games. Because if she could open up about her accident, and comfort him as he went through what she'd once gone through (which had to have been difficult to relive through someone else), then he could do this very simple thing.

    "Well," She hummed, perching her chin on his shoulder so that they could lock eyes. "A dog died today."

    Silence.

    Roy pursed his lips. "I never know when you're making one those weird fucking jokes that I don't understand."

   "Oh, I'm being very serious, yeah."

     He stared at her, looking for a sign that she was japing – because this actually wouldn't be the first time she made a dead dog joke.

There a small quirk at the edge of her mouth. A faint glint of amusement in her eyes. A barely noticeable quiver in her bottom lip. And, normally, one would take note of these things and conclude that she was lying, but Roy knew her better than that; Ada was always amused when in a state of disbelief.

She also really liked to throw him off.

"Alright, a dog died." He rolled his eyes and pulled her closer. "Bet it was that Dutch prick that killed him. Just because he wanted to."

Ada laughed, "Are you jealous?"

"No."

He knew he didn't have to be, and knew that there was no reason for him to worry, but he couldn't help it sometimes. After all, didn't Ada once complain about him the way she now complained about the team's new centre back? And didn't they have a history together (a one night stand that she barely remembered, sure, but a history nonetheless)? And wasn't he a really good player, someone that could run and score and --?

Her lips were on his before he could give it any more thought. Her tongue was in his mouth before he could voice anything aloud. Her hands were cupping his cheeks before they could redden with an unwarranted envy.

Ada.

He really fucking liked her.

"Jealousy," She mumbled, brushing her lips against his own. "It's so fucking stupid, Roy."

"Yeah."

Ada gently tugged at the curls on the back of his head, creating a small space between them. "You don't see me getting jealous about Ms. Bowen."

He shot her a look which was both incredulous and unimpressed.

"Sure, she wants to fuck me. What's fucking new? Everyone does." She rolled her eyes. "But, she looks at you like you're going to buy her roses and make her dinner."

"Are you jealous?" He echoed her question despite having no idea what she was talking about. To him, Ms. Bowen was a coworker and nothing more. In fact, he only learned what her first name was today, when Ada had used it to address her.

It was a new discovery.

And another discovery was this; the prospect of having a jealous girlfriend was not as thrilling as he thought it would be.

Thankfully, a prospect was all it was.

"No, I'm not," Ada softly shook her head, gentle eyes darting all over his face as she took him in. She really fucking liked this strong man. "Because I trust you, and that means something to me. It means everything."

A beat of silence.

And then Roy cupped the back of her neck, bringing her in for another kiss. One that he hoped would properly convey all that he was afraid to voice.

   It was almost scary, how good she was at this. Soothing and talking and reading his mind. Addressing issues that he never thought to shed light on. Neatly wrapping things up, like presents from Hell, before they dared leave the box.

It was also scary how fast she could go from the poster child of wisdom and maturity to just a fucking child – one that lived to provoke him.

"Besides, the only man you should be jealous of is Higgins." Ada told him once they pulled apart for air. "Because I was this close," She pinched her forefinger and thumb, leaving a small distance between them. "To watching Star Wars with him."

"Fucking what?" He glared at her like she committed the worst slight against him. "You never want to fucking watch Star Wars. It's always those stupid German movies that you put on. And the one with the old woman peeling fucking nuts, you make me sit through twenty minutes of that one scene-- what's that fucking face?"

Roy didn't know what to do with the secret smile she shot him.

Or the unidentifiable glint in her eyes.

Or the way she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"Uncle Ada, I think I found Pluto!"

All he could think to do was slowly hug her back.

Because it felt right.

And because they really fucking liked each other.

✸

    If Ada thought that everything and everyone would go back to normal come Monday, then she was only partially right. Because whilst most of the team had managed to recover from Friday's match, Dani Rojas, their star player, their fucking ace, had not.

"I don't wanna say I told you so," Beard mumbled, a grave look on his face. "But I told you so. Jinxing is serious."

   She turned away from the pitch to glare at him, but wasn't given the opportunity to say anything because Ted was finally making his way over.

  "Hey, sorry I'm late, gang!" He grinned, patting Nate on the shoulder. "I was helping the boss pick out a nail polish colour for her date tonight."

   Ada glanced at his hand, spotting the various blues and pinks and whites tinting his nail plates. "Are you coming out to us?"

   Ted frowned, glancing at his hand. "What, is this the lesbian flag?"

   "Trans." Beard hummed, but his face was lacking in amusement. Ada and Nate were much the same, their shoulders slumped and foreheads marred with stress lines.

   "What's wrong?" Ted asked after noticing their glum dispositions, stuffing his manicured hands in his pockets.

   "What's wrong?" Ada rose an eyebrow. "Um, well, a lot, actually. Yeah. The sacrifice took more than just a fucking dog."

   He tilted his head in confusion, looking to the other two coaches for an explanation. Thankfully, Nate, who had always been a shaken bottle of nerves, was ready to express his dismay.

   "We have a Shakespearean fucking tragedy." The former kit man informed him, pointing towards the end of the pitch.

   The entire team was stood around the goal, engaging in what appeared to be a  pre-training free kick drill.

   "Come on, Dani. One more time, yeah? Have another go!" Isaac McAdoo was coaxing – less like a captain and more like an older brother. He set the ball down before the striker, giving him one more nod. "Go on, yeah?"

   The rest of the players clapped, their own words of encouragement echoing around the pitch.

    Ada stuffed her hands in the pockets of her Richmond jacket, secretly crossing her fingers as she watched Dani kick the ball. Rather than hit the net as it usually did or smack against the post like today's previous attempts, the ball flew over the goal entirely. They all watched as it sailed over the distant wall, landing somewhere outside the stadium.

   The girl blinked. She hadn't made a shot that inept since she was about seven years old. And even then it had been on purpose; to get her father's attention, or so that her little league coach would suggest staying longer to practice.

   "Me merezco todo lo que me está pasando, Dios!" Dani yelled at the sky.

   "How many has he missed?" Ted dreaded to ask, eyes not straying from the car wreck of a scene.

   "The opposite of how many he hasn't missed." Ada hummed. "Every single one."

   "Oh, boy." The moustached coach sighed, rubbing his hands together. "Alright, Soufflé, with me. We might need the Macarena." He gestured for her to follow him over to the far end of the pitch. "Hey, Dani! Come on, son. Let's take a walk, huh?  The three of us? A striker, a coach, and a striker turned coach. Ain't that neat?"

    Ada lagged behind the pair a bit, allowing for Ted to establish a comforting environment – as he was wont to do.

    "Wow," She heard Jan Maas sigh. "We're watching the end of someone's career."

    Ada turned to glare at him. "Shut the fuck up, you twat."

