Stay Away

a victor once more

I linger by the players' exit, this time without having to hide my face.

Fleur's eyes look sore, as though she has harshly rubbed at them, and her gaze is fixed on the floor. She is in the midst of a protective crowd of her teammates, their hair wet and faces scrubbed clean from the sweat coating their skin after a cut-throat match.

Briefly, she looks up at me. We both know that I am not here for her. The smile she gives me is understanding. She nods at Viv, who is dressed in her own clothes as if to highlight her absence from the team even more. Viv has joined the solemn huddle with a welcoming hug to Fleur's miserable body.

I glance at the sign pointing towards a disabled bathroom, believing, for a moment, that the sickening guilt pooling at the back of my throat is truly going to have me running to a toilet soon. Swallowing hard as I watch my sister make her way to the team bus, I force myself to stay put. This is where I agreed to meet Leah, and this is where I will be when she comes cheering her way out of her changing room.

Unsurprisingly, I hear them all before I see them; their shouting is loud enough to be heard from the stadium's nosebleeds, I suspect.

Leah is grinning as she rounds the corner, and wastes no time in diverging from the gaggle of England players to wrap her arms around my waist. I try not to blush as the onlookers hoot and wolf whistle at their beloved captain. She doesn't seem affected by it.

Noticing the way my lips have pressed themselves together in a flat line (a precaution from my earlier wave of nausea), she dampens her mood. "Is she alright?" she questions in reference to Fleur, maybe only caring because I seem sad about it. "I..."

I don't want to hear her apologise for not believing me. Or, rather, thinking I was exaggerating. "Now you understand," I reply, shrugging. "I know my sister better than anyone, Leah."

"I know," she breathes against my lips. I lean in slowly, instinctively wanting to greet her with a kiss, but she pulls back. The place is not crowded but is still busy, with a river of people making their way out. They move at a sluggish pace, affected by the way some of the Lionesses pause when they get to a particularly well-known bit of the song blasting out of the speaker Georgia is holding. It gives them the perfect opportunity to look at what is happening between us.

At my quiet huff of offence, Leah furrows her eyebrows. "You can't have told her yet."

"This won't do any harm," I state confidently enough for Leah to agree, blinded by her own desire to point out my hypocrisy.

She doesn't need to be told twice, and though the kiss is quick, it is a clear promise for what is to come later.

"Tell Marcus that he doesn't need to take you back to London tonight."

"He will only book a hotel room," I inform her, becoming increasingly more knowledgeable, through my driver, about his contact with Juan. He is, essentially, babysitting me. Juan trusts him to take me from A to B safely.

"Fine with me." Her forehead rests against mine, a hand cupping my cheek, keeping our eyes locked together. "I've told Sarina that I've had to sort my gran out and that I'll get a taxi back to the hotel we're at. We're allowed to go to the pub next door tonight."

I laugh softly. "Sarina is not stupid, Leah." She rolls her eyes at my lack of faith in her story-making capabilities, though it has been proven to be the correct stance on the matter time and time again. She is not very good at lying. She gets too awkward. "I will call a taxi for us. Are we making any stops?"

"Well..."

Due to my self-control and her underestimation at how much the game drained out of her, the taxi ride is tame. The furthest anything goes is a cheekily placed hand high up on my thigh. I retain my five star Uber rating.