𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣, pedri

❝ strategy sets the scene for the tale. ❞
⇄ ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹ ↻

I grab my training bag and walk to Pablo. "I'll bring the car out, meet me at the door." I tell him. He gives me a thumbs up as he changes clothes.

We just finished training. Our best training yet, might I add. I finally figured out what was wrong with my kick, well Olive did — She also fixed most of everyones tiny mistakes. Even though she isn't an actual coach, she really analyzed everything in a matter of minutes and was able to fix issues.

I knew she was smart. I knew she was extremely, majorly smart. But she's just proven to me that Einstein has nothing on her. And it's not just the brain she's given, she actually uses it. I was smart at school, definitely not even close to her level but I was considered smart, I just never use my brain honestly.

I'm just street smart. She's got both smarts and even more. She's really blowing my mind. And everyone else's.

I'm walking to my car right now as I get distracted thinking about Olive's IQ, completely forgetting to tell her I was out of the locker room and headed to my car.

I grab my phone and text her instead of walking all the way back.

i'm in the car
will be waiting for u and pablo just outside

deal

She answers immediately. Not surprised, she's probably sitting in our break room, on her phone waiting for me.

I get the keys of the car out once I spot it and turn it on walking closer and closer. The car makes its beeping sound proving it's on before I open the trunk, throw in my bag and walk to the driver seat.

I drive out of the parking and wait for the two of them outside the main entry. Olive's the first one to make her way out.

I watch as she walks towards me, smirking when she notices me. Her hair dances in the wind, and with each sway of her hips, I couldn't help but smile. Even the way she walks is powerful.

I unlock the car seconds before she opens the door to the seat next to mine. She climbs up and sits comfortably.

"What'd you think of the team?" I start up the conversation.

She buckles her seatbelt, and moves the hair falling in front of her face to the back before turning to look at me. "You're not half bad." She shrugs.

"Half bad? We're fucking Barca. We're the best."

"Freaking men and their freaking egos." She rolls her eyes. I chuckle.

"If I don't think we're the best, how will we ever be the best?" I point out. Every sportsman has to think he's the best in order to actually become the best.

"Okay. Valid point." She chuckles in her turn. I honestly thought she'd argue.

She takes her phone out and I watch as she types away on that thing, super fast might I add. A tiny smile grows in the corner of her mouth and I watch her trying to hold back a chuckle.

Who's she texting?

I don't even notice myself staring at her the whole time until she speaks up. "Take a picture. Might last longer." She turns her phone off again, and places it in her back pocket.