    "Sorry!" The blonde quickly raised his hands in defence, expression void of condescension and all things bad. "Forgot how sensitive you are to footballers losing their touch."

    "He's Dutch!" Sam quickly reminded her, always one to play mediator.

   "Well, yes," Jan Maas nodded. "But I'm also binge watching Love Conquers All and it's incredibly tragic how Jamie Tartt has fallen."

   Ada felt her left eye twitch.

   "It's Lust Conquers All, actually." Winchester corrected, popping a mint in his mouth as he started stretching. "There's no love in England."

   "That's not true!" Colin glared before pointing towards Ada. "Her and Roy are basically married."

   The team turned to look at her, but she'd walked off after Jan Mass made the comment about her brother.

    "Sorry, Coach." Dani was already saying when she approached him and Ted. "I don't know what is happening to me."

   Ted quickly shook his head, a football secured beneath his pit. "No, no need to apologise. Dani, what happened between you and Earl, that wasn't your fault, you know? You suffered an unlikely and tragic coincidence."

   Ada nodded, threading her right arm through the striker's left one. "A tragic but inevitable fate, amigo. Sort of like Jennifer Aniston in Marley and Me."

   "Right," The coach said in an effort to encourage her participation, but quickly speaking before before she could mention any other movies about dead dogs. "And, y'know, like the coincidences throughout Paul Thomas Anderson's 1999 opus, Magnolia."

   Dani tilted his head. "Is that Tom Cruise with a little, tiny ponytail?"

    "No, Dani. I think you're thinking about The Last Samurai." Ted pat him on the shoulder.

   "He's got a little, tiny ponytail in Magnolia, too, Coach."

    Ada whirled around when Beard's voice sounded from behind them. How the fuck did they not hear him creep up? The grass was incredibly crunchy, having been manually dried after last night's downpour to ensure that nobody slipped during training.

   (It didn't matter how long they'd known each other or how frequently they hung out, he would always be a complete and utter mystery to her.)

   "Oh, thank you, Coach!" Ted glanced over his shoulder, just as surprised as Ada to see his best friend lurking. He turned back around and continued their walk. "Uh, my apologies, Dani. Tom Cruise was a rocking a little, tiny ponytail in both those films."

   "Like Ada." The Mexican boy hummed, nodding to the girl hanging on his arm.

    She'd been growing it out since the team got relegated, and it now brushed against her shoulder blades. Still quite short when compared to most women she knew, but long by Ada's own standards.

   She'd been cropping her hair in a boyish cut since before getting joining Man City. She could remember how disappointed her paternal grandmother had been when seeing it. How indifferent her father was. How her mother had dotingly kissed her forehead, and how she continuously praised her for being bold. How Jamie thought it was funny to have a twin who looked even more like him.

    In truth, Ada loved the short hair. It had been good to her; incredibly convenient when playing and easy to maintain when she was a model. And, well, it was her look.

    An Ada Tartt staple.

    But, her father--

    "Exactly!" Ted grinned. "Just like little Ada. Look at that beautiful head of hair she's got." He then pointed to both her and Dani. "Both of y'all actually. And--wait, now I'm forgetting my point. What was I saying before? Um, oh! Yeah, point is tragedies happen."

   "Hmm." The striker slowly nodded.

    "It's a one time thing. So let's get away from the bad mojo coming off that penalty box and, you know, have some fun. Let's kick some corners, right?"

   Dani stiffened, "I--"

    "You remember what you said to me?" Ada gently reminded him, tugging at their joined arms and bringing them both to a halt. "The day we met? When I told you about me leg, and you said I could shoot with me left one because the best can do that?" She waited for him to nod before speaking again. "Well, you're the fucking best, Dani. And what happened on Friday? That's just a right leg."

    He stared at her for a moment, jaw quivering and eyes very far away. It was like he was hearing her, but thinking of something else entirely. "Okay, Coach."

   "Hey," She cupped the back of his head. "It's Ada, remember? I'm your friend."

    Dani swallowed thickly, giving her a halfhearted smile. One that looked so alien on his typically cheery face. "Okay, I will do corners, Ada."

   Ted exchanged a look with Beard, the two of them biting back grins that would no doubt come off as inappropriate given the circumstances.

    She was fucking good.

   "Hey, fellas!" Ted waved over at the team. "Line up for Midnight Poutine!" He faced Dani once more and set the ball down before him. "There we go. Something nice and easy, help you get your feel back."

    "Alright, Dani." Ada winked at him as she and Ted moved to stand a little ways away.

    "Take a deep breath!" Ted reminded him. "I want you to picture the shot. Be the ball, Dani."

   "He's got this." Beard crossed his arms.

    Ada snorted, unconsciously mimicking his stance. "Are you immune to jinxing things or what?"

    He turned to glare at her. "I was until you just jinxed it!"

    Ted went to chide them, but the only sound to escape the confines of his mouth was a pained yelp – because a ball had just struck the back of his leg at full force.

    Dani gasped, clapping a hand over him mouth. "I am sorry, Coach!"

    "No, hey, hey! That's alright, okay? This is fine! Hey, this is fine!"

     "This is not fine." Ada sighed about twenty minutes later, lazily plopping down on Ted's office chair.

    She watched as Beard took his place across from her, and as Ted perched himself on the corner of the desk. Nate went to drag his own chair over from their shared office (the little room attached to this one, furnished with two desks, a shelf, and a lamp), but chose to sit himself on the shelf again. It was far more convenient that way.

    And as if summoned by a dog whistle, Higgins, too, walked into the office. He leaned against the window -- as was his unassigned assigned position.

   "Well, Soufflé, I ain't gonna dispute you on that one." Ted mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I am more slumped than Paul Bunyan's local forest. You know what I mean?"

   "If I'm being completely honest, I rarely ever know what you mean." She told him, leaning back in her seat.

    Nate clapped a hand as if to garner everyone's attention. "Listen. If Dani needs motivation, we could always just show him his goddamn paycheck."

    Higgins blinked at him.

   "I mean," Ted shook his head. "Well, that's a tad aggressive, you know?"

   "And dicky." Ada added, tone sharp and eyebrow raised even sharper. "Come on! I mean, this is fucking Dani. All he ever wants to do is help people."

    Beard nodded in agreement, picking up a marker and fiddling with it as he tried to think of a plan – something better than threatening to tear up a pay check.

    "Seems like the first thing we need to do is define the issue, yeah?" Higgins thought aloud.

    Beard sat up straight, using his teeth to remove the marker's cap and quickly jotting something down. "I think we already know what it is, don't we, Coach?"

    "What you talking about, Willis?" Ted tilted his head.

   "Wait!" Ada gaped. "Is your first fucking name Willis?"

    Ted snorted, opening his mouth to confirm her suspicions, but his amusement quickly froze and died when Beard held up a sheet of paper.

