She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter twenty two.

Chapter twenty two,
Smells Like Mean Spirit
YOU CAN'T SAY THAT ANYMORE.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

"WE SHOULD STAY HERE FOREVER." He mused, stopping his browsing of the menu to admire the modest restaurant's surreal sea view. It was night out, and his eyes no longer functioned all that well in the dark, but even the blindest of blind men could see that the waves were showing off beneath the moon's silver spotlight.

They were now a month into their trip, and Marbella was proving itself to be deserving of many heaven-comparing monikers. Granted, the couple had dubbed it paradise before their plane even touched land (It was a three hour trip from London, and they passed the time by exchanging loving whispers and sweet kisses, only ever stopping to admire the glassy shores – Ada got the window seat for the sake of the better view, and Roy got the seat to her left for the very same reason; she watched the seascape, he watched her.)

It was beautiful, Marbella. Rich in culture and generally quite grand. They spent the first week of their stay in a villa by the sea, overlooking the thronged beach, before then moving to Old Town for tamer lodging. Which was not to say that they abandoned the beach aspect of their trip. In fact, the modest property where they now resided was less than ten minutes away from the coast; they walked past bounteous orange trees, and many flower-draped terraces, and gazpacho stands run by the sweet elderly, and aged buildings predating the Renaissance period, just to get there.

   The walk was always worth it.

   This whole trip was, really.

   "We can't stay forever." Ada snorted. "They close at, like, midnight."

   The city was a party hub for many, and it was always teeming with life during the nighttime, so, looking to profit, many restaurants operated in a way that accommodated sporadic appetites. Some even stayed open till dawn, plating and serving dinner. But this establishment, quaint and family run, chose to base their hours on the schedule of regular locals rather than highly exuberant tourists.

   Roy rolled his eyes. "I meant Spain."

   "Oh," She slowly nodded, glancing up from the menu to appraise him. "Well, we can't do that either. I have a twin."

    That garnered another eye roll. She leaned across the table and pressed a slow kiss to his mouth. He softly caressed her sun-reddened cheek. Her hand cupped his working jaw. They both smiled into it.

    It was something they did quite often here, smile. Everything made them grin. The local children who chased them down the street, posing football questions in broken English. Those rare instances where a cloud would hug the sun, granting them shelter from the sweltering heat and a fleeting feel of home. Freshly squeezed orange juice with breakfast, and with lunch, and sometimes even with dinner. The tiny sand crabs which seemed to favour Ada's company. The view from their flat's terrace, which was good for star gazing, and perfect for people watching (they spent their lazy evenings playing a game that the Tartt twins used to love; picking a random person on the street and giving them a backstory – her boyfriend lacked imagination, and he refused to do the funny voices that Jamie always committed to, but it was still fun).

    They kissed a lot more too – which was really saying something because Ada and Roy had always been kissers. But it was different here. Their days were just full of them; kisses under stone arches, kisses in markets, salty kisses on the beach, sweet kisses after ice cream, breathy kisses during sweaty sex (and it truly was sweaty, because their accommodations lacked proper air conditioning), kisses randomly planted on the other's mouth in the middle of a conversation, slow kisses on the balconies of candlelit restaurants.

    "I should probably be the one to order." Ada mumbled against his lips, softly pecking him two more times before sitting back in her seat. "Because, well, me Spanish is way better than yours."

    "The Macarena doesn't count." Her boyfriend grunted, vaguely amused.

     "Roy," She tilted her head and began reciting the lyrics in a dramatically earnest tone. "The only reason you and I are together is because tu cuerpo es pa darle alegría y cosa buena."

    He squinted. "Fuck's that mean?"

   "See?" Ada grinned. "I'm ordering."

    She regretted that decision, and her genetically engrained initiative, as soon as they were done eating. When their plates were cleaned. When their serviettes were crumpled. When their translated bill arrived. Because, according to the tab, what followed their starters (a fresh mixed salad and an ample selection of tapaz), and what preluded dessert (a shared slice of bizocho with a creamy centre), was their agreed upon main course; a shallow pan of crispy, seasoned Paella.

    Paella, with rabbit meat.

    "It-- it tasted. . . like fucking chicken."

      Roy shovelled the last of the cream dessert into his mouth. "Tasted better than chicken, to be fair."

    "I just. . ." Ada quietly sniffled, ignoring him. "You know, I was thinking about getting one as a pet."

     He set his pastry fork down and furrowed his brows. "A rabbit?"

    "A bunny, yeah," She nodded. Her hand reached for his much larger one, and their fingers instinctively interlocked. "We could've gotten one. Raised it together."

    "We don't even live together."

    (We should live together, was what he wanted to say. It was what he'd wanted to say for a while. Since the first time he spent an entire week at her house, which was well over a fucking year ago. But something always kept him from speaking it aloud; whether it be a fear of rejection, or a cruel reluctance, or the wimpish need for her to bring it up first, Roy genuinely didn't know.

   It sometimes felt like they already lived together, though. Nearly all his clothes were stored in her cupboards. His muscle gels and prescribed medications lined her cabinet. The fridge was decorated with pictures of them, and was stocked with the foods that he bought, like fresh produce and a variation of proteins. He was always over there, at her house – sometimes when she herself wasn't home. And it was weird or invasive. Because she'd given him a key when they first got together.

   It was everything.

   He couldn't help but want more.

   Roy wanted the two of them to share a home. He wanted for them to kiss in newly installed doorways, and for them to fuck on furniture that he helped pick out. He wanted that bookshelf, the one he built her all those months ago, the one currently collecting dust at his own place, to be filled with her strange novels and knickknacks. He wanted for his parcels to arrive at their shared doorstep, and for Ada to confuse his post for hers. He wanted that old picture of him and his sister to sit on the mantle, propped up beside a picture from his girlfriend's own childhood. He wanted to build a swing set in the back garden – for his niece, and for the many kids that Ada Tartt managed to attract like some sort of maternal beacon.)

     Ada didn't seem to hear him. "But I can't get a bunny now. I'd look at it and just feel so guilty."

     "Right," Roy licked his teeth and used his free hand, the one not intertwined with hers, to scratch at his brow. "Well, you wanted to order."

      "Because I'm the smart one." She quickly defended, sitting up straighter.

    "Are you?"

    "Yes," Her tone was indignant. "I am."

    "What makes you so smart?"

      Ada blinked. "What, you mean, other than the fact that I'm was the youngest strategist to ever coach in the Premier League? And the fact that I can memorise sequences with minimal effort? And the fact that I never really lose at anything?"

     "Yeah," Roy nodded, biting back a smile. He would never admit it out loud, but he loved it when she proved deserving of her surname. "Other than all that."

    "Well, I wouldn't move in with you."

      Silence.

      He stiffened, and felt his gaze sharpen into an affronted glare. "Well, I wouldn't even ask to fucking move in together."

     Ada stared at him, taking in the cold, vulnerable look on his face. And then she took in the black suit and black hair and black eyes. So dark, her boyfriend. He looked like the night. The patrons behind him seemed to melt away, leaving nought but Roy Kent and the restless sea in her field of vision; two powerhouses, both equally beautiful and prone to rage.

"And that's why you're the dumb one."

    Again, silence.

    Roy squinted.

    Ada playfully smirked.

    ("We don't even live together," that was what he instinctively pointed out after she mentioned the hypothetical pet rabbit. And she didn't seem to hear him, but she did. And what was more, Ada heard the underlining yearning. The longing. The desire, dipped in love and then left out to dry in the humid air of hesitation.  

    She felt it too, that fervid craving for more. Always, and in every way. Since she was a little girl who used to beg for things; things like recognition, and praise, and love. Ada always wanted more and more. But that was never really the case with this relationship and its steady, albeit thrillingly climactic, pace. And that was because Ada had always assumed that the process of moving in together was a simple thing. An inevitable milestone. A given. That it was a natural advancement, a bit like the Ice Age; people leaving the cold and slowly heading towards the sheltering warmth.

In this case, the Ice Age was being alone. And her house was the shelter. And their love was that warmth. And so, too, were their warm conversations. And the warm bed that they shared. And the way he entered her warm body with a fiery heat. In Ada's mind, she and Roy were already living together.

To her, it was just an unspoken matter.

   She didn't think it was supposed to be a thing – after all, Simon and Georgie had never really talked about him taking up permanent residence in their home. He just. . . never left. Ada thought that was how it worked. Roy's stuff was already there. He was already there. She figured he would just stay forever. But her boyfriend was always uncertain; he was never sure what things meant, he always guessed what she already knew, he always fucking doubted.

    Ada didn't like that he experienced bouts of doubt, but she was always willing to assure him -- so long as his committed trust preceded his internal skepticism. So long as he believed in them. So long as he believed in their unwavering love. So long as he trusted that she was in this.)

   "Are we moving in together?" He asked, trying to make sense of what her puzzling words actually meant. It was so like her to confuse him, to rile him up. And it was so like her to get under his skin with the pure intention of making towards his thumping heart – like it was a fun little shortcut.

    "I mean, it's inevitable, innit?" Ada shrugged, reaching out and swiping some of the leftover cream from the dessert plate. She casually popped her finger in her mouth and licked the sweetness off. "We'll find a house. We'll make it our own. We'll live there, we'll die there."

   Roy slowly shook his head, and he took a moment to appraise her. The sunkissed hair, and the glowing complexion, and the dawning smirtle. The airy mannerisms and carefree perceptions. She was the human embodiment of daylight. And she managed to shine even on this minimally lit terrace.

He loved her so much.

Ada glanced up from the patterned tablecloth when her boyfriend started speaking again, when he murmured the words that would change everything. The whole thing was short and quiet, but she heard it loud and clear. A weighty whisper in the night, unsteady and yet far too sure. Like he didn't mean to speak the words, but like he had no choice but to, because they'd already travelled from the forefront of his mind to the tip of his tongue.

    Four words.

    He'd all but whispered them.

    She gave no answer.

    (A long stretch of silence.)

Three more words, safe words.

    Ada said nothing back.

✷

PRESENT DAY

Heathrow Airport was known for being the most crowded airport in Europe, and it was as if the universe wanted Ada Tartt to be firmly aware of that fact. The building was filled to the brim, just a swarming mass of luggage-wheeling feet draggers; Elders and youths, arrivers and departers, weeping relatives and laughing rejoicers.

A congested blur in her eyes.

Still, the walnut mist was easy to spot.

"Hey!" Ada laughed, carelessly dropping her duffle bag and launching herself into her brother's open arms. He'd gotten buffer and broader over the summer, no doubt having trained alongside Isaac McAdoo, and his embrace was now as strong as it was loving.

