Football Smuts

The Other Woman - Fernando Torres

I'm not into infidelity, but I somehow enjoyed writing this nonetheless.

Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I looked out of the small café's window and onto the busy street outside. Cars were rushing by, people were crossing the street or flagging down taxis, and couples were kissing each other hello or goodbye.

Couples.

My stomach lurched; I was sitting in a café, waiting for the guy I'd been sleeping with to arrive, to tell him that I was in love with him, knowing very well that he'd been married for quite a while now. Wow. Sighing, I ran my hands through my hair. I was such a bitch.

"Y/N?" I suddenly heard Fernando's familiar, deep voice speak up behind me. Slowly, I took a deep breath before turning to face him, forcing a smile. He looked nice, wearing a simple black T-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled from the wind. His brown eyes were locked on mine, fond, warm, and heart-stoppingly beautiful.

"Hi." My voice sounded surprisingly small – so far, I'd always been quite good at hiding the guilt and love I felt, but today my whole facade seemed to crumble.

In response, Fernando's eyebrows shot up. He looked concerned rather than surprised, though. "You okay?" He kissed the top of my head before sitting on the table next to me, mouthing 'coffee, please' at the waitress, who I supposed had looked at him questioningly.

"Yeah, I– I'm fine. How are you?"

The slight downward curve of his lips told me that he wasn't entirely convinced. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't look at him now, instead fixing my gaze on the waitress as she hurried over, carrying the cup of coffee Fernando had ordered on a tray. She offered a shy smile, probably having realized who the guy she was waiting on was.

"Here you go, sir," she mumbled. Fernando gave her a polite smile before he turned back around to me.

"Y/N. What is it?"

My shoulders slumped. "We're assholes."

Now he did look surprised. "What?"

"You're married!" I whisper-yelled. God. Maybe this café wasn't the right place to discuss our affair. What if someone heard? He wasn't precisely someone people ignored daily.

Fernando, on the other hand, didn't seem too fazed. If anything, he looked confused. "Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"

I let out a deep sigh for what felt like the thousandth time today. This was harder than I'd imagined. Could I tell him I'd fallen in love with him? Should I tell him? Would he want to hear it? What would that mean for us? Would he want to stop seeing me? Break it off? I wasn't sure I could bear not being with him anymore; I had grown so used to having him around me, feeling his touch and his lips on me, listening to his raspy voice in the mornings, holding his hand while watching some cliché romcom on TV, laughing at his many failed attempts at cooking ... I hadn't thought this out well enough.

"I don't know, I just–" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. My instinct told me just to run away, leave him behind and try to find someone who wasn't freaking married already. I mean, what did that make me? A whore?

But this thing between us had come from him – he'd asked me out, kissed me first, and told me he couldn't let go of me, even though he was married. And I, being the silly girl I was, had felt my heart flutter at his words.

"I need to talk to you," I said eventually.

"... Aren't we talking already?"

"No. I mean, talk to you."

Fernando frowned. "Oh. Go on, then."

"What, here?" Panic rushed through my veins.

Now it was Fernando who sighed. He leaned closer to me, resting his lower arms on the small wooden table between us. "Talk."

I looked around to ensure the other customers were minding their business before pressing my lips together and looking at him for a second. He was so handsome, god. I still couldn't understand how I'd gotten so lucky to meet him.

"You're married," I repeated quietly, my voice shaky. Fernando nodded slowly. "And you– we, we have this thing." Again, he nodded. "And it's wrong. It's shitty and makes us assholes, and it's wrong." No reaction from him this time. "And ... I don't know. I kind of– Oh god, this is so hard; I'm sorry, I–"

Fernando's hand comfortingly closing around mine stopped me. I watched his thumb caress the back of my hand in tiny circles, rubbing along my skin there softly. Somehow, this simple action erased the filter between my brain and mouth.

"I'm in love with you."

Fernando didn't look shocked or angry or upset like I'd feared. Instead, his eyes held mine calmly, twinkling with an emotion I couldn't make out but looking fond nonetheless. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his full lips.

I blinked.

"I'm in love with you, too," he admitted, voice a bit rough yet still so him that it made my insides melt. My heart skipped a beat, and heat crawled up my neck. I was such a sap. And such a bitch. Shit.

I untangled my fingers from him to bury my head in my hands. "You're married."

Fernando exhaled audibly. "I've thought about this before, Y/N. And I've talked about it to some of my teammates–"

"You've told people?" Immediately, my head popped up. Was he insane?

"They're not going to say anything. Look, things between my wife and me aren't going well anymore. I wouldn't have let myself get so close to you if they were."

Again, I buried my head in my hands. "Oh, my god."

"She knows."

As soon as those two words left his lips, my entire body froze. I felt as if my heart could combust at any moment, and all of a sudden, oxygen was coming slowly. What the hell? Had he told his wife?

I looked up at him, not daring to speak. Fernando's chest heaved visibly.

"I told her I wasn't feeling the same way I once had towards her anymore. And I told her that there was someone I'd fallen in love with. I didn't tell her your name or anything. I just– it wouldn't be fair, right? I'm a footballer, not an actor. I can't be with someone I no longer love."

I couldn't say anything.

"I can't say she was happy to hear this, but," he chuckled nervously, then added, "I want to be with you and– yeah, I'm getting divorced. I'm sorry; I should have told you earlier."

Brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I leaned back in my chair to look at Fernando. He shuffled a bit uncomfortably, offering an only-almost-there smile.

"Say something?"

"Can we please go home?"

Fernando's smile widened. "Sure, yeah. We can." He paid the bill, waved my thanks aside and took my hand as we walked out of the café and onto the busy street.

"Are you going to kiss me any time today?" he asked as we crossed the street, where his sleek black car was parked. I couldn't help but smile.

"Not until we're home."

Wiggling his eyebrows, Fernando opened the car's door for me. "Well, we better hurry up then."

As he confidently maneuvered the car through the thick traffic, my eyes were focused on his profile, wondering, once again, what I had done to get so lucky.