   Written across the horizontal page, in bold, black letters, was two words;

THE YIPS.

   "Hey!" He hissed, eyes darting around the room as if he expected consequences to immediately manifest from thin air. "The Y word! You're not supposed to say that out loud!"

    Beard rolled his eyes, "Which is why I wrote it."

    "See, I don't think the universe appreciates all your loopholes, Willis." Ada shook her head. "Your high horse has muck on its shoes."

    Beard glared at her. "Adeline."

    "Oi, you take that back!"

    "What's the yips?" Nate couldn't help but wonder, and that question brought Ada and Beard's quarrelling to an immediate halt.

    But at what cost?

    "Shh!" Beard and Ted quickly silenced him.

    Higgins clearly didn't get the memo. "But what are the yips?"

    Ada watched as Beard launched himself from his chair and ran towards the office door, firmly shutting it.

   Ted rubbed a hand over his face, tone incredulous as he asked, "Are you kidding me, you two?"

    Nate and Higgins looked to the only girl in the room, clearly in search of a verbal explanation.

   "It's an American thing." She shrugged. "It was what Tommy Armour called the spasms in his hand, you know? The reason he had to drop out of that golfing tournament."

   "History lesson, good." Ted nodded. "Context is good. Here's some more context; we don't say the Y word out loud! Y'all understand? It's like saying Macbeth in a theatre or Voldemort at Hogwarts or, um,"

    "Or saying Bloody Mary in the men's room upstairs."

    Nate pointed a shaky finger in Ada's direction, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please stop that." He took a deep breath before looking over at Beard, who was now sitting back down. "Okay, so, what are they? Because we're not playing golf here."

    "Ada's got it." He adjusted the cap on his head. "Amour dropping out of golf. Mackey Sasser leaving the Mets. It's when, just out of nowhere, an athlete can't do the basic fundamentals of their sport."

    Ted nodded, lips pursed. "Yeah, you know, like Chuck Knoblauch's throw to first or Charles Barkley's swing."

     Ada let out a pained groan. "God, it's fucking torture when you talk about sports that shouldn't exist!"

    Was this how her mother had felt, listening to Jamie and Ada conjure up their dream line ups every night as she tucked them into bed? Entertaining their ramblings about little league, and their rants about the matches they'd watched? Putting up with their word vomit as they discussed the things they wished they'd seen in person; the Chelsea game against United, PSG's French Cup honour in 1982.

   If Georgie felt then what Ada felt now, then she could only beg her mother's forgiveness.

     Ted cleared his throat when neither Nate or Higgins stepped up to defend him. "Sometimes being here feels like being in a foreign country, you ever feel that way?" He mumbled to his best friend.

    Beard shrugged in what can you do? sort of way.

     "Ted, what are your thoughts on therapy?" Higgins suddenly asked.

    "Oh." The coach sharply inhaled, blinking at the suddenness and the weight of the question. He glanced at Ada, and noted that she was just as stunned. "Um, general apprehension and a modest Midwestern skepticism. Why do you ask?"

    "Well, maybe we should bring in a sports psychologist." Higgins shrugged. "I know a lot of other clubs have had tremendous success with that."

     "It's not a bad idea, Coach." Beard mused, sipping at his bottle of water and then passing it over to Ada when she made grabby hands.

    Ted pursed his lips in thought. He looked at Higgins, who clearly believed this to be the solution. And then he glanced at Nate, who seemed to agree.

    "Uh, Soufflé?" He cleared his throat, watching as she screwed the cap back onto the water bottle. "What do you think? Psychologist, yes or no?"

    "Fuck no."

    Relief instantly washed over him; that was the answer he so desperately wanted to hear. The answer he could use to reject this proposal. But Beard was giving him a look, knowing and stern. The kind of look that told him he couldn't put his own uneasiness before sensible logic, and that he couldn't use a twenty something year old's cynicism as a scapegoat.

    "Okay." He slowly nodded, prolonging his inevitable acceptance. "Um, let me think here. Let me get my thinking cap on, okay. Uh, okay, yeah, let's do it."

    Ada gave him an unimpressed look.

   

   

   

✸

   The unimpressed look she gave John at dinner was only a touch more subtle than the one she'd given Ted Lasso, and that was for Rebecca's sake more than anything.

   "And now, we're nose-to-nose with one another, and half of me is thinking, just kick this jerk in the balls! And when he bends over, give him a knee to the nose and be done with it because screw this guy!" The man waved a hand, as if flipping through the pages of a complex novel and plagiarising his entire narrative from there. "And the other half of me is thinking But it's Martin Short, you love Martin Short!"

    "I used to love Martin Short, too, a few hours ago." Ada mumbled under her breath, downing her water as though it were something much stronger.

    Roy knocked his knee against hers, now biting back an amused huff as well as an annoyed groan.

    "Well," John continued. "The next thing you know, this tiny American woman says, Is that it?" He let out a cackle, as if this three hour anecdote was worth it just to get to that stupid Valley girl impression. "And sure enough, there it was, wedged between the couch cushions. Martin Short's wallet!"

   "Martin Short's wallet!" Rebecca echoed in an obvious attempt to stir engagement.

    Ada nodded. "Wait, let me guess! Don't spoil anything. Was it Martin Short's wallet?"

   That time, Roy couldn't hold in his amusement, especially not when John's cheeks flushed a humbled shade of scarlet. He snorted into his glass of scotch and nudged his girlfriend again.

    Rebecca gave them a stern look, still forcing a laugh. "Yes! Martin Short's wallet." She pointed to her date. "He didn't steal it!"

    "No, because, that is insane!" Ada gasped in an attempt to sound genuinely entertained. It was worth it to see the faint look of relief and gratitude flicker across Rebecca's face.

    "That's madness." Roy agreed to please his former boss. He waved to a passing waiter, holding up his empty glass. "Could I get another one, please?"

    "Oh, me, too!" Ada held up her own. "Sparkling water. Extra fucking sparkle, please. I need to feel buzzed." She then reached for Roy's hand under the table, fiddling with his calloused fingers and hoping it would quell her boredom.

    He watched her with a soft look in his eyes.

    Rebecca tilted her head, watching them both.

    "You know, John," Ada shook her head. "I always knew Broadway was a breeding ground for violence and chaos. I mean, there was a reason Rachel Berry was so insistent on it."

    "Oh, I love Glee!"

    She blinked at him. "You don't say."

    "But, who cares about fictional Tony winners when I have two stars sat in front of me, hey?" He smiled, briefly glancing at Rebecca. "Rolls balls like a cart, beats teams like a heart, we'd marry the lass, Ada fucking Tartt!"

   Ada bit back an aggressive eye roll.