(Jamie, too, noticed the subtle changes in his other half. She was always naturally tanned, but the month and a half abroad had bronzed her up quite nicely. Her hair was also a touch lighter, now well and truly matching his own box-dyed colour, and the strands nearly brushed her shoulders in length.)

     Ada squeezed his neck and pressed a dozen quick kisses to his cheek. He truly was home to her, and the weeks spent apart served as a reminder of that fact. They tried keeping in contact as much as possible, through texts and voice memos and the occasional phone call, but it was hard when they were both adults with their own summer plans – plus, no technological method of communication really compared to being in one another's actual company.

Jamie rocked her. "A proper tan, eh?"

"They never tell you it's that hot in fucking Germany," She laughed into his shoulder. "Got roasted on those sidelines."

"Worth it, right?"

They pulled apart, and she shot him an ecstatic grin. "Three-nil."

And Ada wished she could take all the credit, but the truth was that those girls, the ones who'd been recruited to the Arsenal training program for their skill and resilience, had worked their arses off to secure that trophy. She only got to work with them for the last two weeks of the month-long program (she'd actually given up the position of coach in order to spend the summer with her boyfriend, but then impulsively flew out just in time to get them prepped for their match against Germany's VfL Wolfsburg rookies), and had quickly grown fond of all of them.

They'd reminded Ada of her past self.

Hungry and proud, striving for more.

They trained hard under her zealous eye and sharp whistle. They sweat and bled on that practice field. They played smart on match day, dominating that pitch like it was nothing. They deservingly won, and they celebrated their victory with all the modesty in the fucking world.

Roy even flew out to watch.

(He congratulated the team before then pulling her aside. She hugged him so very tightly, not having seen him since their trip was cut short. He hesitantly kissed her on the mouth. She found herself kissing him back. He said that he missed her. She led him to her hotel room, where they fucked until they couldn't anymore; until he was too empty and she was too full, until her tummy went from a fluttering mess to a sticky one, until his bottom lip was ruined, until both their hips hurt from repeatedly knocking against each other.)

"Where's Roy?" Jamie asked, peering over her shoulder in an attempt to spot the notorious grump.

"Left a few days before." Ada reached down for her duffle bag. Her brother was faster, throwing it over his own shoulder. She linked their arms together and rested her temple against his cheekbone as they headed towards the exit.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"Coaches don't leave until after the girls do." She mumbled, eyes darting around the airport in search of someone.

"Hmm. Well, listen, Dani and I tried renting an ice cream van over the summer--" Jamie noted her distracted state. "What are you looking for?"

"Who." She corrected. And then she pointed in a far off direction. "Him."

Ted Lasso, with slumped shoulders and a heavy heart, glanced up from his phone at the sound of two familiar voices. He'd been texting his ex-wife, letting her know that Henry had safely boarded his plane and that he should be due home in the next thirteen hours. (It was an emotional parting, the one with his son; full of hugs and sad smiles and promises of another visit. Ted was almost reluctant to let him go. The final glance that Henry threw over his shoulder didn't make it any easier. They both wished for more time.)

   The last thing Ted expected after that glum goodbye was a chipper hello. He didn't think that letting one kid go would bring about the arrival of two more.

The Tartt twins were approaching him, almost identical now that they shared a hair colour as well as features. But physicality and confident struts aside, they both appeared to him quite differently. And that must have been because they were dressed quite differently. Jamie was wearing an orange jumper, a black gilet, black shorts, and an orange belt bag. He was also donning an assortment of gold jewellery; rings, a bracelet, chains. His twin sister was far more understated, dressed in a simple red baby tee and a khaki mini skirt.

They were briefly stopped by two fans, asking for pictures and autographs, before they continued making their way over.

"Alright?" Ada cheesed, pulling him into a tender hug as soon as she was close enough. "Remembered you saying that you'd be here today."

Ted softly rubbed her back. "Well, now I feel like a poopoo-face, because I can't remember you saying the same."

(She didn't fault him, because her original flight home had been scheduled for two days ago. And it was supposed to be bringing her over from Spain. Under the weighty amalgamation of intense turmoil, and impromptu travelling, and vigorous coaching, Ada must've forgotten to update him on that little change.)

"Henry was sad he didn't get to see you." The man said as they pulled apart, making sure to bring his star player into a warm side-hug. "Hey, Jamie."

  "Alright, Coach?" The striker nodded.

The two had actually seen each other quite a bit over the summer, which was a rare enough thing for a footballer and his coach to do during the offseason. What started off as Ted Lasso trying to liven up his son's trip with a visit from Jamie Tartt (Henry was a huge fan) slowly turned into Jamie accompanying them on little excursions whenever he was free. It was only a handful of times, really, but it undoubtedly added a layer to their dynamic – nothing said love quite like going to the zoo and giving all the animals an obscure backstory (and a funny voice to go with it).

"I'll see the kid next time." Ada promised, smiling a small smile. "He'll be back soon, innit? His old man lives here."

"Yeah. . ." Ted shakily grinned.

Those words echoed around his head as he accepted Jamie Tartt's offer of a ride to work, and they echoed as he followed the chattering twins outside the airport. The words bounced off the walls of his pulsing cranium as he slid into the backseat, and then travelled down the pit of his swirling stomach as the car roared to life.

  "His old man lives here."

Ted lives here.

Why did he still live here?

He'd already called and asked Doctor Sharon that same question a few hours ago, when he was done getting himself ready for the day (his jacket zipped, his boss' biscuits boxed, his son prepped to leave him), and her response had been an unsatisfying one; "You don't quit things."

And despite his natural disdain for simple answers, Ted supposed she was right. After all, he did swear that he would lead Richmond AFC to the finish line of the Premier League. Wedding vows of forever aside, he never once broke an oath. And he didn't plan on breaking this one – even if every newspaper in the country was sure that the greyhounds would end up finishing last this season.

It must have been those same articles that now had Rebecca Welton bothered.

"Morning, Bex!" Ada cheered as she walked into the woman's office. Her duffle bag was back on her shoulder, having been swiped from Jamie when he made towards the locker room (she wasn't in the mood to go in there yet), and she was still dressed in her travel clothes.

    Ted was speaking to the receptionist posted just outside, asking her about her summer holidays and her daughters.

"Trouble!" Rebecca smiled, pushing aside her indignant ire for a moment. "Wow, you're glowing! How was Spain?"

"Yeah, no, good." She nodded, adjusting the strap of her luggage. "So was Germany. Uh, I did tell you about that, right?"

Rebecca tilted her head. "I thought you gave the position to someone else so that you could do Marbella with Roy?" She knew the trip wasn't cancelled, because Ada had sent her and Keeley a few snapshots at the start of the summer. And Rebecca also saw Roy enter the locker room a few minutes ago, looking quite tan – or, well, as tan as the fair skinned, sun loathing Roy Kent allowed himself to be.

    "I did both." Ada shrugged, walking further into the room. "Which was exactly what Mr. and Mrs. McCallister said when the dibble asked if they left their son in Chicago or New York." She gave Rebecca a warm hug, taking a moment to burrow her face in the woman's shoulder, before then moving to hug Higgins as well.

    Leslie put his phone down to happily return the embrace, and found himself exchanging a look with his boss. They tossed vague facial expressions at each other from over Ada's shoulder, only halting when the girl took a step back.

    All three of them glanced over at the door when an accented voice spoke up.

    "Hey, y'all."

    Higgins frowned, noting the man's shadowed demeanour. "Morning, Ted."

   "No rhyming salutation?" Rebecca asked, equally concerned. "Something wrong?"

     "Way to notice, Amos Otis." Ted quietly hummed. "Yeah, Henry went back to Kansas this morning." He handed Rebecca the pink box of shortbread, accepting her murmuring gratitude with a small smile. "Dropped him off at the airport a little bit ago. Now he's up in a plane, ten thousand feet in the sky."

    Ada noticed Rebecca and Higgins' confused looks and decided to offer them both some insight. "Yeah, I told him planes can only go up ten thousand feet." She softly nudged Ted. "They actually average about thirty three thousand."

    "What?" He blinked.

     "But I could be wrong." She hastily backtracked, fiddling with the strap of her duffle bag. "I've never actually been on an American plane. I bet they travel lower because the. . . engines run on grease rather than mineral oils."

     "Huh." Ted mumbled before focusing back on the topic at hand. "Well, anyways, I'm down here on Earth, checking my phone every ten minutes and watching his plane get further and further away."

    Rebecca shot him a sympathetic look.

    "That's very sad." Ada sighed, reaching into the outer pocket of her bag and pulling out a gold medal – one of the many honours gifted to her after the recent win. She held it out to him. "Here, an award for. . . being very sad."

    "Oh, wow." He took it into his hand and observed it for a moment. "This is nice."

    "Real gold."

     Higgins choked.

     "Well, hey, you ain't gotta pay me to shut up, Soufflé." Ted joked before glancing around the room. "And I didn't mean to come in here and tinkle on y'alls toenails."

     Ada waved a reassuring hand. "Bex looked like before you got here."

     "Right, well," Rebecca rolled her eyes and gestured to the papers littering her pristine desk. "Apparently everyone alive has picked Richmond to finish in twentieth place this season."

     "Except the Daily Mirror," Higgins pointed out. "Which actually has us finishing twentyelf."

    Ada tilted her head. "Is that a dig against Colin and his cute little elf ears?"

    "No, nothing like that. Just an adorable but devastating typo." Leslie sighed.

    Ted was eyeing the headlines piled up before him. "Okay, well, you know what? I predict that all their predictions ain't gonna come true." He offered a bland shrug. "So it looks like we got ourselves a prediction Mexican standoff -- or as they call them in Mexico, a prediction standoff."

     Ada nodded in agreement. "Yeah, see, I don't believe in jinxing, but wouldn't it be hilarious if we won just because everyone said we wouldn't?" She returned Ted's wide grin and reached over to high five him.

   Rebecca didn't seem to match them in optimism. "Well, the worst part is that they've picked Rupert to finish in the top four."

    "Rupert's gonna play this year?" Ted theatrically gasped. He turned to his fellow coach. "If your boyfriend was too old for the pitch then I am mighty concerned about Mr. Welton's head, shoulders, knees, and toes."

     Ada shot him a small smile. "Rupert's not playing. She means West Ham."

     "Precisely." Rebecca nodded, failing to notice that the girl was playfully mocking her. "Everyone thinks he's better than us."

     "They." Ted corrected. "Everyone thinks they are better than us."

     "God, this is like when me yoga instructor's kid came out as nonbinary and Peter had to give back all the peanuts." Ada snorted. They all shot her a look. "Oh, yeah, no, you had to be there."

    "I'm not missing anymore sessions." Higgins vowed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

    Rebecca groaned. "So, what's the plan? How are we going to beat him?"

