One decision can change everything.
Frankie Jagger's unexpected transfer to Arsenal for the 23/24 season sets off a chain reaction that shakes her world to its core. As she navigates the fallout of a career that feels like it's in ruins, she realise...
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As I approach the local bar where the team gathering is taking place, my heart pounds with anxiety. It's been over a month since I joined Arsenal, and it's safe to say it's been a turbulent start. The breakdown I had a few days ago still lingers in my mind, and I've been avoiding everyone since. The thought of facing Katie, the only one who knows about my little spiral, makes my stomach churn with nerves. But Kim and Leah have organised this gathering for drinks, food, and bonding before the season kicks off in a week, so I know I can't hide away forever. With a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside, bracing myself for whatever the night may bring.
"Hello, hot stuff!" Steph's voice rings out as I walk into the bar, and I smile at her playful greeting. I'm relieved that she and Beth are the first ones near the door, their familiar faces a comfort amidst my swirling emotions. They both look stunning, a refreshing change from the usual kit with their hair scraped back. Steph exudes effortless style in a light-coloured suit, her hair cascading in waves around her. As they eye me up and down, Beth lets out a mighty wolf whistle, drawing attention from the lounge area. My cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Steph's hand on my shoulder offers a sense of reassurance.
"What do you want to drink?" she asks, her smile warm and inviting.
"Just a glass of white wine, please," I reply, trying to relax as we head to the bar.
As we linger there, engaged in a light-hearted catch-up, I make a conscious effort to avoid glancing over at the group seated in the cluster of sofas in the middle of the room. A quick scan reveals Leah, Jen, Lia, and Laura among them, but I force myself to focus on Steph and the conversation at hand. The last thing I want is to draw attention or give away the anxiety simmering just below the surface.
However, a familiar Scottish accent calling my name breaks through my unease. "Frankie! There you are!"
I make my way over to Kim, who's sitting at the bar, and we clink our wine glasses together. "Look at you," I remark appreciatively, "Quite the pocket rocket, aren't you?"