  That chant should have died year ago, before she even left Man City. It was a thing of her childhood; a rhyme her mates made up with when they were all still in school. They'd sing it during weekend games, or when she played football in the park or in ginnels. She used to find it incredibly endearing.

   But then a few of her classmates had chanted it during one of Ada's first televised matches, with the intention to comfort her and do nought else. And, like most things in her life, it became bigger than what she wanted – a soundbite, a ringtone, whatever.

   She much preferred when it was a local thing; teasingly hummed by bakers and vendors when she walked by, rudely parodied by little boys who would chant it outside of her house whenever she visited home.

    "And to think that you, Ada Tartt, are dating He's here, he's there, he's every fucking where, Roy Kent!"

    She slowly nodded, leaning back as Roy wrapped an arm around the top rail of her chair. "Yeah, no, he's super lucky."

    Her boyfriend pinched her bare shoulder in silent retaliation.

    "John's football mad," Rebecca smiled. "And he was just telling me that you two being together is almost like an English royalty thing." Her face dropped when they appeared more disgusted than flattered, both of them grimacing.

    She was trying very hard to make John look good, but it was seemingly impossible to cater to Ada Tartt and Roy Kent. They were like the pickiest eaters at a banquet hall.

   Roy picked up on her displeasure and cleared his throat, reluctantly plastering a nice enough smile on his face. "So, uh, football mad. Terrific. Who do you support?"

   "Well, I bounce back and forth between United and City. Whichever club's winning."

    Ada felt her eye twitch, and she was sure she'd gone deaf in one ear. "I'm sorry?"

    Rebecca scratched her brow in dread.

    Roy dropped his head low.

    "Did--" She shook her head. "Did you say you switch loyalties? Between fucking United and City?" He wasn't given the chance to answer. "I'll have you know that I've watched every recorded Manchester derby available, and memorised the stats from archives dating back to 1881 – which was when the first derby was held, alright? And let me tell you this, City is the only fucking answer!"

    "Well--"

    "I mean, the largest victory ever had was in 1926. Do you know the score, John? Six to one. Alright? Six for City."

"Yeah, yeah, I knew all that." John took a sip of his water.  "See, that's why I usually lean towards City."

    "Stick to Glee, John boy."

    The man laughed, and Rebecca was quick to join in. She was so happy her date took everything as a joke. It certainly helped them avoid many an awkward situation.

   "So, Roy," He clapped. "How's retirement treating you? I mean, I can't imagine how different your life must be now. You must miss it all like mad, yeah?"

Ada watched as Roy stiffened in his seat. And as he briefly stared off in a faraway direction before shaking his head no, very much in denial.

She knew he missed the game. Missed playing it and talking about it and even fucking watching it. He avoided the sport like the plague when not coaching little league, and it was through watching him force this detachment that Ada realised how damaging her own grieving methods had been.

Football was everything to this man, just like it was everything to her. He breathed it the way she did. Thought about it constantly. Centred his life around it. Had been a figure in the league for over a fucking decade. Why act like none of that mattered? Was it to save face? To have it hurt just a little less?

Were the few seconds of peace truly worth the pain of pretending not to care?

"I don't." He shrugged, answering John's invasive query.

(She knew he did.)

"So what are you doing now then?"

"Oh, you know, busy, busy." Roy sniffed, reaching under the table to fiddle with Ada's ringed fingers. "I'm actually doing a bit of coaching at the moment."

"Oh?" John's eyes widened, as if happy to hear that he could now disloyally support another club. "Well, that's great. You two pursuing coaching at the same time is incredible, I think."

"We're very grateful to have Ada over at
Richmond." Rebecca raised her Pinot noir. "A beautiful girl, a beautiful addition. A nightmare on the pitch, but that's what we love."

Roy raised his drained glass. "To the nightmare."

    Ada elbowed him, but he noticed that the glint was back in her eyes. That gleam from Friday, the one that somehow managed to match the slip dress she currently had on. It was soft like the satin material, and pure like the pearly shade of white.

Fuck.

She was beautiful, Ada.

He always knew that, sure, and had begrudgingly admitted it to himself even when they couldn't stand each other, yes, but it was different now. Everything was, really. And it wasn't just the dress she had on. Or how the warm lighting complimented her tanned skin. Or how good she looked with her hair loosely twisted up – and how her neck, slim and bare and sweetly scented, was begging to be kissed.

No, it wasn't any of that. As appreciative as he was to those little details, the ones that would have had knights fighting for her fucking honour or whatever it was that Phoebe liked to say, it was more than that.

She was more.

"Well, if we're toasting, then let us toast to your cup final win next week." Ada raised her own glass, a teasing look on her face as she leaned forward to kiss her boyfriend on the mouth.

He felt her smile against him when John let out another gasp, and lightly nipped at her bottom lip to ensure that she didn't laugh.

"A cup final already?" He gaped. "Fantastic. What, uh, sorry -- what cup is in October?"

Rebecca quietly sighed.

"West London under nine girls." Roy nodded firmly, squeezing Ada's waist when he heard her snort. "Can I get another drink, please?" He desperately asked another passing waiter.

"Well, you know, Roy's actually been offered a position to be a pundit for Sky Sports." Rebecca cheered, ignoring the looks sent her way.

It wasn't like she pitied the former captain, but his life did seem rather bleak on paper. Happy relationship aside, he had nothing going for him. A football legend couldn't just wind up coaching little league forever; it was a waste. A sin bordering on sacrilege.

Ada clearly worried that his career as a pundit would mirror hers as a model, but Rebecca, who had years more of wisdom and experience behind her, knew that this was what prison looked like to Roy Kent; not a contract binding him to a boring television job, but a life with no football.

"Of course you've been made an offer," John grinned, dabbing his lip with a serviette. "You'd be amazing at that job."

And he genuinely would be, if that was what he wanted. Ada believed it despite her natural apprehension. She meant what she'd said on that bench; that Roy knew the game. That he understood the language of athletes, and understood the power of criticism. Knew that it could make or break a player.

"He'd be good at any job." She turned to face her boyfriend, and was thrilled to see that he was already looking at her. Dark eyes, and curly hair, and that little ghost of a smile hiding behind that growing beard. His cheeks were flushed from drink, and the black sweater he wore nicely contrasted his fair skin. He was beautiful, Roy. She truly thought so, in every way. "He's driven, the prick."

"I could not agree more." Rebecca smiled to herself, eyes darting between the pair. It was crazy, how much they matured together. How they used their relationship as a tool for growth rather than an excuse to stay the same.

Rebecca had made that mistake once. She'd given up on changing and progressing, the way a human was meant to continuously do for the remainder of their life, because she assumed she didn't have to anymore. A man had chosen her, and had liked her well enough to wed her, so why alter anything?