    "Them." Ted patiently emended.

    "Exactly." She nodded.

     "Feels like we've gone backwards." Ada couldn't help but point out. "Rebecca's obsessing over her ex-husband, Ted misses his son, I'm. . . "

     Ted tilted his head. "You're. . . ?"

     "I don't really know."

      "Ada's right." Higgins absentmindedly mused. "We need change. This might be a good time to update our roster. Put some more firepower in the team."

     "Brilliant! Let's put some feelers out, shall we?" Rebecca clapped before looking to the two coaches. "Thoughts?"

     "I'd say Diego Maradona, but he's, like, proper dead, isn't he?" Ada rubbed a hand over her face. "And I'd say Zava, but that's something that Dani and I wish for every 11:11 and I don't want to jinx it."

    "Thought you didn't believe in jinxing." Leslie gently pointed out, garnering nought but a defensive shrug.

    "Ted?" Rebecca then prompted, wishing to hear from the team manager as well.

    "Uh, well," The man stammered. "I know Roy and Coach Beard are working on some new tactics. And Soufflé is always cooking something up in that beautiful head of hers." He ruffled her growing hair. "And, uh, you know, the fellas we got are already gelling real nice."

     "Brilliant lads." Ada nodded.

     Ted agreed wholeheartedly. "Yeah, they really are, ain't they? I think we're gonna do fine this season."

   "Ted, this team doing just fine is a far cry from you telling me we're going to win the whole fucking thing." Rebecca gaped.

    "Wow." Higgins blinked.

   Ted's eyes widened. "Whoa, wait, did I really say that?"

     "Yes, you did." Rebecca's hands were firmly on her hips, and she used her head to gesture towards the couch. "Over there, after the Man City loss. Before you blasted half a liter of Pellegrino in my face."

    "Please tell me that isn't a euphemism." Ada grimaced, earning a chiding nudge.

     Rebecca ignored her. "That is the Ted Lasso I want coaching my team this season, the one who is willing to fight." She shot him a look. "Understood?"

   "Yes, ma'am." Ted nodded. "You watch, from now on, I'll be floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. Except I won't die immediately after using my stinger. I plan to float and sting for the entirety of the whole season."

    "Stinger? Is that a euphemism?"

    "What?" Higgins frowned.

     Ada sighed. "I watched a lot of Sex and the City on the flight back. All words and phrases sound like innuendos to me."

   Rebecca shot her a mildly concerned look as she picked up her purse and threw on her coat. The former model looked beautiful, she always did, but something about her painted an image of exhaustion; the dark under-eye circles, the rocking of the heels. No doubt it was from all the travelling, and the fact that she just came back from coaching a team of clueless, albeit talented, beginners. "Are you tired?"

     The girl stiffened. "No."

    "Well, how about you join me, Keeley, and London for lunch? Wind down after your travels?" She warmly suggested.

   (After finding out that her cousin was a complete and total nut job, as per Sam Obisanya's recounting of a meeting gone significantly awry, London decided not to seek financial assistance from family. In fact, she'd decided to momentarily scrap the plan of starting up her own company, choosing instead to resume her work as a modelling manager.

    But then Keeley Jones proposed

That is, she proposed that they explore the idea of starting a joined venture. An enterprise that represented both their areas of expertise. A company which specialised in both management and public relations. A home that had their individual passions serving as its cemented foundation, a home that was grounded in their work; connecting offices, workplace furniture that they picked out together, vases full of flowers, pretty pink doorways.

And so KJLA was born. Ada had yet to visit the grounds, but she'd been thoroughly updated on the fabrication process. London had asked her opinion on wallpaper patterns, Keeley had called to complain about the hard CFO named Barbara. She definitely planned on visiting soon, but she was fresh off a plane and duty bound.)

   "You just said you really wanted us to win," Ada reminded her in an amused tone of voice. "And now you're asking me to skive off the first training session of the season."

    Rebecca paused. "You're right." She brushed past the trio, pressing a kiss to Ada's forehead as she did so. "Make me proud. I'll let them know you say hi."

    "Oh, me too!" Ted cheesed. "Tell 'em I say howdy and that Higgins says. . ."

      Leslie grew flustered under pressure, and said the first that came to mind; a deep, awkward, "Yo!"

Rebecca shot the men a disappointed, but not necessarily surprised, look as she took her leave.

"You say yo?" Ted wondered once it was just the three of them.

Higgins grimaced, as if disgusted with himself. "I know, it just popped out--"

"That's what she said." Ada snorted.

They turned to her.

She sighed. "Sex and the City."

Ted rubbed her shoulder, "Yeah."

✷

Ada Tartt acknowledged that there was a quicker way to enter the main coaching office. She knew the routes and paths like the back of her hand, and understood that the back door, which stood just across the way from the boot room and right down the hall from the stairwell, was the quickest option. But the problem with the back door was that it meant she would have to walk through the workspace that she'd once shared with Nathan Shelley; the man who had selfishly up and left this team, this family, so that he could secure the title of West Ham's manager.

She hadn't heard from him since the promotional match against Brentford. He was gone by the time they were done celebrating the pivotal win, having stomped off the dogtrack as soon as the final goal was scored. A huge part of her was angry; completely enraged that he would let pride and ego take precedence, that he would hurt Ted Lasso in his quest for glory, that he would disappear without saying goodbye or trying for amends.

A bigger part of her was hurt. Wounded by the fact that he easily chose another team, that he neglected their friendship, that he disregarded their history – not the rickety bridge which predated her accountability, but the solid vessel which carried months of kinship and inside jokes and tactical debates and television marathons.

He put success first.

And that fucking stung.

And it was the reason she now had to walk through the locker room in order to approach the main coaching office.

"Maybe they're trying to motivate us." Dani Rojas was saying as she entered the room, peering over his captain's shoulder in order to read the long threads of hate comments.

Twitter, and just about every other social media platform, in truth, was currently dominated by members of the figurative "I loathe Richmond AFC" club. The bandwagon effect was extremely prevalent these days, and the smear campaigns and hate crusades were pretty much everywhere.

"Ada!" Sam grinned as soon as he saw her, causing the whole team to turn their heads in her direction. He quickly rose from his seat on the bench and made towards her, pulling the older girl into a sweet embrace. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Sammy." Ada cooed, easily returning his hug. She pinched his earlobe once they pulled apart, and blew the rest of the boys a big kiss. "Missed the rest of you dickholes too."

They called out their own hailings as they continued getting dressed; some were sweet (Dani had let out a, "You look so beautiful, just like the summer!") and some were a little less sweet, although not necessarily cold (Jan Maas posed the genuine question of, "I understand that we all love her, but isn't she the the one who makes us run all those laps? Shouldn't we be sad that she's here right now?").

And then there was Colin Hughes, whose greeting mostly pertained to his own self interest. "Thank God, you're here." He sighed from his perched place on the raised platform. "I had a woman accost me on the street today."

Ada blinked, "Okay. . ."

Did he think she was his guard dog?

"She told me I should fake an injury this season so I wouldn't have to deal with the misery." The Welshman added.

"Did you trip her?"

"No, she was a nun."

Ada gaped. "So what the fuck are you looking to me for?"

"I. . ." He stammered slightly. "Well, I didn't think that would matter to you."

She gaped even wider. "I'm not a fucking heathen, Colin!" That earned her a look of sorry surrender. She rolled her eyes before chancing a glance around the locker room. "It is a bit mad that even God's own servants think we're helpless."

Her words seemed to trigger a chorus of groans and a symphony of nags, breaking the makeshift dam that they'd put up when she first entered.

"Hey, hey, hey, lads!" Jamie pacified as he approached the middle of the room. "Hey, we ain't gonna get relegated because we're together!"

They all paused.

Ada started mentally counting down.

Three, two, one. . .

"And, together, we have me." The striker happily concluded. More groans followed his snooty declaration. His sister brushed past him on her way towards the main office, and she paused to cup his face and kiss his cheeks.

"You're unbelievable."

He smiled, "Thanks."

Ada kissed his face four more times (and momentarily mourned the fact that he wasn't a chubby-cheeked preteen anymore) before making towards her desired destination.

Beard was sat back in his chair, with his feet propped up on the mahogany desk and a book propped open on his lap. His eyes, which had been trained on the printed paragraphs, flickered over to the doorway once Ada made her appearance.

She was looking at Roy, who was stood in front of the whiteboard with his back to them. He was drawing out a play whilst voicing his lowbrow review of the film that Beard had recommended to him.

"Gene Hackman was good. And the drunk geezer. The stuff with the team." Roy capped the marker once he finished sketching out his tactic. "I did have one question, though."

"Hmm." Beard prompted.

"Why the fuck is it called Hoosiers?" The former captain asked, turning around as he did so. But he didn't care to hear the answer, not when his eyes locked onto the willowy arrival; her soft gaze and plump mouth and fidgeting fingers.

(He hadn't seen her since that night in Germany. When he traveled all the way from Marbella to Berlin to watch her coach what was essentially an exhibition game. When he surprised her after the match, congratulating her and the team. When he told her that he missed her. When he kissed her near the tunnels. When she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, kissing him back. When they kissed in the back of the taxi, and in the elevator, and in the quiet corridors. When he took her on the hotel room floor. And then against the wall. And then on the bed. When he asked if this was okay, to which she promised it was perfect.)

Ada shot him a small smile, "Hey."

Roy gave a slow nod, "Hey."

"Hey, what's up, sweetie pie?" Ted grinned as he walked in through the connecting office. He made towards his desk, growing visibly excited as he glanced over at the whiteboard. "Oh! What's the frequency, Roy Kenteth? What you doing, working on some new trick plays?"

"No tricks, just an old classic." Beard explained, having been there when Roy decided on the tactic. "Take it away."

Roy looked to Ada, earning a soft head tilt, before finally focusing back on the board. "Okay, this is the best way for us to play this season. The four four two, which is basically--"

"Four defenders, four in the midfield, and two up front." Ted summarised with a wide grin. "Yeah, I got it."

Ada wiped an imaginary tear.

"God, I'm proud of you." Beard hummed.

"Yeah, Henry and I played a whole bunch of FIFA while he was here." Ted sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Very helpful. You know, we both learned who Maradona was, and I had to explain to my son why cocaine is actually really bad for you."

Ada squinted. "How do you you not know who Maradona is? I'm always fucking talking about him."

"Yeah, but you call him Diego." Ted pointed out. "I figured he was just your pal, you know? Or a sabre-tooth tiger that you befriended."

Her eyes squinted even more.

