Breaking the Grid

Gameday

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After an exhausting day filled with phone calls with Robert my media agent, and dealing with contracts, I finally dropped Kimi off at the airport. He was heading back to Italy for three or four days before the Melbourne GP, which left me with a bit of breathing room. I was ready to relax, maybe take a long shower, but the second I stepped into my house and dropped my bag by the door, the doorbell rang.

I frowned, not expecting anyone. Suspicion pricked at me, but I shrugged it off, heading toward the door. When I opened it, a delivery man stood there holding a small box in one hand.

"Blair Becks?" he asked, barely making eye contact.

"That's me," I answered, ready to ask what it was, but before I could get another word in, he tossed the box into my hands and turned on his heel, walking off without so much as a goodbye.

"Rude," I muttered, staring after him for a second before closing the door.

I couldn't remember buying anything recently, and sponsors usually gave me a heads-up before sending stuff. Still, curiosity got the better of me. I set the box down on the couch and grabbed my usual post-workout smoothie from the table—nasty as ever but essential. Taking a sip, I opened the package, and the first thing I noticed was the familiar Arsenal logo.

"Huh," I thought, raising an eyebrow as I pulled out a small box inside. I flipped open the top and found a neatly folded red Arsenal shirt. The vibrant red, combined with the clean white sleeves, made it look just as amazing as I'd imagined. A smile tugged at my lips—it wasn't just any shirt. I set it beside me, careful not to wrinkle it, and glanced at the clock. I had about an hour before I needed to leave for the stadium.

I placed my phone on the charger, quickly stripped off my workout clothes, and headed upstairs for a shower. It wasn't long before I was stepping out, refreshed and feeling a little more alive. I towel-dried my hair, brushed it out, and then returned to the shirt waiting on my bed.

The moment I slipped it on, it felt... special. It fit perfectly, and the fabric was soft but sturdy, just the right mix of comfort and performance. Before heading out, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and turned to check the back. That's when I saw it—the name on the back.

A grin spread across my face. It was cute, and something about it made my heart lift a little more.

Snapping out of my daze, I realized time was ticking. I grabbed my bag, slipped on a pair of sneakers, and quickly checked my reflection one more time. The shirt looked amazing on me. I didn't even try to tone down the grin now—it felt good to be going out for something fun after such a long day.

Locking the door behind me, I made my way to the car. The streets were buzzing with fans heading to the game, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of thrill bubbling up inside me. Arsenal games always had that electric energy, and I was looking forward to being part of it tonight, especially in this shirt.

I'm finally at the stadium, and the night is colder than I expected. The rain had just stopped minutes ago, leaving the air crisp and damp. As I make my way inside, I'm immediately struck by the energy buzzing through the place. The atmosphere is electric, and it's that unmistakable mix of excitement and tension before a big game.

Since I was a kid, I've always loved watching sports. But I didn't get many chances to attend games like this. My life was consumed with training, racing, and more training—all because of my dad's expectations. So, being here, in a stadium with thousands of people, it feels almost surreal. It's a strange but thrilling change.

I make my way to the family and friends box, my VIP pass getting me through security with ease. As I approach, I notice four or five people already seated. By the names on their shirts, I can tell they're here for Katie. I offer them a nod as I pass, and they smile politely, but it's clear they don't know who I am—not that I expected them to.