Stay Away

we create our own heartbreak (we did this to ourselves)

"Jaimie?"

There are a lot of people in the hotel bar. Music pounds like a heartbeat, as if everyone will drop dead if the songs blasting out the speakers stopped. A wash of rainbow light cascades over the faces of pure happiness and pride. The atmosphere feels good.

I stand to the right of this crush of bodies, knowing that these people will recognise me and start to ask questions that I do not have the answers to. Whoever calls my name is drowned out by the chatter, disappearing into the crowd. I can't find Leah, but it may be due to lack of trying.

This was a mistake. I don't want someone to think we are together, because we are most definitely not. I can't let Fleur see me from where she is kissing Scarlett as they dance to the music.

I turn to leave, right back out the way I came in. Hopefully, I was imagining the shout of my name, and no one is none the wiser of my presence.

A hand grabs my wrist before I can take my first step.

"Jaimie?" The voice is familiar. It hammers on the door to my heart, begging to be let in. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," I confess, tugging at my wrist so I can continue with my pitiful departure. I can't meet Leah's eyes, instead focusing on the shining medal hanging from her neck. She doesn't let go of me. "This was a mistake, I'm sorry."

Her expression darkens and she holds on tighter.

"No."

"No, Lee, I really should–"

"I don't want you to go." She positions herself between me and the exit, hand slipping down from my wrist to intertwine her fingers with my own. "I just led my team to European victory and I... I can't stop thinking about you." I can see a reflection of myself in her glossy pupils, and I look like a deer caught in the headlights. "I can never stop thinking about you, Jaimie."

"Your team is probably waiting for their captain," I whisper, not being able to force anything louder past my lips. She steps in closer, pushing me back slightly, lengthening the distance to the way out. "Leah."

"Jaimie," she mimics.

"This is a really bad idea." Her smile cracks through the seriousness of her expression, wide and genuine. The medal sparkles under the lighting of the bar. "And this has to be a secret." She knows she has won.

"I won't tell a soul," Leah agrees, miming sealing her lips and throwing away the key. She knows she has won, and her hands take purchase on my waist, grip firm as if I am still a flight risk.

"What about your team?" I let her pull me into her, our faces practically level despite me being twelve centimetres taller. "Will they not miss their captain?"

"Fuck the team," she breathes. "I only want you."

I prolong the moment, suspending the time that exists between us, hoping that a stronger, smarter part of me realises my mistake at allowing this to become inevitable. Is this what I want? To be another trophy for Leah to add to her victorious evening; a means in which to amplify her success? I know that we have been using each other, but I like Leah, and this will ruin the fantasy of admiring her from afar.

She waits for me, patience wavering yet never overcoming her. My hand cups her cheek, affirming my decision.

Fantasies are dreams and dreams are not real. Kissing Leah tonight is better than never doing so, and, when she looks utterly breath-taking with hungry eyes and parted lips, who am I to leave her waiting?

Who am I to deny her another reward?

She kisses me fervently, as if it takes her a great deal of restraint to not always have her lips pressed to mine. I can feel her ribs against mine, heaving up and down. My fingers splay out on her cheek until they slide across her smooth skin and settle on the back of her neck, and her hands grasp my waist with a strength that pulses between my legs.

"Leah," I mutter, breaking apart for only a second to catch my breath. "Leah, someone will see. Nobody can see."

"No one cares," she insists, lips sucking along my jaw. "They are too drunk and too stupid and you are too–"

"Leah, my sister cannot see," I hiss as she nips the skin of my neck. "Do you have a hotel room?"

She shakes her head. "It's shared."

"Take me to the front desk." I run my hands through her damp hair, not expecting her to stop anytime soon. Except, she does, and pulls me into a hug. It feels just as inevitable as the kiss, but I am not ready to hear her tell me that she loves me. I cut her off as she opens her mouth. "I'm sure I can get us a room."

━━━━━━━

The morning, to my surprise, does not come with regret.

I wake up naked, tangled in filthy bed sheets, an arm loosely draped around my stomach. Leah is still asleep – she must be exhausted from yesterday. Two hours is a long time to play football, and what we did last night would be enough for me to never leave this bed again. 

Without disturbing Leah, I reach over to grab my phone, checking the time (6.00am) and sending Juan an anticipatory 'sorry I'm late' message. I give myself an hour to sort this mess out.

First, I allow her another minute of lying half on top of me, before gently pushing her off and searching for my clothes. I only find a sock, and so settle for wearing the robe in the wardrobe for the time being.

Then I shower, washing off the sheen of sweat sticking to my skin. It's refreshing and my feelings for the woman lying in the bed a closed door away are reaffirmed, because they are still just as present when I step out as when I stepped in. This is real, and now I have to deal with it. That's doable.

"Why're you up?" grumbles the lump under the bedsheets. The screech of the coffee machine must have woken her. "It's too fuckin' early, please come back here." I finish brushing my wet hair and sit on the bed, pulling at the white material so I can see her face. She grins when she sees me. "Mornin'."

"Goedemorgen," I reply. "Go back to sleep while I finish getting ready, and then we'll talk."

"Can only get to sleep if you c'mere," she mumbles, reaching up to drag me back into bed. I resign to my fate, enjoying the way the muscles in her arm tense. She lifts the sheets so I can slide underneath them, and settles herself with her head on my chest and hooked spread across mine. I try not to acknowledge that she isn't wearing any clothes. "What d'you wanna talk about? Thought you'd've legged it by now."

I was planning to.

(Plans change.)

"I really like you, Leah," I start, inhaling deeply and forcing myself to get the words out. "And this feels unfair to do when you're half asleep... but I live in Melbourne. For two months of the year, when I am not hopping from place to place for tournaments, I go home and sleep in my bed. Two months. I am so busy, and you are so busy – you're going to be a star in England now – and this just isn't going to work."

The morning does not come with regret, no. It comes with heartbreak.

Leah shuffles, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, sitting up with the sheets clutched to her chest. "You're breaking up with me and we're not even together?" she asks, the rasp in her voice making her sound even more hurt than she looks. "It was one night, Jaimie. You haven't given me a chance."

"I can't give you a chance!" She flinches. My heart breaks. "Lee, I... I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, "No." Wet, dull eyes stare at me, sussing out whether I'm serious or not. "Please don't be sorry," she whispers, head bowing so that the tears rolling down her cheeks have means to drip their way onto mine. "Please just stay. We can figure it out later." She kisses me again, growing desperate.

"I should have stayed away from you," I mutter, more to myself than to her. "You, Leah Williamson, deserve more than me."

And I do hear the faint 'you're wrong' whispered against my lips, but I can't bring myself to believe it.

notes:

lets pretend this is way longer than it is.

anyway, enjoy this! it was far sadder than i intended but plans change!!!!!

thanks for reading (and maybe expect an update of hold me close sometime soon...) xxxxxx