Hold Me Close

possible enjoyment

I don't like it one bit.

First of all, she shouldn't be so nice to me. Secondly, it's hard not to be nice back.

We start talking about simple things, like tactics and technique. It's hard to avoid the conversations because of how much time we are spending together. Our sessions with Jonatan have increased in frequency as of yesterday. It is necessary because we aren't actually playing in the matches anymore. He confesses to us that he thinks some of the players need the extra minutes to solidify their places in the World Cup squads.

Sharing the bench during the last home match of the season, I find that Alexia's internal commentary spills into audible words that land right in my ear. By the second half, we are deep in conversation about the half-time talk managers must give their teams when they are nil-nil with Barcelona. They must break out the champagne, is what I tell her. She complains that the league isn't competitive enough.

And I don't let myself think about it too much until Jaimie points it out the day after the match. She had gone to the stadium with Juan, but was disappointed when I wasn't playing until the sixty-third minute. Her disinterest in the game meant she was focused on our technical area. On Alexia and I. "You enjoy talking to her," she shouts as I cycle faster to get away from the conversation.

Unfortunately for me, she's also an athlete. She catches up to me quickly, nearly taking out an elderly couple as she whizzes down the narrow street. "Perdón," I call out to the affronted old woman, turning around to give her an apologetic smile. Her husband laughs. Maybe it is the most exciting thing that has happened to them today. (Or maybe it was my accent.)

She stops us at a café that is around a kilometre from the end point, Plaça Espanya. The route is a short loop of the city, only taking us an hour and a half to cycle the twenty-six kilometres. "Let's sit down and discuss this properly, okay?" is her reasoning, fed up of having to chase after me every time I try to defend having professional, tactical, work-related conversations with a woman I still feel very strongly towards. Against.

We get coffee and sit outside, both cooling down after sprinting the last few minutes. Her mouth is occupied by her cappuccino for a peaceful segment of our break, until there is only a third left and she seems to want to continue following up on what she saw yesterday.

"I'm just indebted to her, Jai," I explain, munching on the pastry she bought me. "It was nice of her to do that for me in Sevilla, and she is my captain. Plus, Talia is now playing so I have no one to talk to when I am relaxing on the bench." The twenty-year-old is close to getting a call-up for the next Spanish camp, and she is certain that she wants to try it out before Mapi can fully convince her that she will be traumatised.

"And we're just skipping past the fact that 'that' was holding you until you fell asleep?" Her words cut through the air like daggers that will blind me if I look at her, so I keep my eyes trained on the metal table. She kicks my shin. "This is getting a bit ridiculous now. It's not illegal to change your opinion on her."

"I don't want to be friends with her though." And if I don't want that, then the option of relationship is clear to me. Enemies can talk to each other. There aren't rules.

"I saw her outside the apartment this morning, you know," Jaimie begins, as if it is some revelation that Alexia takes the stairs and has to walk in front of my door to get to the next flight. "No, Flootz. She was lingering. I asked her if she wanted me to get you, and, to be honest, I think she considered it."

"Yet she said no," I state, point proven. She still feels the same. It's a mutual hatred. A mutual passion for not liking one another.

"Her phone rang, and she walked off. Told me to enjoy our bike ride, though." Jaimie raises her eyebrows, wiping the smugness off my face in an instant. "How did she know we were going cycling today, hm?"