"Right." Roy cleared his throat when Beard gestured for him to go on. "These little pricks have played four four two since they were kids," He gestured towards the locker room window, where they could see the players snapping towels at each other and giggling like children. "Which means they'll always know what they're supposed to do, and more importantly, where they're supposed to be at every fucking minute, of every fucking game, against every fucking opponent."

Ada saw many faults in the renowned tactic, and she was reasonably iffy about incorporating and cementing it into their play catalogue (the Premier League was very competitive, and the tactic called for few bodies in central midfield, which was a definitive weakness), but she also saw Roy's perspective. The four four two formation was like collagen to a footballer, it provided a bonal framework. It was engraved onto their fibulas, and had been there since they first learned to kick a ball.

Her mind wandered to the childhood games played on parched fields and empty roads and deserted ginnels. The twins and Skinhead Sid would recruit as many kids as they could, which admittedly wasn't very many, and they would all play in Maslov's composition – except, they actually structured themselves into a little two one one formation, to accommodate the lack of players.

    (Jamie always wanted to be on her team, but they were both strikers, and there could only be one forward.)

     "Yeesh." Ted grimaced as he studied the tactic once more. It all seemed far too mechanical for his taste. "Who invented this thing, the Russians?"

    "Yeah." Roy and Beard chorused.

    Ada nodded, now leaning against the doorway. "A lot of people think it was Sir Alf Ramsey, also known as the last man to bring it home," She pat her heart in his honour. "But, yeah, no, Viktor Maslov actually came up with it. . . towards the late fifties, I think."

     They stared at her.

    "I'm sorry I don't know the exact fucking date." She scoffed, confusing their stunned disbelief for critical judgment.

     "You're alright, Soufflé." Ted hummed, biting back a laugh. And then he turned to Roy. "Well, listen, if you think this is a good idea, then I think it's a great one."

     "Okay." Roy hesitantly nodded. "And, uh, look, I, uh, I know I don't have Nate's fucking tactical super-brain, but I do know it's more important to be solid than clever when you're the underdog."

     Ada frowned. She hated that he was selling himself short, the way he always fucking did.

    Ted frowned, too. But it was a different aspect of the wording that struck him. "The underdog, yeah, no, I hear you loud and clear," He sighed, leaning back in his chair and facing his best friend. "Hey, Coach, how come you never hear of an overdog?"

    She tried listening in on the answer, because there was nothing Ada Tartt loved more than collecting random tales and facts, but all she could focus on was him; the dark eyes and broad build and sure stride. She watched him take his leave, watched him enter the connecting office, watched him exit through the back door, watched him take a left down the hall.

    And then she followed, slipping past the diving doorway, dropping her duffle bag off at her desk (and resisting the sudden temptation to glance over at Nate's side of the room) before slipping out the door.

      Ada made a left turn.

     A hand shot out of the nearby supply closet and yanked her in. Their chests slammed together, and it was too dark to see, but she could recognise him by touch alone; rock hard torso, veiny arms, cool hands. And even by smell; he was an amalgamation of masculine scents, like the leather jacket that always lingered on his skin, and the woodsy cologne that he liked to spritz on before leaving the house.

    She also recognised him by taste.

   His lips were on hers before she could make sense of her surroundings. Ada savoured the green apple he had for breakfast, and the spearmint gum he liked to chew when working on a play, and the natural taste of, well. . . him.

She knew to open her mouth as soon as his fingers curled around her jaw, and she knew to welcome his cool tongue as soon as it slipped past the barrier of her lips. Roy's tongue was a skilful slip of a thing, Ada softly sucked and tugged on it. He grunted, and the gruff sound reverberated inside her like an electric echo, nearly rattling her ribs. These were some of her favourite kisses, the ones that were equal parts possessive and devoted; they were heated yet cool, strong yet weak, demanding yet desperate.

    She cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer, biting back a whimper as he forced a knee between her legs. Her skirt was short and her underwear was thin – she could feel every fucking bump and every fucking crevice.

    "I miss you." He murmured.

     "Shhh, I'm right here." She whispered, nipping and kissing his bottom lip. Her fingers left his warm neck and sought out the band of his joggers. "I need you."

     "You need me. . ."

     She felt herself pause. And then she nodded, slowly. "Yeah, like Germany."

    Roy rested his forehead against hers.

    "Hey," She mumbled, pulling his pants down his thick thighs. "Just make me cry really fucking hard, okay?"

   "Okay."

   Ada playfully rolled her eyes.

   He nudged her cheek with his knuckle.

    And then they were kissing again, devouring each others mouths like starved people. He pinched her chin between his fingers. She eagerly palmed him through his tented boxers. His erection was straining against the tightening material, and she started softly caressing it.

Roy felt his entire body heat up as she pressed herself flush against him. He felt her lithe frame mould against his broader one, and couldn't help but moan into her mouth. The sound seemed to spur her on, because Ada was suddenly pulling his briefs down and deftly stroking his shaft.

    She pulled back to study him for a moment; the flushed cheeks, and blown pupils, and wet lips, and slacked jaw. He looked completely debauched.

   The precum, once coating the tip of his cock, was now leaking. Her hands were naturally lubed as she continued to stroke him. "Ready?" He desperately grunted.

Ada stared up at him with doe eyes, and she pumped him some more. "Are you?"

Roy grit his jaw and pulled her skirt down. She whimpered, the tight fabric catching her skin. "That hurt?"

A huff, "Aresehole."

He leaned down and kissed her again. Hungrily. Like he needed her, more than any man has ever needed anything. She tasted of butterscotch, she smelt like sunshine and vanilla. His fingers caught the hem of her shirt, and his mouth left hers in order to pull the garment off. He eyed what was now on display; the tanned midriff, the faint blonde hairs on her stomach, the number nine tattooed onto her hipbone, the bellybutton piercing.

     She wasn't wearing a bra.

     Ada bit back a laugh as he kept staring. She tugged on the bottom of his own shirt, the black and red coaching uniform, and he was quick to pull it over his head. She leaned up slightly and started pressing wet, hot kisses to his throat. Her lips were greedy things, possessively marking his milky flesh. His hands were equally dominating, squeezing at her waist and leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers.

      "Roy." She pathetically whimpered as his hands began to wander. Rough palms roamed the expanse of her naked torso before eventually stopping at her chest. He pinched and caressed and kissed. She cupped the side of his face, "Roy."

    The foreplay was draining.

    His erection was poking at her belly.

    She wanted it poking at her insides.

     "Roy," Her fingers softly traced his stubbled jaw before trailing downwards. They brushed against his thrumming pulse, and gently tugged at his chest hair, and appreciated the divots of his tight abdomen, and ghosted over the sharp contouring of his sex line. And then they found the rigid base. She shot him a look, drumming her fingertips against it. The movement caused his shaft to twitch against her tummy. "Just fuck me."

    He picked her up before she got the full sentence out. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms wrapped his neck. Her bare chest was pressed up against his, and her back was pressed up against the door.

    She burrowed her face beneath his jaw as he slowly entered her. There was a sharp sting that followed his invasion, one which was hot in its intimacy and cold in its thrill. She made sure to pay it forward, that searing pain; her nails sharply dug into his shoulders as he stretched her walls and filled her up. And she bit down on his earlobe as her body began moulding itself into the shape he most desired.

   "Is this okay?" He thought to ask.

    Ada's hips shifted in a silent order, and he started rocking his pelvis against her, quick to pick up the pace. If there was ever any doubt that Roy Kent spent the last three decades of his life as an athlete, then his thrusts were more than enough proof; they were steady, and strong, and angled, and careful. They simultaneously pained and cared for her. He went deeper with each ram, until his tip brushed against her far wall. Until he was completely hilted inside her, like an ornamental dagger.

     Her sweet moans filled the space between them, ringing in his ears, and her nimble fingers coiled in his hair. She used her tethered grip to tilt his head upwards. Their lips met in an open mouthed kiss, sloppy and unfocused. But it was warm.

    Always warm.

    He continued to pump inside her, never faltering. He pulled his head back a bit and appraised her; the closed eyes, and parted lips, and panting mouth, and trembling chin. He felt her thighs quiver slightly as he held her up against the door.

Still, there were no tears.

   He rubbed her smooth leg for a moment, as if coaxing her through the quickening thrusts. His fingers sneakily ended up at her inner thigh, and Roy watched her face as he sought out her throbbing centre.

    "Shit!" Ada gasped as the sensation hit her; the added pressure, the unimaginable pleasure. He pressed down with this expert thumb, and her head fell back against the door. He continued to plunge himself inside her, tip to base, and she felt her tummy flutter rather aggressively.

    "Hey, shhh." He soothed as she started to sniffle. He pressed down even harder with his thumb, and tried thrusting even deeper (which was impossible, seeing as he was already bumping against her cervix). "Hey, hey, shhh."

    Ada gave a shaky nod and tried to catch her breath, but it was far too stimulating. And then he started twitching inside her, leaking like a weak dam, which caused her walls to instinctively tighten. The soft pull, that needy suction – it drove him fucking crazy. It was as if her body didn't want him to ever leave. It had only been a handful of days since Germany, but added onto the two weeks they spent apart, this was the longest they'd ever gone without frequent, periodic sex.

    Roy bit down on her shoulder.

    Ada happily winced.

    She cupped the back of his neck, rubbing the flushed skin with tender care. The loving gesture pushed him to his breaking point. But he refused to lose first, so he started caressing her clit, which he knew pleasured her more than intense force and vigour. Her breath hitched. She whined and whimpered in his ear. And then she pulled him even closer, like she needed him more than any woman has ever needed anything.

     Her toes curled and her back arched just as his stomach started to plummet. They broke at the same time, like sickly fools. She felt his hot spill flood her internal body, and she felt him drip down her thighs. He felt her push off the wall and slump against him entirely. Roy was drained, but worked hard to keep her secure in his hold. Tiny drained sobs wracked her body. Her legs were still wrapped around him. He was still buried deep inside her.

    Ada kissed the crook of his neck.

    So fucking warm.

    "I missed you, too."

    

✷

Ada couldn't say for sure, because she'd only ever coached the beginning of a season once before, and that was when Richmond was playing as a Championship team, but she was quite certain that the players were supposed to be far more. . . enthused after a well-deserved promotion. There were frowns marring their faces, and beads of distressed sweat pooling at their brows. It was sad to see them this way, especially when considering that it was their first day back.

And it was also sad because all they all looked so good, donning their new training uniforms; the palette was dark, mostly consisting of blues and blacks, and the fit was snug to ensure maximum mobility. It was a gift from KJLA, designed by London Abara's fashion brain in association with the team's Bantr sponsorship and their recent Nike deal.

"You know who else picked us to finish last?" Sam Obisanya asked as he and the team sped through the agility ladder drill.