Ada Tartt had many admirers. Even before the fame, if her retellings of youthful devilry were any indication of the truth. But she never pursued them; not seriously, at least. Whether it was a rooted dislike for commitment or a simple distrust for relationships and the like, nobody knew.

So to choose this man? To take in his niece so that his sister could study? And to accompany him to physical therapy? And to hold his hand in a restaurant full of eyes? That was growth. The kind of growth that came with putting someone else first for a bit.

Rebecca seriously thought Roy Kent was some sort of miracle worker.

And John certainly seemed to share that opinion.

"Well," He raised his hand like a pupil in class. The kind that would go on to speak even if not called upon to do so. "Can I just say that your retirement speech was amazing. It's the first time my father's forwarded me an email in the last five years that wasn't about the scourge of immigration."

    Roy's jaw pulsed.

"Maybe he doesn't email you because he's scared that you'll tell him about Michael Short's wallet." Ada shrugged.

Her boyfriend blinked. And then he raised his glass, which was still very much empty. "Cheers."

Dinner wrapped up not too long after that, and it had surprisingly been Rebecca that decided to call it a night, claiming that she couldn't stay out much longer on a weekday.

Ada and Roy watched as she bid her beau farewell, scoffing in sync when he leaned in to kiss her.

"God," The former model shook her head. "And in front of us, too, like. . . does he know no shame?"

Roy bit the inside of his cheek, choosing not to point out that they themselves had kissed about ten or so times throughout dinner. And that they weren't Rebecca Welton's parents, who she had to act chaste in front of. And that Rebecca and John were actually standing on the opposite end of the car park, so it was Ada, who was watching them rather intently, that knew no shame.

"See ya!" John suddenly waved to them.

Roy gave a short nod, "Cheers."

"Good night!" Ada called out in what must have been tonight's most impressive act of courtesy. No doubt it was the fact that dinner was over that had her back in good spirits.

The couple watched as Rebecca approached them, a look of fear and anticipation marring her face. It was their truthful opinion that she wanted. Their genuine impression. "Well? What do you think?"

"I think," Ada swallowed, eyes studying her friends expression. "That he's, you know, stable. Which is good. Because it rhymes with table, and you love tables. Maybe you could love him. Who knows?"

"What?"

Roy rolled his eyes. She'd been criticising the man all night, and now that her opinions were supposed to be voiced, she couldn't commit? He knew that she didn't want to hurt Rebecca's feelings, but Roy, who had more years of wisdom and experience, knew that this would only hurt her more; not being alone, but being in a relationship with someone who was average.

He couldn't imagine anything worse than being tied to someone who didn't thrill you. Who you appreciated, but didn't care for. Who you didn't mind sleeping next to, but didn't feel excited to see again come morning. Who you liked, but could never really. . .

"Bex, I just think that, you know, a man is like a box of chocolates--"

"Fucking Hell," Roy groaned, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and staring down at his shoes. He only glanced up when he felt eyes burning into him.

"Is there a problem?" Rebecca tilted her head, visibly affronted.

He glanced over at Ada, who was looking up at him with wide eyes. Like she couldn't believe he was going to do this.

"Tell the truth," Roy urged before turning to face Rebecca. "He's fine. That's it," He shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that. Most people are fine. But it isn't about him, it's about why the fuck you think he deserves you. And how you think being with him could change every shitting thing for the better."

Ada didn't know what emotion was currently coursing through her veins, but it made her feel incredibly sick. Like a syrup so thick and saccharine that it rotted her bones and brought an ache to her teeth. It hurt. And it was addicting. And watching Roy speak to Rebecca as if he knew what he was talking about, as if he firmly believed all that he was saying. . .

Fuck.

"You deserve someone that makes you feel like you've been struck by fucking lightening." He shook his head. "Don't you dare settle for fine."

Rebecca stared at him for a moment, eyes glistening with tears and a sheen of revelation. She then glanced at Ada, whose own eyes were dryly glimmering.

Roy followed the woman's line of sight, looking over at his girlfriend. She was staring at him again. And that glint was back. And so, too, was that secret smile.

It absentmindedly tugged at the corners of her pillowy lips.

Fuck.

"Not that's it's any of my business." He cleared his throat.

"No," Rebecca shook her head, smiling to herself as she walked towards her parked car. "It's, um, you've given me much to think about."

(You've given everyone much to think about.)

It was silent as they watched her drive away. The only sound to be heard was the faint chatter coming from the restaurant and the chirping of insects.

"Thank you." Ada blurted when the car was out of sight. "Roy, I--" She screwed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his. "That was so. . . Shit, she's me best friend and you just--I don't even know."

He gently pecked her on the mouth, heart lodged in his throat. "Thought Keeley was your best friend."

"I have a lot of them," She chuckled, eyes lazily tracing every inch of his face. "Don't you?"

"You're my best friend."

She blinked at him.

A warmth immediately pooled in her belly. One that clashed against the cool feeling of him slowly cupping her face. She felt her lip quiver, but it wasn't because she was biting back a laugh again. Or even because she felt the urge to cry.

Ada didn't know what it was.

And she didn't know what to say, either.

"I'm gonna tell you something, but you can't laugh," Roy told her, softly brushing his nose against hers. How was she still warm? And why did his mind choose to preface this confession the same way that he'd prefaced it last time?

Was it his subconscious, scolding him for letting something as measly as a knock on the door stop him from saying the words? Was it using the repetition to highlight how much time had passed since Jamie's interruption? Forcing him to see that it had been months since then, and that he was only now working up the courage again?

(Roy firmly believed that it wasn't cowardice that had him forgo confessing – how could he ever be afraid to tell Ada Tartt anything? Instead, he knew it to be insecurity. Knew that he couldn't have told her so soon after his accident, because then she would've felt obligated to say it back. And the last thing he wanted to do was trap her, especially after she was finally fucking free.)

"Are you gonna make a funny?" She teased breathlessly, giving him another kiss. She loved being completely wrapped up in him, her best friend; loved the single malt on his mouth, and the cold of his palms, and the feel of his beard scratching against her face as they stood close together.

"Shhh," Roy shook his head. "Ada, I'm just gonna fucking say it. And if you laugh, I'm so serious--" He swallowed thickly, caressing the soft of her cheek with his thumb. "Fuck. I love you."

He felt her still in his hold. And felt himself stiffen when she pulled away slightly. And when she slowly dragged his hands off her face.

"Hmm?"

But relief washed over his shoulders like tepid water when she moved to cup his own cheek. And when she smiled that smile; not the cheeky one or the secret one. The warm one. And Roy was fascinated with the way her brown iris was completely washed away with the ebony of her pupil, turning her eyes into two opaque pool.

And in this pool of black, there was a little lighthouse, drifting towards the shallow end. It was that fucking glint again. The spark that had made its home there.

And in its home, it became a home. One for him to crawl into, the way he crawled into her bed nearly every night.

