Woso one shots

𝗘𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗮 𝗗𝗲 𝗔𝗹𝗺𝗲𝗶𝗱𝗮 ➻ 𝗟𝗼𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗜𝗻

The rain beat against the ground, creating a rhythmic melody that blended with the sound of cleats on the pitch. Elisa and I were the last to leave the field, soaked to the bone after an exhausting training session. The other girls had already left, swept away by the promise of a well-deserved rest and a hearty dinner. We lingered a bit longer, warmed by the effort and relishing the tranquillity of the moment. The taste of sweat and rain on our lips testified to our commitment, while the scent of wet grass reminded us of the beauty of the sport, even under a grey sky.

Once inside the changing room, the drier air enveloped us like a gentle embrace. I let out a sigh as I removed my cleats, placing them carefully at my feet, and collapsed onto the bench. I exchanged a glance with Elisa, and a knowing smile flickered between us, a smile shared by those who had just given their all in an intense session. Slowly, I peeled off my drenched clothes, feeling the moisture dissipate as I shed the weight of the rain.

After undressing, I made my way to the shower, where the scalding spray of water revived me. My muscles relaxed under the soothing heat, my shoulders finally lowering as if the water washed away the fatigue and tension of the training. It was then that Elisa arrived, also seeking that well-deserved comfort, a serene smile on her face. She took her place under the adjacent spray, closing her eyes, enjoying, like me, the warmth that chased away the rain and fatigue.

After a few minutes of floating in this gentle stupor, I stepped out of the shower, my skin still flushed from the heat. I walked over to the bench where my clean clothes were and, as I slipped them on, a feeling of lightness enveloped me, as if every fibre of my body was breathing again. Just then, as I pulled on my t-shirt, Elisa emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel, making her way to the bench to get dressed, a conspiratorial smile on her lips.

I finished getting ready at a leisurely pace, taking my time to savour this moment of comfort, and once dressed, I bent down to lace my shoes. Ready to leave, I cast one last glance at Elisa, giving her a small wave as a goodbye. Our eyes met, and without a word, we shared that moment of post-effort calm. Then, I headed towards the door to leave the changing room.

Reaching the door, I placed my hand on the handle and gently pressed down, anticipating the familiar sensation of the door opening before me. However, it remained stubbornly shut. Frowning, I tried again, this time pushing a little harder. Still, nothing budged. A wave of disbelief washed over me, followed by a shiver of apprehension, like a cold breath amidst the warmth of the changing room. My heart quickened slightly, a hint of worry settling in.

I turned to Elisa, my hand gripping the handle, and murmured, perplexed, "Elisa, the door is stuck." My tone betrayed a mix of surprise and unease, searching her gaze for a glimmer of a solution or reassurance.

Elisa, who was busy packing her things into her bag, turned to me with a sceptical expression on her face. "What? Let me try," she said, stepping towards the door with determination, as if she doubted we were really stuck. I stepped aside, releasing the handle to give her space. She grabbed it confidently and pulled with all her might, but despite her efforts, the door remained stubbornly shut. An irritated sigh escaped her, her gaze flickering between frustration and disbelief, as if the situation had suddenly grown more serious than she had initially thought. "Looks like you're not kidding," she finally replied, a glimmer of realism breaking through her initial scepticism.

"I told you! It's stuck," I insisted, the tension rising in my voice. "What are we going to do now?" Elisa sighed and walked over to the bench, sitting down with a contemplative look. "I guess we'll just have to wait. But I bet someone will figure it out eventually."