Hold Me Close

long-time rival

I have met Alexia Putellas on numerous occasions. For country, for club, for events. I have lost out to her for awards, and she has sat in the same position, watching me go up on stage and believing it should have been her. It is not uncommon for people to be choosing between me or her.

Jonatan and I spoke on the phone in the early days of the negotiations. I wanted to know if I'd be a benchwarmer or a replacement. He asked if I can play on the right and in the middle, to which I reminded him I'm two-footed. I could hear his grin through the phone. "You and Alexia, I feel, will have a connection," he said so confidently that I couldn't bring myself to tell him that she and I have been pitted against each other almost too much for us to be friends at all.

Now, sitting next to her in my new manager's office, I am surprised to find that she and I have gravitated toward each other, a united front against Jonatan. The handshake felt odd. We are on the same team now, even if she has been glaring at me the whole time. I wonder if she thinks I didn't notice how she held my hand a fraction longer than she should have.

"I know you two have met before," Jonatan says in English, "but I would like to remind both of you that you are no longer competing." We lost the translator when we lost the others, and Alexia looks slightly indignant about me not knowing Spanish. I suppose that's fair.

Her jaw clenches, and she gives her manager the same formidable look she gave me. "How are we not competing? We play the same position." If I didn't know any better, I would say she feels threatened.

"I have spoken to Fleur about this. As you may know, Fleur has a rare talent; equal control in both feet." I smirk at the flicker of jealousy upon her neutral expression. "Fleur needs to pass her fitness test and then we will start training with her on the right and you, Alexia, on the left. Extra sessions will be organised to strengthen our formation in the midfield."

Alexia turns to me, furious. She takes in my relaxed posture, my content smile. I lean back slightly, crossing my arms. "¿Es una broma?" Jonatan raises his eyebrows. "Mírala, no me gusta. Es tan arrogante, mira."

"Alexia," Jonatan says calmly. "This is what is happening. It is what is best for the club and the team." He glances at me, flashing me a small but reassuring smile. "Now, as the captain, please." He motions for her to, I'm not sure, give me a welcome speech? Can't wait.

Alexia sits up stiffly, looking straight past me. "Welcome to Barcelona, Fleur. I am sure you will be a great addition to the team and achieve great things. We, at the club, pride ourselves on our success, as I am sure you do too. I am excited for what is to come." She makes no effort to sound enthusiastic, instead coming across rather bored and rehearsed. Jonatan gives her a pointed look. "I am also sorry for your loss."

That catches me a little off guard. I am suddenly very conscious of whether or not the grieving act has been believable so far. "It wasn't your fault," I reply, not knowing what else to really say. "And I cannot wait to make my mark on the team for the next four years." Her eyes widen at the length of my contract, as if she was not expecting it. I scoff, not being able to help it. This time, she looks right into my eyes. I stare back. Oh, it is on.

Jonatan claps his hands together loudly, the sound bouncing around his office and snapping us both out of the staring contest. "Time for a tour! Alexia, porfa ven con nosotros."

We leave his office, me walking beside Jonatan and Alexia begrudgingly trailing behind. Jonatan points out important rooms, and then holds the door open for me as we make our way to the pitches. He lets go too soon for me to catch it, so Alexia is met with the door slamming in her face. I turn around to apologise, but she looks so angry that I am surprised there isn't steam coming out of her ears. I say nothing. She fakes a phone call shortly after.