"Please don't say Adele." Colin sighed, having always been a huge fan. He even had tickets to see her live this Spring, a thoughtful birthday gift from Isaac and the Tartt twins. To have her bashing the team would surely make the evening less enjoyable.

Sam shook his head before presenting a crueler answer. "Paddington Bear, it was on his Twitter account."

"Yeah, I saw that." Jamie nodded, wading through slalom poles. "Lads, on a scale of one marmalade sandwich to five marmalade sandwiches, we've got no marmalade sandwiches."

   "What kind of math is that?" Beard murmured, having caught the striker's strange method of measurement.

    "Tartt maths." Ada shrugged from her place between him and Ted, watching as the team halfheartedly committed to today's drills. "It's how I taught him. The only thing that ever stuck, really."

    She would take marmalade sandwiches (or rather, one sandwich split into small pieces, because Ada Tartt was nothing if not waste conscious) and would use them as units of measurement to help her brother with fractions and ratio; the two areas of maths that he struggled with the most. If he did good, he would get to eat the "jammy butty" – which, in hindsight, was a pointless reward seeing as he would end up eating them for supper anyway.

    "Hmm." Beard hummed, leaning back and exchanging a look with Roy.

    Ted didn't catch their conversation, eyes trained on the pathetic pitch. He squinted as Jan Maas and Dani tiredly bumped into each other. "What the heck is going on out here? These guys are more distracted than a bunch of cats playing laser tag."

    "They heard all the pundits saying we suck." Beard easily supplied.

     Roy grunted, "Fuck pundits."

     Ted glanced at Ada from the corner of his eye. She was absentmindedly chewing on her cheek. Her eyes darted over when she felt his expectant stare, "What?"

      "Oh, nothing." The man shrugged. "I was just waiting for you to say something along the lines of I already did."

    "You want me to make a sex joke?"

     Ted immediately shook his head. "No, no, never. But I was waiting for it, y'know? The way a, uh, meteorologist waits for an incoming storm. He doesn't want it to come, and he sure as heck ain't ready, and he really hopes that nothing happens to his neighbour, Mrs Donnoham, because she's just a poor old woman who's living all by her lonesome. But he waits for the storm anyway. Because he knows that it's gonna come, and he knows that it's gonna be pretty darn wet."

    "Gonna come, wet." She snorted.

     He pursed his lips as if physically pained. And then he leaned forward, looking upon his best friend who was to Ada's left. "Hey, Coach, I don't know about you, but kinda feels like it's getting a little stuffy in here, yeah?"

     A slow grin took hold of Beard's face, "Like one of those days you wanna have class outside. . ."

     Ada's eyes darted between the two of them, and she let out an "Ahhh" sound as the realisation slowly struck. They clearly wanted to take this session off the pitch, clear the boys' minds.

    "Fuck are you three on about?" Roy huffed, brows furrowed as he looked over at them. "We are outside."

      Ted offered no explanation, merely giggling as he waved someone over; the young kit man who was stood off to the side, juggling water bottles in an attempt to keep entertained. "Hey, Will!"

     The boy perked up like an alert puppy, immediately looking over. "Yeah?"

     "Come here," Ted softly ordered, to which he immediately heeded.

     Ada wrapped an arm around Will as soon as he made his way over. She gladly accepted his proffered bottle, and ruffled his black curls as she took a cool sip.

    "Is Kenneth around today?" Ted asked.

     "No, yeah, uh," Will nodded, cheeks flushing as Ada tenderly cupped his face and brushed back his brows. "Kenneth, he, uh, lives here."

     Ted snorted, assuming that was an exaggeration. "He does work a lot."

    "No, no, as in he literally lives here." His words garnered curious glances from all four coaches. "At the facility."

    "He does?" Ted frowned, exchanging a perplexed look with Ada. "Since when?"

     "Um, ever since his cult got shut down." Will revealed. He was answering every question thrown his way, and yet each response only led to more questions.

    Beard tilted his head. "He was in a cult?"

    "No, no, no," The boy laughed before his expression grew rather serious. "He was the leader of one."

     Ada slowly nodded. "That explains all those weird surveys." She then turned to Will, shooting him a look that was equal parts curious and concerned. "You didn't join, did you?"

    "No, never." He skittishly assured, as if the mere notion of loose, ephemeral religion terrified him.

     She pressed a smooch to his pudgy cheek. "You're so smart."

    "Good lad." Roy nodded, turning to face the pitch once more. He didn't notice the kit man's electric eyes and wide grin. It was a rather sad trait, his inability to recognise admiration.

     "Well, listen," Ted cleared his throat, still processing the influx of information. "You mind asking Kenneth to bring the team bus around for me?"

     "Oh, yeah, yeah," Will nodded, always eager to please. He shot Ada a quick smile, earning himself yet another kiss, and then rushed to do as bid.

      "Shall we?" Ted asked once the transportation was seen to, eyes darting between Beard and Ada. His question garnered affirming nods, so he blew his whistle three times in order to gain the team's attention. "Alright, fellas! This segment of today's training is now complete! I need everyone to go hop on the bus, we're taking practice on the road. Oh, and last one to the parking lot has to eat a little bug."

   Colin's face turned green at the prospect.

   "Now," The manager continued, holding up an imaginary starting pistol. "Everyone run except Roy, let's go!"

    Ada snorted as they all booked it for the team bus. She knew that Roy was excluded from the race due to the fact that he was naturally averse to group activities, but she couldn't run either because of her leg, so it was actually the both of them who were left out of the sprinting exercise.

    Someone failed to grasp that.

    "Aye!" Jamie snapped as he ran back over, quickly hauling his sister over his shoulder. "You're gonna lose!"

    "I'm not--" Her mouth clamped shut as she suddenly grew dizzy. It was easy to forget that her brother, much like her, earned his kit and his notoriety because of his agile speed. It was also why that stupid, but admittedly catchy, parody had become his chant in recent years; sharks were largely recognised as the fastest fish in the sea, and Jamie Tartt was deemed the fastest man on the pitch.

   The incredible speed with which he was now running, and the fact that she was currently viewing the world upside down, made Ada want to vomit all over his back.

     "JJ," She panted. "You remember when Skinhead stole the keys to Fun World?"

     Jamie could only nod, zooming past many of his lagging teammates. The memory was not something one could easily forget; Skinhead Sid had managed to nick the keys to a local amusement park (presumably from the establishment's electrician, who was a regular at his father's cafe), and had decided to surprise the twins with a late night visit – they indulged in stolen vending machine snacks and rode all the manually operated rides. The trip ended with a chipped tooth, a lost shoe, a bruise in the shape of a bear, and Ada vomiting purple skittles all over her best friend.

     Oh.

     Ada vomiting.

     "Don't!" Jamie yelped.

    

    

✷

     

     

      Ada ended up not vomiting on her twin brother, and she ended up not vomiting on the parking lot floor either, because neither one of the Tartts was made to eat that little bug – the dishonourable honour actually went to sweet Bumbercatch, who'd come in last place. So, in some way, the scare that she gave Jamie actually served as some sort of adrenaline boost.

    Ada liked to see it that way, at least.

   But it was as if the universe wanted her to spew whatever was in her tummy, because as per context clues, Ted Lasso was now suggesting that they climb down a fucking sewer hole.

     "Come on, y'all!" The American waved, an incredibly wide grin on his face.

    Ada hesitated, watching the oblivious team do as told. A hard body bumped into her as she came to a halt. She recognised it almost immediately, but her incredulous gaze was trained on the sewage space.

    "Fuck you stopping for?" Roy huffed. She rolled her eyes, and pushed her elbow back with the intention of nudging him in the gut. He grabbed her by the arm. She pulled away from him and continued her reluctant approach.

    He watched her go.

    "Here we are." Ted nodded once they all made their way over. "Okay, yeah, here we go, guys! Down the hatch," He gestured towards the uncovered manhole.

     "The fuck?" Jamie blinked.

     "Non," Richard immediately shook his head in refusal. He then turned to Ada; the only woman present, and therefore the only one who would understand him. "Please, don't make me do this. I am wearing the new Bois d'Argent."

    She stared. "Is that a diabetes thing?"

    Richard gaped, and he surely would've gone on to berate her had the disgusted groans not distracted him. They turned to see Sam Obisanya, the most obedient of the bunch, climbing down the utility hole.

    Across the road, two maintenance workers couldn't help but watch the peculiar endeavour. After all, it wasn't everyday that a group of men ventured into the sanitary sewage system.

    "Del," The older of the men scoffed, handing his partner a large traffic cone as he gestured towards the scene. "What the fuck is this shit?"

     The younger man, Del, furrowed his brows as he took in the the slightly familiar faces. It was hard to properly make out their features due to the distance, and due the fact that he'd been working on the highway for the last six hours, but the blurry dots slowly began to connect themselves; they were all in uniform, that American's moustache was louder than his country drawl, and that grumpy man had been on his telly since he was a kid. "Is that Roy Kent?"

     "I don't know." The older man mused. He then decided to provoke the line of curiosity. "Hey! Roy Kent, is that you?"

     Roy looked away from the sheaf of wheat blonde, groaning when he caught sight of two strangers gaping at him from across the way. "Get fucked!"

      "Yeah, that's definitely him." Del cackled, pulling out his phone to snap a few pictures. "Fuck, look at Ada Tartt."

     She was wearing a khaki miniskirt and a Richmond jacket, custom hemmed to stop at her hips. She'd zipped it all the way up to shield her chest from the brisk air. The girl was stood between her brother and Richard Montlaur, the three of them engaged in a quiet conversation.

"You look fit, Tartt!"

Ada glanced over. She pursued her lips as soon as she spotted them, and her face remained blank for a solid moment. But then she grinned, somewhat sardonically, and wrapped an arm around Jamie. "He's been working out! Arse like a peach!"

"It's true!" The striker nodded. He moved to turn around and display it, but his sister stopped him from doing so. She bit back a laugh as she nudged him towards the sewer hole. Richard had just gone down, following after Roy, which only left the Tartt twins and Dani Rojas.

"Yeah, come on down, fellas." They heard Ted coax as the last of them hopped off the ladder. "Alright, go on, Jamie."

Ada went after her twin, making sure to flip the maintenance workers off before doing so. She took her first step down the grimy ladder, and immediately regretted not changing into her joggers. And it wasn't like she thought the boys would leer or anything, but the chances of someone glancing up (to check on her descent or to see who'd be climbing down next) were quite high.

She was very confident in her body, and this was actually her most faltering pair of underwear, but they were all like brothers to her, and the idea of them seeing anything made her feel rather uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Roy Kent was stood there.

It was as if he had the ability to detect her dread and sense her discomfort. "Right, Come on," He nodded, holding his arms out towards her.

"I'm okay." Ada rejected.

