Best Mistake ︱Pedri González

77

Luciana's POV

I made my way to the track, nerves buzzing through my body. Today was big—the 100m semifinals. Top two from each race would make it to the finals, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of that pressure. But I was ready. I'd trained for this moment, and even though the 200m was my specialty, I wasn't going to let that stop me from giving it everything here.

As I stepped up to my lane, I caught a glimpse of the stands. Gavi, Jude, Frenkie, and Camavinga were all there, their faces lit up with excitement. I could see Gavi bouncing on his feet, talking animatedly with Jude, who had that familiar British swagger even from a distance. The sight of them gave me a little boost of energy—my own personal cheering squad.

I shook out my arms and legs, getting into position as the starter called us to the blocks. Heart racing, I focused on the track ahead of me, blocking out everything else. This was it.

The gun went off.

I exploded out of the blocks, legs pumping as hard as they could. The competition was fierce—every sprinter next to me was fighting just as hard for one of those two spots in the final. For the first half of the race, we were all neck and neck. I could feel the tension in my muscles, the burning in my lungs, but I kept pushing.

As we approached the final meters, I could see the runner in first pulling ahead slightly. My legs were screaming, but I pushed just enough to edge out the sprinter in third place, crossing the line in second.

I threw my arms up, breathing hard as I slowed down, feeling a mixture of relief and satisfaction wash over me. Second place wasn't bad at all. I'd made it to the finals.

As I caught my breath, I could hear shouting from the stands.

"THAT'S MY GIRL!" Gavi was practically jumping out of his seat, cursing loud enough for everyone to hear. "FUCK YEAH SHES IN THE FINALS!!!"

Jude was right there with him, his British accent cutting through the air. "LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO, LUCI!"

I laughed, hearing their voices from the track. Heads were turning toward them, and I saw some of the crowd glancing over at the boys, but they couldn't have cared less. Gavi was still yelling, probably cursing, and Jude was grinning like a madman, clapping furiously. Even Frenkie was standing, hands cupped around his mouth as he cheered. It made my heart swell.

Still panting, I turned to one of the other runners who had come in third, and we shared a quick moment.

"Congrats," she said with a smile, still catching her breath. "That was a tough race."

"Yeah," I nodded, "Thanks. You too. I'll see you in the 200m tomorrow?"

She nodded, and we shared a knowing smile. The 200m was my event, and I was already feeling the anticipation for tomorrow's race. I'd done well today, but I knew my focus had to shift.

As I headed off the track, wiping the sweat from my forehead, something on the big screen in the stadium caught my attention. "SPECIAL GUESTS" flashed across it, and my eyes widened as I saw their faces—Gavi, Jude, Camavinga, and Frenkie, all grinning like idiots. The camera zoomed in on them as the crowd started buzzing with excitement.

"Of course they'd get shown on the big screen," I muttered, shaking my head with a small smile. They didn't even look embarrassed. Gavi waved at the camera, looking as cocky as ever, while Jude and Camavinga laughed beside him.

Once I was off the track and met up with them, Gavi practically tackled me into a hug.

"You absolute legend!" he shouted, still high on adrenaline. "Finals, baby!"