Breaking the Grid

Date

Once Kyra finishes up and we head to the parking lot, it's nearly empty, the post-match excitement fading with the crowd. The quiet evening surrounds us, and I can sense the lingering energy from her game in the way she moves, even if she's trying to act relaxed.

As I drive away, she's quiet, probably expecting we're heading straight back to hers. But when I take a different turn, leading us away from the familiar route, she frowns slightly, leaning forward.

"Blair, I don't live that way," she says, curiosity clear in her voice.

I glance over, smirking. "I know. We're not going to your house."

Her eyebrow raises, but she doesn't question me further. Instead, she settles back into her seat, watching as the city lights fade and the countryside takes over. We pass fields and trees, the air cooling down as we leave London behind. Finally, I pull into a small park near St Albans, hidden away from the main roads.

I turn off the car, and the quiet settles in as the last traces of daylight linger. When I step out, I can feel Kyra's eyes on me from inside the car, her expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

I grin and wave her over. "Come on, it's not a trap."

She hesitates for a moment, giving me a playful, narrowed look before finally stepping out. As we walk toward the park, her footsteps are slow, like she's still trying to figure out what's going on.

"What are you up to, Becks?" she asks, amusement clear in her voice, though there's a hint of genuine curiosity too.

I shrug, nodding toward the kid's play area ahead of us. "Just thought we could take a break, be somewhere quiet."

Kyra shakes her head with a soft laugh. "You're a mystery sometimes, you know that?"

I don't respond immediately, leading us over to the swings. Without a word, I sit down, the chain creaking slightly as I sway. Kyra watches for a moment before taking the swing next to mine, the silence stretching between us.

"I like this place," I say, my voice quiet. "My grandma used to live nearby when I was a kid. Sometimes my dad would leave me with her when he had to go away."

Kyra listens without interruption, her gaze focused on me.

"I was lucky to have her. She made me feel... safe. All my life, people came and went. My dad—he was barely ever home, and when he was, it felt like... I don't know, it felt like he hated me."

I stare at the ground, feeling the dirt shift beneath my feet. Before Kyra can say anything, I continue, the words tumbling out.

"I've never really felt at home anywhere. Not until I met Kimi and his family, I guess. I've never had the time to figure out what I like, who I am, because I was always afraid people would leave." I swallow hard. "But then weeks ago I met you."

Her gaze sharpens, but I still don't look at her. I push the swing gently, trying to soothe the tightening in my chest.

"You make me feel... things I can't even describe. I never thought I'd feel this way about anyone, let alone a footballer. But we're connected in a way that feels different. That night at your house... I was so happy and yet so sad. I felt rejected, and I didn't know what to do."

The swing slows to a stop, and finally, I glance at her, waiting for her response, my heart racing.

Kyra is quiet, her gaze locked onto mine, and the air between us feels thick with unspoken words. I wonder if I've said too much.

But then she reaches over, her hand gently resting on mine where it grips the swing chain. Her touch is soft, grounding. She doesn't look away, her eyes searching mine.