He rolled his jaw, taking in her rigid posture. She was stood with her legs stuck together, still on the same rung, and whilst he usually found her hardheadedness very attractive, it was now irritating him.

"Ada."

She glanced down at him, "Yeah?"

"Let me help you down."

Ada swallowed thickly as her eyes flickered upwards. Dani was patiently shifting by the hole's entrance, clearly awaiting his turn. "Yeah, okay."

His calloused fingers wrapped her calves, guiding her down one more step, before he then grabbed onto her thighs and essentially carried her towards the bottom. She turned to him once her feet hit the ground. He tilted his head in a "You see how easy that was?" gesture.

"Thanks."

Roy nodded. "Yeah."

They stared at each for a moment, not entirely sure what they were supposed to do or say next. Thankfully, they didn't have to do or say anything, because the loud quiet was ruptured by accented humming; a Mexican striker was making his quick descent, and he was singing a song in his native tongue.

"That's it, Dani," Ted nodded as he caught sight of his last player. "Come on."

Ada made towards her brother as everyone began huddling up. Jamie was already stood by the railing, glancing down at the rushing current of brown and grey. The smell hit her as soon she took her place beside him, and they both buried their noses inside their zip up collars, leaning against each other for support.

"Alright," Ted clapped. "Greyhounds, behold the majesty of the London sewer system." He waved a hand around, encouraging them to admire the soiled infrastructure.

Jamie Tartt uncovered his nose and mouth in order to offer his singular blunt opinion; "Disgusting."

"Nothing like Flushed Away." Ada murmured, glancing over at her twin. He was nodding in agreement. And so was the person standing to Jamie's left; Roy, who understood her reference, and who willingly chose to be near her brother.

"Disgusting." Ted thoughtfully echoed. "Yeah, that's what I thought at first as well. But then, over the summer, Henry and I took a tour of this place with Ivor here."

Ivor, their guide, gave a shy nod. He had a lanyard around his neck, and was tightly gripping onto a hefty clipboard. There was no doubting that he was a professional. Ada briefly wondered what would inspire someone to seek out this particular job – not out of judgment, but genuine curiosity. She wondered if Ivor's father was a sewage cicerone, and she wondered if he took up the torch in order to make him proud.

"Why would you take your kid for a tour of a sewer?" Colin wearily wondered, halting her thought train.

"It was his idea, actually." Ted replied, a smile on his face as he fondly looked back on their summer shenanigans.

Ada snorted. "So weird, the kid."

"Henry." Everyone chorused, coaches and footballers and guides alike.

"I know." She rolled her eyes and curled up against her twin brother. He tugged at her growing hair (once jaw-lengthed, now nearing the shoulder blades). She elbowed him in the gut. He grunted in pain.

"Hey, stop it." Ted leaned across Sam and Zoreaux to chide them, and only straightened back up when the siblings started behaving themselves. "Now, what was I saying?"

"You took your small son on a tour of a filthy, shitty sewer." Jan Mass supplied with a sweet smile.

"Uh, right," The man nodded. "See, what happened was, on his plane ride over here, the fellow sitting next to Henry was watching that horror movie It. And, well, he accidentally ended up watching it too."

"Remember that time dad made us watch Jaws with him?" Jamie huffed.

"Yeah," Ada nodded. It was the first time she knew movies could be scary, and it was the reason she went her whole life without going to the beach. "Dickhead."

Her brother snorted. "Yeah."

"When he heard about this tour," Ted was saying in the background. "He asked to go on it in order to face his fears."

"Fucking smart." Roy hummed, which triggered a chorus of agreement.

"He really is." Ted grinned. "And he knew he was safe because I was with him. I made sure he didn't get too scared when we got near the water."

Ada's eyes instinctively flickered over to the left. Roy was already looking at her.

"But, I mean, I was kinda scared too." Ted comedically confessed. "Ain't much scarier out there than a creepy clown." A scatter of hums echoed down the tunnels as they all voiced their agreement. "Now, Ivor, why don't you help these fine fellas with some fun facts about this here faeces factory?"

The man perked up. "Well, back in eighteen fifty nine, an engineer called Joseph Bazalgette and his team--"

"What team?" Jamie couldn't help but wonder. "Was it United? Please tell me it wasn't fucking United."

Ada turned to squint at him. "Not a football team, you dickhole."

     He defensively stuck his tongue out.

     She returned the gesture.

     "An engineering team," Ivor decided to offer up, tone very much unsure. He went on with his tale when Ted gave him an assuring pat. "Erm, Bazalgette and his men actually built more than 1,200 miles of interconnected tunnels and sewers. And its creation helped cure a massive cholera outbreak after untreated human waste found its way into the River Thames."

      Isaac grimaced.

     "Anyone know what that epidemic was called?" Ivor then prompted.

     Ada raised her hand to answer, the way she always did back at school, but the response was casually called out by Beard; "Great Stink of 1858."

     "That's correct." Ivor grinned.

       Ada frowned as everyone let out impressed sounds. "He didn't even raise his hand, that doesn't count."

     Ted curiously tilted his head.

      "I'm just saying, I know more than he does, okay?" Her words seemed to intrigue their tour guide. "Like, did you know that the Great Stink actually improved public health? Louis Pasteur's publication of germ theory--"

     "Oh, God," Jamie rolled his eyes. "Stop her, I beg you. She'll go on forever."

     Ada gaped. "He asked a question--"

     "Someone already answered."

     "He didn't raise his hand!"

      "I have a question," Isaac interrupted from his place towards the back. And he made sure that his hand was raised, so that the validity of his query wouldn't be challenged or disputed.

     "Go on, Isaac." Ted sighed – and whether it was a relieved sigh (nobody wanted to hear the twins bicker like children) or a pained one (he wanted to hear more about the tunnels' history), nobody really knew.

     "What the fuck are we doing here?"

      The team was quick to agree. Their own nags and complaints flooded the tunnels like wastewater, filling all the cracks in the brick interior.

      "Silence!" Roy roared, immediately putting an end to their childish moaning.

      "Thank you, Coach." Ted grinned. "And that's actually a good question, Isaac. And direct, which is a personality trait y'alls generation has truly embraced -- and I tell you what, I've spent a lot of time with Soufflé and have since grown used to the, uh, crassness. And, yeah, I appreciate how forward that question was."

     Ada and Isaac exchanged a look.

    "Yeah, well, hey, fellas," The man then continued. "Take a look around. What are we surrounded by down here?"

      Jamie raised his hand, as per his sister's irritating insistence. "Coach."

      "Yeah, Jamie."

      "We're surrounded by poopy."

      Ted blinked, and was relieved to see many faces being pulled at the strange pronunciation. "Uh, that's right. But if you ask me, we're surrounded by a whole bunch of poopeh up there as well, yeah?"

    "Why'd he say it like that?" Jamie asked.

     Ada shrugged, "His weird accent."

     Roy rolled his eyes.

     "See, gentlemen," Ted sighed. "Right now, y'alls brains are basically London in eighteen fifty seven."

     "When the Lundhill Colliery explosion in the South Yorkshire Coalfield killed nearly two hundred miners." Ada nodded.

    He stared at her. "Well, I actually meant the whole poopeh in the river thing."

      Another nod. "Oh."

     "Y'alls brains are basically London in eighteen fifty seven," Ted repeated. "They're blocked up by other people's dookie." He pressed a hand to the centre of his chest. "Y'all need to make an internal sewer system within yourselves. And then connect to each others tunnels, help each other keep that flow."

      Beard appreciatively tilted his head.

      "So if you're ever having a crisis of confidence, you know, borrow something from them folks over there." Ted gestured towards the Tartt twins, who were once again slumped against each other. "Yeah? And if you're feeling down, you know, get some Dani in your life."

    "I love to share!" The Mexican grinned.

      Ted shot him a smile before gesturing towards the end of the railing. "Or y'all can learn from Richard's vast knowledge of expensive wines."

     "Fine wines, Coach." Richard corrected. "The thing is, a great bottle of wine really doesn't need to be an expensive bottle of wine, you get it?"

      "Ahhh." They all nodded, feeling as though they'd just learned something vital to their everyday life.

       "You see? That's some wisdom right there." Ted hummed. "Merci beacoup!"

    "Can diabetics drink wine?" Ada asked.

     Richard's eye twitched.

     "Guys," Ted said before her question could kickstart a debate on insulin. "All we gotta do is remember to stay connected to one another, and let anything we don't need flow right through," He gestured towards the never ending tunnels. "All the way to, uh, I don't know. .  . Germany?"

      Roy stiffened.

      Ada chewed on her cheek.

     "It's actually processed through a treatment plant and dumped back into the ocean," Ivor revealed. "You know, where we swim and get our seafood."

     "That's just horrible." Ted nodded.

      Ivor shrugged.

     "Alright, so, y'all get it?" His question garnered soft, but eager, nods. "Okay, let's get upstairs and get some fresh air."

     "No sudden movements near the bus driver!" Beard reminded as everyone made towards the ladder – just in case they forgot that Kenneth, the former cult leader, was an avid toad venom smoker.

"Well, now I wanna do jumping jacks just to see what happens." Ada mumbled, setting her foot on the first rung. A hand was on her waist before she could start ascending, and a pair of cool lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

"Wait for them to go up first."

She felt herself nod without even thinking about it, and she hopped off the ladder before her mind could order her body. Roy was stood very close, and so her back was now pressed up against his front. They both stood still as the remainder of the team climbed up out of the manhole.

Roy felt his heart thump.

Ada felt her stomach hurt.

"Hey, Ades!" A northern voice called out, bringing their attention back towards the ladder. Jamie was going next, and he was looking at his sister from over his shoulder. "I'm going up. Just watch me arse, alright?"

"A peach." Bumbercatch agreed.

✷

Unlike the bus ride over, when she sat beside Jamie in order to keep herself truly entertained, Ada spent the bus ride back to Nelson Road with Sam Obisanya, whose tamer nature allowed her the opportunity to nap. It was tiring, hopping of a plane and then heading into work – especially when work consisted of babysitting nearly two dozen men and ensuring that they stayed on their best behaviour when out in public (Colin and Isaac thought it was a good idea to rag on a bus full of kids when at a red light, like they were from a rival school or something).

Her nap was short but effective, similar to a shot of caffeine in that regard. She was feeling much more energised as she and her fellow coaches entered the main office – although, nobody was quite as zippy as Ted Lasso, who practically ran towards his desk in order to check on his son's flight.

Ada leaned against the diving doorway and watched him do the quick subtraction of hours. He used his fingers to count, and she was pretty sure that he murmured something about marmalade sandwiches, but it was all drowned out by Beard's entrance and subjective declaration.