Ada sniffled as she fingered the little curls at the back of his head. And then she opened her mouth to say two words.

Except, it wasn't the two words he expected to hear. Not me too, but--

"I know."

Roy blinked for moment, lips pursed.

(Was that all she was going to say? Because it was good that she knew, he wanted her to always know, but what did that even mean, really? Was she making a joke of this whole thing? Did she think he was making a funny?)

She stared at him expectantly. There was a laugh in her throat and it seeped into her next words. "This is the part where you cry because I'm about to get frozen in carbonite."

He slowly tilted his head.

The tip of his tongue was caught between his teeth.

Fuck.

"Did you watch Star Wars?"

She looked away from him for a second, blinking away the irritating sting in her eyes before turning to face him once more.

"I wouldn't do that for anyone else, okay?"

I love you, too.

✸

"So, you didn't say it back?"

Her smile dropped.

     "Nate," Ted chided, "Stop being mean. Keep counting."

   The former kit man frowned, looking away from Ada and over to Beard and Ted, who were sat at their respective desks and slapping a paper ball at each other.

   "I--" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I lost count."

    "Four hundred and ten, four hundred and eleven, four hundred and twelve," Ada sighed tiredly, leaning off the wall and walking further into the main office. She'd been sat at her own desk for hours, working on a new drill schedule – and had also worked up the courage to tell three of her closest mates about last night's events.

    (Ada thought it might have been one of the best nights of her life. And she wasn't even talking about the sex, which was confusing.)

    Ted and Beard had shivered when she mentioned anything intimate, but were beyond ecstatic when hearing about everything else. So deep were they in their state of elation that they nearly halted their game to gossip further.

   Nate, on the other hand, had been confused. After hearing her word for word recount of the confession, he thought it was obvious that Ada hadn't said it back. She just quoted a movie, the way Ted Lasso quoted movies during pep talks.

   Was that all that love was?

   Surely not.

   "I just don't understand," He told her from his usual place on the shelf.

   Beard sighed, eyes trained on the scrunched up piece of paper. "The L word. She didn't say it, but she implied it."

   "Do you think he doesn't know?" She had to ask, lightly pulling at her growing hair. It was a new tic she'd developed when stressed; her body's way of combating foreign anxieties by tugging at the foreign addition to her person.

   "Of course, he knows!" Ted grinned, waving his free hand and using the other to perform a rather impressive backswing on the sailing paper ball. "You said y'all had fun last night, right? That you went for ice cream after the L bomb and then watched movies all night?"

   "I mean, we put movies on, but we didn't watch them." She mumbled absentmindedly.

    Nate blushed.

    Ted and Beard grimaced, as if the fact that she was sexually active was something that they didn't dare consider true.

    "Okay, see?" The moustached coach cleared his throat. "Now I don't know about Roy Kent, but if I told a woman I loved her and then felt rejected, I would go home." He paused. "Well, I'd walk her home first. And maybe take her for ice cream if she wanted it, but I wouldn't insist or anything. I mean, unless I thought she looked hungry, y'know."

   "Hmm." Beard nodded, briefly glancing over at Ada when the ball was airborne. "He knows you mean it. You do mean it, right?"

   "Yes!" She nodded strongly. "I fucking love him. Like, a lot."

   "So why not just say it?" Nate genuinely didn't understand.

   "I did!"

    "Just without saying it." Ted nearly fell off his chair to ensure he hit the ball. "Which is a-okay, Soufflé. I mean, Empire Strikes Back is over two hours hours long. You watched that for him."

   "I had to watch the first one, too. So that I wouldn't get confused."

    "Nearly five hours of sci-fi consumed by someone whose favourite movie is about a stolen head of cabbage. That's love." Beard shrugged, giving Nate a stern look.

    He understood that the man was confused, but the last thing Beard wanted was for Ada to think that her love language, one that Roy was clearly familiar with and open to, was unreadable. That it grated on the ears. That it made no sense.

   And maybe it didn't make sense. Why didn't she just say I love you, too and call it a night? Why watch a movie she hated (her intention had been to casually reference it a bunch of times until Roy thought he was living in an alternate universe) instead of taking the easier route? Why didn't she make it all simple and clear?

    Beard didn't know. Because it wasn't for him to know. And it wasn't for Nate to work out, either.

    Her love was Roy's.

    And if Roy knew, then that was all that mattered.

    "It was actually closer to seven hours long. I had to figure out how the trilogy ended, you get me?"

    "Wow." Ted blinked. "Yeah, you must adore that brunette Oscar the Grouch."

    She rolled her eyes, but there was a light smile on her face as she perched herself on the window sill.

    "Where we at, Soufflé?"

    Her answer required no thought, "Four hundred and thirty nine, four hundred and forty, four hundred and forty one--"

    "Higgins, look alive!" Ted suddenly bellowed, halting the game to launch the ball over at a stunned Leslie Higgins.

    "Oh!" The older man blinked, frowning along with everyone else when his reflexes failed him. "Sorry. Just wanted to introduce you to Dr. Sharon Fieldstone. She's gonna be looking after Dani."

    Ada slid off her mounted seat and stuck her hand out to shake. "Hey, thanks for doing this. Dani's fucking amazing and if he stopped playing then I think I'd just kill myself, you know? And in a super dramatic way, like that old man who lived in the council house across the road."

     Sharon eyes narrowed, firmly shaking the young woman's hand. "Ada Tartt."

   "Apparently, yeah."

  "My niece is a fan. She did her journalism exam on a piece about you."

    "Oh, yeah?" Ada slipped her hand inside the pocket of her navy trackies, shifting on her feet. "Fun piece or sad piece?"

    "It was raw."

     "Ah. So depressing." She snorted. "If I could drink, I'd say let's go get some cocktails and cry over it."

    "But, you don't cry, either." Nate frowned, leaning his back against the wall behind him.

    Sharon's eyes narrowed even more.

    "That's Nathan." Higgins introduced. "You know Ada, obviously. That's Coach Beard. And that there is Ted Lasso."

    Ted grinned at the mention of his name, practically launching his body from his chair.

   "Oh, you don't need to stand." The psychologist shook her head, voice incredibly professional.

    Ted waved her off. "But it makes it a lot easier to do this!" And then he was dancing, arms over his head as he twirled around in a circle. Beard beatboxed in the background. "It's nice to meet you! It's nice to meet you! Consider this song our way to greet you! Hey!"

    Ada pursed her lips and slowly sat back down as an uncomfortable silence filled the room.

    "So I understand that Dani has developed a case of the yips?" Sharon spoke, hoping to gain some background so that she could leave and get to work.

    "Eek!" Ted and Beard simultaneously winced.

   The sound was incredibly high pitched and came off very childish, certainly unbecoming of two men who made careers out of their ability to lead and discipline.

