Style // 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

1.

Friday

"What the fuck is your problem?"

I glimpse up from the TikTok series I've been mindlessly scrolling through, watching as the midfielder leisurely strolls into Rebecca's office. Roy has some kind of swagger to his walk, like he owns the place, despite being an older player on the pitch. He's still in his football kit, repping his thick-eyebrowed scowl he's always got on.

"Oh, wait, I know this one." The club owner says sarcastically, looking up in thought before jabbing a finger in Roy's direction. "You are!"

I chuckle a little at her reaction, locking my phone and letting the early-morning darkness swallow me. Again. With the winter waiting for Monaco just around the corner, the days fly by quicker than you can blink. Thankfully, the cooler weather does too, meaning I can sit in a jumper without breaking a sweat. It's rare that I do this, sitting in my room, with no lights on, binge-watching a series. But this Ted Lasso series seems to be the program that everyone loves right now.

"If I ask you to do a press conference, do the fucking press conference!" Rebecca bites back, cursing like she's copying the snappy player in front of her.

"Okay, shit. I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was a big deal." Roy apologises with the least apologetic tone I have ever heard.

Then again, he's Roy Kent. He's either mad, mad, or mad.

"So you just didn't do it?" Rebecca asks, shrugging at him.

Roy narrows his eyes, like he's trying to figure her out. That's what I love about Rebecca's character. She's very ballsy, strong-minded. She isn't a push over, and enjoys being the only woman in an industry of dastardly old men. Then Keeley will waltz on in and rip that professionalism from her without even trying.

"Is that the plan for the rest of your life?" Rebecca asks him as he remains silent. "You're just going to walk away from everything the second it isn't fun, or easy?"

My phone comes to life again with a ping, the notification lighting up my room with an uncomfortable white light. My eyes strain as I look at it, struggling to turn down the brightness. God, I can feel my eyes welling up already. I yawn as I squint at the notification, my heart dropping like an anchor as I read the message.

Charles
Hey, I'm back in Monaco

My ears burn as I open the notification, all the silver piercings lining my ears touching the skin around them. I couldn't give a damn for the world if he knows I've read it, wondering why I'm taking so long to reply. I anticipate a second text, but nothing comes through. Just a simple message, like a child letting his parents know he's got home safely. We haven't spoke since March 19th, one day before the start of his 2022 season.

I scroll up to the conversation we had that day. A flurry of violent, angry messages. Insults, stories, lies. Both of us saying we never want to talk to one another ever again. But, if you carry on scrolling through our conversations, we've probably said that to each other many, many times. Too many times.

I press the screen again, the keyboard eagerly bouncing back up like it's egging me on. Stella would murder me if she found out I didn't block his number after last time. She's my best friend, and flat mate. We also have the exact same job in the exact same practice, so we're together 24/7. She's a massive hater of the Ferrari driver, purely because of the personal reputation he's given himself.

"This whole, 'woah it's me' thing you've got going on is just fucking ponderous!" Rebecca briefly grabs my attention from my phone.

Short and sweet, just like Charles! Except, I don't think he's about to tell me I'm 'fucking ponderous' for no reason. After all, he's been out of my life for- what- the last 6 months? A very peaceful 6 months, I have to add!