"I really like that Kenneth guy." The man mused, pulling his sunglasses off and adjusting the cap on his head. "He just seems really plugged in, yeah?"

Roy scoffed, following him into the room. "That nutter told me to ask the fucking Earth to help me carry some of my burdens."

"You feel burdened?" Beard asked.

Roy said nothing. He brushed past a shifting Ada and entered the joined office, picking up his phone from Nate's old desk.

Ted shrugged. "Yeah, no, because it's pretty solid advice if you are."

Again, no response. And this time it was because the sound of pings and alerts flooded the air before anyone could say anything. The coaches and their players all felt their phones vibrate in their hands and pockets.

Ada furrowed her brows and pulled her own device out her skirt, where it was safely secured between the inelastic band and her toned tummy.

"Oh, boy." Beard sighed as he read the notification. The headline had been sent to them by KJLA; London now managed the entire team and Keeley kept track of all their public mentions.

"What?" Ted asked.

Roy walked back into the main office, phone in hand. "That little prick."

"Who?" He looked to Ada next, but she seemed to be in her own world, staring at her screen with a hard-to-place frown; the expressions was equal parts scorned and surprised and disappointed.

"Just check your phone," Beard advised, shooting his best friend a forlorn sort of look – not because he himself was sad (spurned and slighted, but not sad), but because he knew that Ted would be.

WONDER KID
BURNS RICHMOND.

"Oh," Ted blinked, quickly reading over the article. It was a short thing, no doubt published whilst the press conference was still taking place, and it was essentially a compilation of snide remarks from West Ham manager, Nathan Shelley.

"That little shit said we're predicted to come in twentieth place because there's no twenty first." Ada scoffed, breaking her prolonged vow of silence. She eyed the quote once more. "Kinda funny."

"Hmm." Beard shrugged.

The coaches then turned to the locker room, checking in on the team's reactions. They'd all been in the middle of changing when the notifications arrived, and were just now finding out.

"Hey!" Zoreaux called out, garnering his teammates' attention. "You guys see what Nate just said about us?"

The boys turned away from their individual cubbies, and even Will looked up from his piles of folded towels.

"Check this out, look." The goalie waved them over, and they all approached. The players on the other side of the room decided to pull out their own phones and investigate. "You believe this?"

"What the fuck?" Isaac frowned.

"No, no, no." Sam shook his head, refusing to believe that someone could change that much in so little time.

Ted understood that reaction quicker than he could translate the athletic rage, and quicker than he could decipher the English curses. "I should say something."

But he didn't have to.

Because someone else took to the plate.

"Hey, hey, lads!" Jamie called out, standing from the bench and waving a placating hand. They all turned to face him, no doubt anticipating another conciliation that revolved around him being their saving grace. "Remember. It's just poopy. Let it flow."

That seemed to lift their spirits almost immediately. Pleased smiles and sounds of complete agreement washed over the room in a merry wave.

"Just like in the sewer!" Dani deduced.

Jamie snapped his fingers and shot him a delighted wink. "Bingo, El Ringo."

Ted and Ada exchanged an amused look, quickly noting the effect of having Jamie spend quality time with the Lasso family this summer; he now rhymed. Her brother must have already built an internal sewer system and connected it to someone else's tunnel.

Roy bit back a proud smile.

Ada still caught it.

His dark eyes locked onto hers.

And that was how they ended up in the closet for the second time today, panting and needy as they rubbed up against each other. He was nuzzling at her neck. She was nibbling at his ear.

Ada's hands fumbled with the strings of his joggers, fingers all but twitching in their desperation. Roy swiftly pulled her shirt off, mouth latching onto her chest. She thread her fingers through his curls and pulled him impossibly close as he continued to suckle.

"You're so beautiful."

She shook her head and reached a hand into his boxers. He pulled away from her breasts and quickly took to her plump mouth. Their tongues met in a wet, hot clash. He decided not to take her skirt off, merely pushing the hem upwards and leaving it folded against her tummy.

    Ada moaned inside his mouth as he started rubbing at her soaked underwear. She ran her fingertips along his impressive length, so that they were even, and he pulled his lips away from hers in order to kiss her on the cheek.

"Beautiful." He whispered once more.

Warm.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him again. And again. And then a third time. Just a sprinkle of adoring pecks on his lips and chin and cheeks. His fingers pushed the gusset of her underwear aside and lightly teased her lining. She bit down on his bottom lip.

Roy thought her kisses had a narcotic effect on him. He felt them in his spine and in his pelvic bone. They made him feel cold, but cold in a way that had him desperately seeking more of her warmth; she kissed him and he wanted to be buried inside her, she kissed him and he wanted them to hug, she kissed him and he wanted them to sit down for a hot meal. Blindly, he pulls his shirt off and tosses it over his shoulder.

And then they were kissing again, as was their habitual wont. They still had their bottoms and undergarments on. She felt his fingers continue to tease, and she felt his cock, heavily erect and pressed up against her belly. He wanted to fuck her. She wanted the very same.

    "I need you." She murmured.

     So very warm.

     "I love you, Ada."

      Roy's eyes fluttered open in confused surprise as she pushed him off. There was a strange look on her face, not necessarily guarded, but something not too far off. She had her arms crossed over her naked chest, and she was lightly shaking her head.

    "What?" He asked.

     Ada shot him a look. "Roy."

     "What?"

     "You can't say that. . ." She whispered, running a hand over her face. He pinched the bridge of his nose, neck and cheeks flushed with something other than desire. "I mean, you can, but it's. . ."

     "What?" Roy prompted. It was as if he knew no other words. "It's what?"

     "It's weird." She weakly shrugged.

     He tried to laugh it off, tried pointing out how ridiculous this whole thing was. "I was inside you a few hours ago."

     "But we're not together anymore."

       So very cold.

✷

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

There was no instruction manual on how to accept a marriage proposal, and that was because most people would never know to order one. The shipping date could clash with spontaneity, and the instructions could prove incompatible with the method and setting – like, what if it said to wear high heels, only for your partner to pop the question at the beach? Or what if it advised you to wear black, only for the weather to be boiling hot outside? What if it bid you to say yes, only for you to say the wrong thing?

Roy Kent said the wrong thing.

Because there also was no instruction manual on how to accept a let's move in together proposal.

    "We'll find a house. We'll make it our own. We'll live there, we'll die there." That was she'd said on that candlelit terrace, after pointing out his idiocy and the inevitability of them living together.

To which he said four words:

"You should keep yours."

Ada had stared at him in complete and utter silence, assuming that she'd heard him wrong. When he made no move to rectify his wording, she told herself that he meant something else; maybe he wanted to move into her place rather than hunt for a new one – that would make sense, given that her home had become a sort of haven to the both of them.

Then three more words, safe words:

"Just in case."

She allowed for another stretch of quiet, giving him the chance to explain himself. Giving him the chance to take it back. And when he didn't, Ada stood up from her chair and stormed out of the restaurant, shooting the owners a polite enough smile as she made for the exit.

Roy shoved a thick wad of cash into the check holder and rushed after her. She swung the door shut behind her – shamelessly, because she knew it wouldn't bang against the doorframe. Instead, it caught her boyfriend on the leg. He grit his jaw in pain and limped after her, following the billowing wave of wheat blonde.

The neighbourhood was quaint, one of the few areas that was relatively tame in the evening time, and the clacking of her heels against the cobblestone left a decent echo. So, too, did her mutterings.

"Just in case." She huffed under her breath, stride never faltering.

"Ada."

"Just in case?"

Roy managed to catch up with her, ignoring the tweak in his knee and the lazy gazes of strangers. He grabbed onto her arm as soon as he was close enough. She pushed him off and resumed her onward strut. He tried again, and when she resisted, he decided to hurriedly guide them towards a side street. She could've fought some more, but chances were that she agreed with the rerouting; nobody wanted to be that couple on vacation.

"Ada--"

"Just in case." She whirled around to face him, and he was surprised to find that her eyes were dewy. "Don't you get that I would never do this to you?"

Roy shook his head. "Do what?"

"Make you feel like your love's invisible!"

He shook his head again, assuming that she'd misheard him back in the restaurant. Or that she'd at least misinterpreted what he meant because Roy remembered what he said, and he knew it couldn't have provoked this much of a reaction. "That's not what it is--"

"You're right," Ada snapped, tears of indignation welling in her eyes as she shoved him back a step. "It's not what it is. My love isn't something you should be able to question, not if you listen to me." Yet another shove, this one much weaker than the first. "Not if you see me."

She used to think he saw her.

Ada understood that he had insecurities. He was human, and he was only a little boy when the world started treating him like a grown man. But she tried so fucking hard to make their relationship a sealed and stable place. It was one thing for him to glare at blushing invisibles, and it was quite another for him to suggest she keep her own house when moving into another.

It made her feel small, unreliable.

Roy recognised that vulnerable glint in her eyes and, rather idiotically, he thought to pull her close. She shoved him away. He pressed his mouth against hers, softly and tenderly. He kissed her like it would fix everything. After a moment, she found herself kissing him back.

"Say you love me." Ada murmured against his lips, staring up at him with her big brown eyes. Urging eyes, wet eyes.

   His answer came quick. "I love you."

"I know," She leaned up to kiss him again, slower. Her hands cupped his neck. He rested his forehead against hers once they pulled apart. "Say that I love you."

Roy hesitated. "Ada,"

Ada felt her jaw drop, and she felt her skull pulse with the weight of confusion. "Wha-- I can't believe you." She pushed him away from her and stalked off. They'd been together for over a year, they joked about kids and marriage, they just made plans to live together, and he couldn't accept the fact that her love was real.

(Her mind briefly flickered to the conversation she recently had with Beard, just before the summer. He'd told her about Roy seeking Diamond Dog council – he gave no details, of course, but had let her in on the basics; her boyfriend thought she looked fine without him. Beard had let it slip not with the intention to sabotage or stir, but with the hope of shedding light on a deep rooted issue. He'd just wanted her to be aware, and he wanted for them to address and work on it.

They didn't.

Because she knew Roy Kent like the back of her hand, and whilst he was willing to communicate with her, there was a limit. Discussing his self-doubt would do no good. Plus, she'd naively assumed that Beard had misread the situation. Surely, Roy meant that she looked better in the pictures. She could see him being disheartened over the fact that he was cut from the photoshoot, and she could see him opening up about that to a group of open minded men.

But she never would've predicted this painful truth. That he thought she had one foot in and one foot out. That he thought her love was fickle. That he believed her promises of commitment to be mutable.)

"Just in case." She said again, ignoring the drunken whistles as she walked past a bike rack; it was void of bicycles, and a group of intoxicated teenagers were using it as some sort of bench.

Roy trailed after her, struggling to see in the dark. "Ada, you're confused."