  Ada watched as Sharon's eyes fluttered in disbelief. "Okay, that's three weird things in a row. What's going on here?"

    "Oh!" Nate nodded. "Ada told her old boyfriend that she loves him without actually saying it and then he let her call him Darth Vader in bed."

    Ada nodded in confirmation when Higgins quickly turned to face her.

   "We're very happy for her," Ted grinned before pausing. "Uh, because of the love. Not her weird thing with deep voices. That actually makes me uncomfortable."

    Sharon blinked. "I meant about the yips."

    "Eeek!"

     Higgins shrugged sheepishly when the woman turned to him, clearly looking for a logical explanation. Was this an act? Were they inebriated? Was there something in the air other than the unbearable stench wafting in from the locker room?

    Ted explained what he could. "Well, doc, we don't like using that word around here."

    "Why?"

     "Um," He glanced around the office and was stunned to find that everyone was looking at him rather expectantly. Well, expect Ada, who seemed rather amused. "Why are ya'll looking at me? It's those two," He gestured to the former model and his best friend. "That always know everyth--okay, fine, alright. I'll go. Well, doc--"

   "Doctor." She corrected sternly.

    Ada and Beard exchanged a wide eyed look. They weren't sure whether the environment was becoming hostile or not.

   Personally, Ada respected that Sharon's boundaries were clear. To be a woman with a doctorate degree was to constantly be undermined. No doubt she thought that was what Ted was doing. But Ada knew her dear friend like the back of her own hand, and was therefore weary about this whole situation.

    "Right, yes, of course, sorry!" Ted raised an apologetic hand, not wanting to offend. "Doctor. Um, it's a superstition."

    "I see." Sharon looked unimpressed despite the small smile on her fact. "Well, the yips--" she pursed her lips when that earned another round of winces. "Are not a superstition. They are a mental condition, one that can be fixed with discipline, not denial."

    "So, then, you're pretty confident that you can help us out with Dani?"

    Another look between Beard and Ada, this one apprehensive. That clearly wasn't the right thing to say to Dr. Sharon.

    "Are you good at your job?"

      Ted hesitated, eyes darting over to the young woman in the room. "I mean--"

    "Don't worry about her. She's good at her job. And she clearly knows she is." Sharon made for the desk. "Put all bullshit humility aside and be honest with me. Are you good at your job, yes or no?"

    "Yes." He nodded after yet another moment of hesitation.

    Ted Lasso didn't know how or when to give himself credit. Everyone in the room knew that, and it didn't matter if they'd known him since college or if they met him five minutes ago. The man was humble to a point where it was considered a flaw. Modest in a way that pained to witness. Encouraging of others but unappreciative of himself.

    "I believe you," The psychologist nodded. Her voice was now gentle, and the nod she gave him was gentler still. "Well, as good as you are at your job, I'm twice as good at mine."

     Another deafening silence.

    And then, a reserved "We're very lucky to have you," from Ted.

    Beard stiffened when the doctor briefly glanced in his direction. "Thank you for coming here!"

    "Cheers." Ada nodded. "Sorry I told them not to hire you."

    She slowly nodded in what they could only assume was mild forgiveness. "Right, so, where should I be conducting my sessions?"

    "Why don't I set you up in my office?" Higgins generously offered, always one to make new people feel welcome.

   "Great." Sharon clapped. "Nice meeting all of you and, uh, sorry to have interrupted your game." She eyed the paper ball by her foot. "What's your record?"

    "Oh, one thousand, two hundred and thirty six." Nate cheesed proudly.

    The woman stared at him from her place by the door. And then she looked to Ted and Beard. And finally to Ada Tartt, who was lazily tossing a marker in the air and catching it.

She had to wonder if these four coaches ever worked. And as an avid football fan, Sharon really hoped they did.

    "Impressive."

    "Ain't it just?" Ted smiled, pointing over to Ada. "Our little Soufflé can count mid conversation. Got a little timer in the back of her head and everything!"

    Sharon shot the girl a curious look before eventually taking her leave. And a few hours later, she shot her that same look again.

Sharon had just wrapped up her session with Dani Rojas, and was hoping to relish in the fruit of the labours. More than that, she was hoping to see Dani relish in the fruit. To see him running across that pitch and scoring goals would bring her more than enough satisfaction.

All the woman ever wanted to do was help.

So maybe it was a sign that she found Ada Tartt sat just above the stands, perched on the railing that looked down on Section E. She was making hand gestures at Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo, speaking to them in some sort of made up code; it appeared to be a mix of a foreign sign language dialect and morse code.

Ada sensed the doctor's presence and turned to face her. "Hey." She gestured to the pitch. "Me and Colin convinced Isaac that all humans are born knowing how to speak in sign language, and now we're just adding things to constantly confuse him."

"Right," Sharon plastered on her most believable smile. She went to say something else, but was interrupted by an accented chanting.

"Dani Rojas! Dani Rojas! Dani Rojas!"

"No way!" Ada gaped, watching as the striker ran out onto the pitch with the enthusiasm and agility of a newborn panther. "How did you do that?"

Sharon tilted her head. "It's my job."

"Fuck. That must feel amazing, right?" She turned to look at her after blowing Dani many a kiss. "Like, helping people and everything. Has to be gratifying."

"We can talk about it sometime, if you're free. My door is always open."

"Right." Ada snorted "You're not gonna therapist trap me, okay? I'll sit down in your office, you'll make me think we're having a good conversation, and then you'll tell me something stupid. Like, I don't know, the reason I can't tell me boyfriend that I love him in a normal way is because, like, me dad never said it to me mum. Or some stupid shit like that."

Sharon rose an eyebrow. "Fine, no office. Why don't we go out for drinks? I'm not your therapist."

"I don't drink."

(Sharon knew that.)

"Right, yes, sorry," She nodded, an apologetic tone of voice sweetening her words. "You said that earlier, yes. And I read about it. Are you an alcoholic?"

"Just don't like the taste." Ada shrugged and turned her focus back on the pitch. "I don't have a problem or anything."

The girl watched as Dani took to the corner of the pitch, setting the ball down and taking a deep breath once there. He lightly dribbled it between his feet, as if adjusting to the feel of it. Reacquainting with his oldest and closest friend.

Ted glanced up at her from the sidelines, and raised his hands to show that his fingers were crossed. Beard and Nate quickly mimicked him, obviously telling her to do the same.

She heeded, because why not?

And cheers exploded from her mouth when Dani shot and scored. She grinned ecstatically, uncrossing her fingers so that she could clap her hands.

"Ada!" Colin called up, gesturing for her to join in on the team's celebration. "Come on!"

She shot him a quick nod and hopped off the railing, but Sharon, who had been watching her react to the proclaimed miracle, was now stood in front of her.

