Page 73 of Last Line of Defense

She watches me in silence for a few seconds that feel like an eternity. I see the emotion welling up in her eyes, her expression softening, and her swallowing hard as she tries to take in the weight of my words.

“Are you proposing to me…? Or is it the caffeine making my head spin?” she asks with a trembling smile, though her fingers squeeze mine tightly.

“I’m proposing that you stop paying rent on this apartment and move everything over to my place,” I blurt out point-blank, without beating around the bush, with the same determination I bring to a one-on-one with the opposing goalkeeper. “My apartment is ten minutes from the sports complex, it has a huge terrace, a room where we could display all your trophies and mine, and, most importantly, it has a bed that’s way bigger than this one. What do you say? Do you dare move in with the league’s most troublesome forward?”

Clara lets out a choked laugh, her cheeks flushed with a lovely blush, and shakes her head as if she can’t believe my audacity.

“You’re one presumptuous girl. Since when do you ask your partner to move in with you like this?”

“Ever since I knew exactly what I wanted. I’m not going to waste a single second,” I reply, winking at her with total swagger.

“All right, I accept,” she says, reaching out to give me a kiss that tastes of coffee and jam. “We’ll move in together. But on one condition: I get to decide how to display all the trophies, because your taste in decor is about as subtle as your runs into the box.”

“Deal,” I say, laughing heartily, feeling like the luckiest woman on the planet.

· · ·

Two hours later, the idyllic atmosphere of the kitchen vanishes the moment we walk through the security gate of Ravenhill FC’s training complex. The rain has stopped, leaving the asphalt gleaming and the scent of wet earth filling the air. We decide to enter separately to avoid fueling the club’s gossip, but the main hallway is already a hive of whispers.

I run into Alba at the entrance to the locker rooms. She looks at me with an ear-to-ear smile and gives me a subtle nudge in the ribs.

“What a killer goal you scored yesterday at the gym. The girls are still talking about that play,” she teases me in a low voice.

“Cut the crap—we have a video session today, and I’m not in the mood for jokes,” I reply, trying to keep a straight face, though my smile gives me away.

I head to my locker, quickly change into my practice gear, and step out into the hallway, planning to stop by the treatment room to talk to Iván and ask him about the results of the latest tests. But as I approach the office area, I see Julián coming out of his office. He’s carrying a folder under his arm, his jaw set, and wearing that stern expression that doesn’t bode well. As soon as he sees me, he gives me a curt nod.

“Alicia. Just the person I was looking for. Come into my office, please. And you too, Clara,” he says, raising his voice toward the end of the hallway, where I see Clara standing.

I feel the adrenaline surge through me instantly. I assume a defensive stance, clenching my fists inside the pockets of my club sweatshirt. Clara, looking at me, conveys absolute serenity with her eyes—a silent message urging me to stay calm and keep a cool head.

We both enter the office. It’s a spacious room with enormous windows offering a perfect panoramic view of the training fields. Julián takes his place behind his imposing wooden desk, slams the folder down on the table, and crosses his arms, watching us with a seriousness that feels oppressive.

“I suppose you can guess the reason for this meeting,” he begins, his icy voice echoing off the office walls. “What happened yesterday afternoon at the gym was a disgraceful spectacle from the standpoint of club discipline.”

“There was nothing disgraceful about it, Director,” I cut him off immediately, stepping forward with an indomitable arrogance that wells up from deep within me. I feel Clara give me a light nudge with her foot to shut me up, but I don’t give a damn. “It was a natural gesture between two adults. We weren’t breaking any rules. Besides, Clara doesn’t work here anymore.”

“Alicia, shut up and let me speak!” Julián orders, raising his voice as he taps the table with his index finger. “The club has multimillion-dollar sponsorship contracts tied to the public image of its stars. The exclusive interview you gave the press two days ago has already caused a stir among the board of directors, but the fact that Clara is wandering around here as she pleases when she’s no longer part of the club is a flagrant violation of our security and privacy protocols. How am I supposed to justify your behavior to the rest of the team? What’s more, what will the rest of your teammates think of all this? I have to enforce strict rules for everyone.”

Julián’s words cut through the office like daggers. I know that, from a purely business standpoint, he’s partly right, but the cold, corporate way he lays out the problems turns my stomach. I’m about to fire back with one of my trademark retorts—the kind that would cost me a fine—when Clara steps forward, positioning herself a hand’s breadth in front of me.

“Julián, you’re absolutely right about my visits and my behavior,” Clara says in a measured, firm voice, devoid of any hint of anger or fear. The sporting director looks at her, surprised by her composure. “I took the liberty of using my seniority at this club to come in and see her, but I promise it won’t happen again. I won’t allow anyone to cast doubt on Ravenhill FC’s integrity, nor will I jeopardize Alicia’s career or that of the other girls. I’m the first one who wants this club to be at the top of the league.”

Julián looks at her intently and then turns his gaze to me.

“As for you, I hope you channel all that energy and anger onto the field. The best way to honor the decision Clara made and everything you said in that interview is by proving that you’re the best forward in the country. I don’t want to see a single distraction in training this week. Is that clear?”

“You’re going to have to hire a new maintenance worker to fix the goal nets, Director. Because I plan to tear every one of them to shreds,” I assure him in a voice brimming with the promise of goals.

“You can go now. And don’t be late for the video session, or Hugo will be climbing the walls.”

As we both leave the office and I walk Clara back to the sports complex parking lot, the walk unfolds in a silence heavy with emotion. When we reach her car, she turns toward me, leaning against the side of it. Rain is threatening to fall again from the sky, but I couldn’t care less. I wrap my arms around her waist with a desperate need, burying my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent with such force that she almost loses her balance.

“Listen to me carefully,” Clara says, cupping my face with both hands and forcing me to look her straight in the eye. Her smile is wide, radiant, devoid of any hint of regret. “Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean we won’t see each other anymore. You’ve asked me to move in with you, so I promise that, from now on, you’re going to get sick of seeing my face and hearing me nag you every time you tell me your knee hurts.”

I look into her dark eyes—so clear and full of light—and feel my heart skip a beat with pure happiness. The unease melts away, giving way to a mischievous smile that I can no longer—and no longer want to—hide.

“Get in the car now and go pack everything up. We have an official move to organize and an entire league to win. Because if you think that by leaving the club, you’re going to stop working, you’re crazy. I want us to keep doing this together.”