That was the wrong thing to say.

He watched her halt a few feet ahead. Her back was to him, and he somehow knew that she was crying – even if it was happening internally. He then watched her turn to him, a broken sort of rage marring her face. It looked like she wanted to punch him, and like she wanted him to comfort her when the skin of her knuckles inevitably split.

"I'm not." She snipped. "Don't tell me that I am, because I'm not. And don't speak to me like I'm a child, because I'm not a fucking child!"

Roy raised his hands and took a step towards her. "I know."

"No, you don't know." Ada chewed on her cheek, jaw quivering. "You clearly don't know anything. Or else you wouldn't have said what you said." He opened his mouth to say something, but she was faster. "Just in case what, Roy?"

She couldn't get them out of her head, those three words. They hadn't left her mind for a second, not since he spoke them. Not since they fell from his mouth so casually. As if it was normal to speak of contingency plans with a girl who wanted nothing short of forever.

"Just in case. . . I dont know."

"What, in case I walk?" She guessed, approaching him on unsteady feet. "In case I leave? In case I quit?" Her finger pressed against his firm chest, no doubt wrinkling the black button up. "You think that after everything I've been through, I would just fucking--"

Silence.

(Roy didn't understand how they got here. It was just the other day, during the Vanity Fair shoot, that he was comforting her about this very fear; "People don't leave unless they want to. You're not gonna walk out," Because Ada Tartt had been so sure that it was genetic, the inability to stay. And now he was making her doubt herself, he was making this girl doubt everything he claimed to believe about her.)

"You know, I was supposed to be coaching a girl's team this summer." She whispered, less like a secret keeper and more like someone who'd lost the will to speak. "The one I told you about. The one I was so excited to-- I fucking gave it up for you, Roy!"

The guilt was immediate.

It flooded his belly like a lethal venom.

(He'd forgotten about that. And he wished he could say it was because Ada hadn't mentioned it since that night in the kitchen, but the truth was that he forgot about ten minutes after she told him. Because the Vanity Fair photos had been sent over. And then they went upstairs and fucked until they couldn't breathe. And then, the next day, they had that match against Brentford.

The coaching gig had completely slipped his mind when he planned this trip. She didn't mention it when he surprised her with the tickets, and when he told her that they'd be gone for six weeks. All he could think about was Richmond's pivotal win, and the prospect of them getting away together. He never would've arranged the holiday had he known. He never would've arranged it had he remembered. Had she reminded him.)

"You can't hold that over my head." He quietly told her, both guilty and indignant. The last thing he'd wanted to do was hold her back – the notion had plagued him since the early days of their relationship; he was older, he was injured, he was retired. And now he was the reason she'd missed out on a thrilling job opportunity. "I didn't ask you to do that, Ada."

    She stared at him. "I'm not holding-- I did it because I wanted this summer to be ours! I want everything to be ours, yours and mine! I love you. . ."

     Roy shifted on his feet. "This is--"

     Ada ignored him. "But you can't see it. And at some point I have to start thinking that you just dont want to see it."

    She knew that Roy Kent loved her. It was in his eyes and on his mouth. In the way he stared at her after sex, and the way he fed her breakfast in the mornings. It was in the way he held her hand both in public and in private. The way he kissed her throat and her stomach.

     His love was beautiful, and selfless, and kind. But it wasn't always fair. Because she loved him just as fiercely, and he couldn't seem to understand that. There was only so many times you could convince someone that you loved them before you had to look to the possibility that maybe they don't want you to.

     "Why isn't. . ." She bit on her tongue. "Why isn't me everything enough for you?"

     "It is." Roy promised.

     "I'm tired, Roy. I'm fucking drained."

      He took in her windblown hair, and her knocking knees, and her reddening nose. The orange light, streaming down from the nearby lamppost, highlighted the shadows beneath her eyes. And it also called attention to the goosebumps on her tanned arms. No doubt she was exhausted and cold. She was dressed in a white slip dress, made of a thin material. It was appropriate for the summer but perhaps too light for this moderately brisky night.

     "Maybe we should take a break."

      (He meant from fighting.)

      "Is that what you want?"

      Roy took note of her trembling chin, and he frowned in concern. "I feel like that's what you need, Ada."

      "A break." She echoed.

     But Ada didn't question it, because she knew from her mother that changing a man's path didn't change his mind. He clearly wanted this. And maybe he was right. Maybe they needed to work on themselves. Maybe they needed time apart,  to grow. Maybe a break now would prevent a break up later.

    Or maybe Ada was just looking for any old explanation. Because it was better to have a reason than to wallow over the why's and the how's. She wasn't going to beg that he take it all back. She wasn't going to beg that he stay. Ada Tartt had done enough of that, since she was a little girl.

     "So I'll leave."

      Roy furrowed his brows. "What?"

     "I'll go." She shrugged.

      "Ada--"

      She mistook his confusion for worry, and quickly assured him. "I'll go to Berlin. Me accommodations are all set up, they said they'd wait for me."

      "Oh." He rolled his jaw, and felt his eyes burn rather painfully. It was all so very centrifugal, but she clearly had everything figured out. "I mean, sure, if that's what you want."

       Ada stared at him.

       Roy stared back.

       And then she ran over, breaking the literal and the metaphorical distance. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her damp cheek was now pressed against his flushed one. He didn't know what to do with himself, so he burrowed his face in the crook of her delicate neck.

    (Ada Tartt never left on bad terms.)

     "I'll see you in two weeks."

      "Yeah," He wasn't her boyfriend, but he also wasn't her ex. And whilst that last part was reassuring, all it did was remind him that he was now nothing. "See you."

      Ada bit down on her bottom lip and squeezed him even tighter. His hands were large, and they covered the expanse of her back as he held her; everything about him felt so fucking safe.

    If he asked her to stay, then she would.

    She would do whatever he wanted.

    (Roy felt wrong asking for anything.)

    Ada pressed a slow kiss to his cheek and took her leave. He watched her go, and he watched her take the familiar path towards their shared flat, their temporary home – it never felt so temporary before now.

    

       

✷

PRESENT DAY

    "Do we tell her?" He grunted, watching his niece shovel a heaping spoonful of banana split down her child sized gullet.

     Ada chewed on her cheek in silent contemplation. She and Roy were leaning against adjacent counters in her kitchen, watching young Phoebe indulge in the overflowing supply of ice cream (the child had been gifted a generous portion by Jamie, who'd spent his summer inside an ice cream van with Dani Rojas, stuffing his belly with waffle cones and large tubs of chocolate swirl).

     "I'm finished, Uncle Ada!" The little girl declared as she set her bowl down. Ada and Roy stared at each other for a moment before approaching the dining table and taking seats on either side of her.

     "Come here." Ada murmured, cupping the girl's chubby cheeks. She used her thumbs to wipe away the thick syrup.

     Roy watched them.

     "Jamie's really cool." Phoebe grinned, earning a soft smile from the older girl, who loved nothing more than hearing her other half be praised. "Thanks for letting me have ice cream before dinner, adults only do that when they have bad news."

      Shit.

      "Pheebs." Ada whispered, grabbing onto her little hands. "Your Uncle Roy and I have actually do have something we need to tell you. . . But it's not bad news if you really think about it, okay?"

      Phoebe's eyes darted between the two of them, and the sad look in her uncle's eyes worried her. "Okay, what?"

      A beat.

     "We broke up." Roy answered.

     "We're going on a break." Ada revealed at the same exact time. She stiffened once she heard his words, and quickly shot him a look. He was clearly thinking about the supply closet, and her reluctance to hearing him say those three words – but that had less to do with her feelings and more to do with the reason for their temporary separation; he didn't get to say he loved her until he believed she loved him too. "We're going on a break."

      Phoebe frowned. "For how long?"

      "Not long," Ada assured, reaching out and fixing her hair. "It's something people do sometimes. When they both feel really confused. And when they feel like they have to work on the friend bit of being boyfriend and girlfriend."

    "But you were never friends before."

     Roy blinked, never having thought of that. He supposed it was true. There was never a transition period. They'd gone from being foes to being in a relationship. But it never felt rushed. It never felt doomed.

      "Exactly." Ada stuttered. "Uh, and that's kind of a problem."

      Phoebe's frown deepened. "So it'll be a really long break then."

       "No." Roy shook his head, avoiding the red-brown eyes darting his way.

      "And you won't even feel it." Ada made sure to promise, giving her fingers a loving squeeze. "I loved you before I loved him. We're going to see each other whenever you want to, and if he's on his best behaviour, then he can join in."

    Phoebe watched her uncle roll his eyes. This felt like such a regular conversation; Ada plying her with ice cream despite Roy's obvious reluctance, Ada teasing him, Roy rolling his eyes. None of this made sense to her. "But you two are still in love."

      Another beat.

    "Of course we are." Ada brokenly smiled. "I think it's just really hard to remember you're loved when, you know, you don't feel like you deserve it."

      Roy shifted in his chair.

     "So that's why you're breaking up?"

     "It's a break." The man corrected.

      Phoebe looked to him. "Can I please say a really bad word?"

       "Go on then."

       "I think this is really stupid."

       Ada reached for the empty bowl of ice cream and swiped at the stained sides. She plopped her fingers in her mouth and licked the chocolate off. "Sure."

    "That can't be the only reason." Phoebe shook her head. Her young mind was struggling to comprehend the concept of deserving love – surely if you wanted it, then you could just accept it. "Are you two angry at each other like before?"

      "It's nothing like that." Ada denied.

      Roy felt his stomach swirl rather unpleasantly. This was such an ugly conversation, and hearing everything be explained only proved that none of it made sense. "It's the way things are."

    Phoebe wanted to whine and cry like the children in the year below her at school, because this wasn't fair at all. She heard people calling summer a short break, and it honestly felt like years to her. What if this break was the same? What if they ended up like her parents, who never spoke to each other at all?

      "I understand." The little girl spoke, tone mature despite her upset tummy. "You two want to be friends who love each other so that you can be a couple who loves each other even better. So that it's deserved."

      Ada hadn't actually thought of it that way. Truth was that she didn't know why they were on a break. "Exactly."

    "Yeah." Roy grunted.

    "You promise you'll get back together?"

      "Trouble," Ada smiled, pressing a light kiss to each of her chubby digits. "Have I ever lied to you before?"

      Phoebe shook her head no.

      "There you go."

      

      

       

    

⚽️: not gonna say "vote if you're happy" because then this chapter would get no votes and NONE of us will be happy.

⚽️: update schedule kinda messed up because of my lectures, but I hope to get chapters up more regularly now that we're in the final season!!! also this chapter isn't edited at all so ignore all the mistakes.

⚽️: uh. . . thoughts?