"I think you do have a problem." She told her gently.

Ada blinked. "Well, I know I don't, so."

"Not with drinking, no." The psychologist shook her head. "You were young and you partied hard and then you grew sick of it. That's not a problem." Her tone was light, but she wasn't here to sugarcoat. "Your issue is your fear. You're afraid of what would happen if you did have a problem. Your relationship with alcohol is unhealthy not because of addiction, but because you're scared of it."

"Better not dress up as a bottle of Guinness for Halloween, then, Doctor Sharon. Me heart wouldn't take it." She said blandly, eyes darting over to the door. The door that would take her down to the pitch, where her friends were. Where Beard and Nate were. And Ted. "I just don't like the taste."

"What does it remind you of?"

"Piss."

"Sorry," Sharon waved a hand, rephrasing her question. "Who does it remind you of?"

Ada stiffened. And she watched as the woman gave her a small nod before taking her leave.

"Did I just get fucking therapist trapped outdoors?"

✸

"There's this quote that people are always yapping on about. You know, the one about girls always turning out like their mothers and how that's their greatest tragedy." Ada closed her eyes. "I think if I ended up being half the woman me mother is, then I'd forgive the universe for all the bad it's ever done to me."

Peter, a man with hair as white as snow and eyes a wise shade of gunmetal blue, raised a bushy eyebrow at her. "You want to be a woman, Adan?"

She exhaled deeply, popping one eye open to look at him. He was sat to her right, still in Burmese posture, and appeared to be studying her rather intently.

"It's okay if you do, son," The old man raised a hand as he turned to face forward once more. "My grandson is a girl now."

Ada bit a snort, but wasn't given the opportunity to say anything because Stephen, another elderly gentleman who attended these classes as a part of his anger management journey, was walking towards them.

"Adan, your phone is ringing, son." He grit. "It's doing my bloody head in."

"Breathe, Stephen," The meditation coach soothed as he walked by. "Meditation is the art of hearing the soundless sound."

Ada and Peter exchanged an amused look, knowing that the words would do nothing but rile the man up.

"I ain't talking about soundless sound, I'm talking about this." Stephen waved the phone around, glaring at the instructor before then turning back to Ada. "Take it. And cut your hair, son. You look like a smackhead."

"He's a transgender, Stephen. Let him be." Peter sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to spiritually check out.

"First of all," Ada prefaced, scrolling through her phone logs to see who'd called her. "If I was trans, then you'd be referring to me as a she. But I'm not." She glanced up from her screen. "I'm not a boy, either."

"You're one of them liquids." Stephen mused, rubbing at his chin like a philosopher.

"It's called fluid." Peter mumbled.

The girl snorted, pushing herself off the matt. She stretched her legs out and pressed her phone to her cheek, listening as it rang. "Hey," She grinned once he picked up.

"Hey," Roy spoke softly on the other line. "What's going on? Tried ringing you."

"Long day at work so I'm with me lads right now, winding down and that."

He scrunched his nose in amusement and briefly glanced over his shoulder. The clique of old women were sat on the couch, trying to figure out the television. "Yeah, no, I'm winding down, too."

"Yoga mums." She laughed. "Sorry, how could I forget? Knew you sounded way too happy."

(Roy always sounded that way when on the phone with her.)

"Should be sorry," He nodded. "But you can beg for forgiveness later. I can swing by and wake you up."

"If you're not wearing the mask I bought then don't even bother."

Roy smiled, shoulders shaking slightly. Such a madwoman, his Ada. Completely and utterly insufferable.

He fucking loved her.

"Roy! Hurry up! It's about to start."

"Is that Maureen?" Ada cheesed, leaning the back of her head against the wall and looking around the room. Albert was smuggling peanuts into his pockets. Jeffery was helping Paul untangle his limbs. Stephen and was talking Peter's off, intentionally disrupting his peace – because that was who Stephen was. "She's divorced isn't she?"

"Why the fuck do you remember that, eh?"

She ignored him. "Think she'd be into an irritating man with anger issues?"

"Probably not."

"Right, forgot not everyone has the same type as me."

"Fuck off," He rolled his eyes, shooting the women a quick thumbs up when they called him over again. "Look, I have to go, but I'll see you later."

"Roy," She quickly said before he could hang up, continuing when she heard him give a distracted hum. "I remembered Maureen's name because you mentioned it on our first date. And the fact that she was divorced."

Ada bit at her fingernail as she tried to word everything probably. She didn't want it to sound dramatic or rehearsed. Didn't want to lose the essence of her first confession; the lightness of it, and how her intention had been to make him laugh and to let him know.

Know that she loved him, too.

"Thought you said that wasn't a date," He grinned, lost in her tone of voice. It was soft and beautiful and all things good. She sounded like she never wanted to hang up.

(Ada always sounded that way when on the phone with him.)

"Roy, I love you."

He bit his lip and turned to face the opposite wall, where a painting hung. It was as if his body knew that he needed to focus on something. Anything, really, or else he'd be too dizzy to watch television with the women waving him over.

"I know." Roy told her. "I do, too."

"Good."

"Good."

"Bad!" Stephen was yelling as Jeffery switched the channel on the communal television. "Fucking turn it off, I hate this absolute shite!"

"I have to go," Ada laughed, unable to get rid of her smile. It was fucking pathetic, and she couldn't even blame it on the temper tantrum taking place before her. She knew it was all of because of the man she was talking to.

She really fucking loved him.

"Yeah, bye, babe."

Peter approached her as soon as she hung up the phone. "Adan, that boy on the tv looks just like you, lad." He pointed over to the screen. Jeffery was sat directly in front of it, and Stephen was begrudgingly watching as well.

She went to laugh at the whole thing, and laugh at how the instructor could do nothing but sigh (after all, both men were still in a meditating position, so he couldn't really do much about it), but her amusement froze and died when she caught on to what Peter was referring to.

The boy who looked just like her.

Her twin brother, Jamie.

Or rather, The footballing tart, Jamie, as the show host had dubbed him.

"Cut your hair, Adan, and you'd be his twin brother."

⚽️: VOTE ON CHAPTERS, CHEERS!!! You ghost readers are to me what John is to Ada Tartt.

⚽️: Okay, so, I pulled an all nighter and all dayer writing this because the chapter that I'd been working on for days was actually the episode two chapter. Didn't want to get into Jamie's career downfall here because that's pretty much the main plot of chapter twelve -- which should hopefully be up very soon!

⚽️: We got an I love you! Didn't want it to be a dramatic monologue of a confession because that's just not who my babies are idc. He's like "Fuck. I love you." And she's like "I watched a normal movie for you."

⚽️: ANYWAYS that's all I have to say, I don't know why I always rant in the fucking author's note, nobody should be reading this shit lol