DESPERATE & DIVINE

old feelings, new realities

Summer, 2022.

After a long goodbye to my family and my boyfriend, it's surprising how light I feel when the car pulls up to the Lensbury for our stay during the Euros. Maybe it's the relief of stepping away from the pressure, the outside opinions, or just the comfort of knowing I'll be surrounded by the rest of the girls, all of us fully aware of what this tournament could mean if we play our cards right. The last camp had felt like magic, our bond tighter than ever, and I knew deep down, this time felt different. Walking into the reception, greeted by the England staff, it feels right—like everything is falling into place.

Elaine, our accommodation coordinator, beams as she preps my key card.

"Lucky you, rooming with the skipper," she says casually, handing over the card, and I hate how my heart skips a beat at the mention of it.

Sarina greets me with an amused grin, teasing that I'm the last to arrive as usual but assures me we have a team dinner later to help settle in.

In the lift, I check my phone and see our team group chat flooded with messages—pictures of rooms, selfies with roommates, the usual banter. As I drag my suitcase down the hall to my door—mine and Leah's door—a flutter of nerves hits me.

I open the door, and Leah's smile greets me immediately as she's mid-unpacking.

"Ah, they told me I was rooming with the hottest girl on the squad," she says smoothly, making it impossible to hide my smile.

"Did you just assume it'd be you on your own then?" I fire back, earning a giggle from her.

Without missing a beat, she opens her arms wide.

"Get over here."

I don't even think, I'm too excited, too wired with what-ifs, dreams, and the feeling that we're on the edge of something big. I run and leap into her arms. She catches me effortlessly, laughing as my legs wrap around her waist. It's spontaneous, but it feels right.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were excited to see me, Franks," she says with affection, setting me down gently.

As I look at her—standing there, proud and effortlessly charming—my face aches from the smile I can't seem to control. I've missed her. It's something I always carry, this quiet, constant feeling that's so familiar it feels normal. But in moments like this, when I'm finally with her again, I realise just how much I really do feel it.

"I always am," I reply, my voice soft but sincere.

~

The days leading up to the knockout games were a blur of intense training, team meetings, and adrenaline that thrummed beneath my skin. Each morning, we hit the pitch with laser focus, every drill feeling like we were sharpening ourselves for something monumental. Training had never felt better—we were cohesive, fluid, like every pass, every run was second nature. I felt myself excelling, feeding off the energy of the girls, and especially Leah.

We were getting closer, naturally spending more time together, whether it was during tactical sessions, cooling down in the gym, or simply winding down in our shared room. She had this way of making everything feel lighter, easier. After long, gruelling sessions, we'd collapse in the room and laugh about nothing and everything, the tension of the tournament easing in those quiet moments. But it was also those moments that made me remember—made me feel things I hadn't let myself feel in years.

I thought I'd buried it when I was 19, those feelings I had for her. We were just kids, really, and Leah was one of my closest friends. Back then, I couldn't stop thinking about her. The way she smiled, the way she could light up a room just by walking into it. I caught myself falling for her, hard, but I forced myself to push it down, to shove it deep enough that it wouldn't matter. She was my friend, and that was enough. It had to be.