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Evenings followed a similarly predictable pattern.Unless training ran late, they got ready for bed around eleven, catching up on messages and reading for a few minutes before one of them turned off the light and the other followed suit shortly after.
While Lee always needed some twenty minutes to fall asleep, Alex seemed to drop off almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, his breathing evening out within moments. Lucky bastard.
Except—not tonight.
Half an hour after they’d mumbled goodnight, Alex was still tossing and turning, taking quiet, shallow breaths on the other side of the room. Lee could have ignored it. They had their first match the next day, though, and they weren’t friends, but they were … teammates, at least, and there was an understanding between them built on nearly two weeks of sharing a space.
Damnit.
“Alex,” Lee muttered into the darkness.
“Sorry, am I—” Alex shifted to face Lee, the whites of his eyes just visible. “I’m bothering you, aren’t I? Sorry. I’ll stop moving around.”
“That’s not…” Lee sighed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Lee stayed silent, waiting.
“Just thinking.”
Right. Lee let Alex’s words hang in the air for a moment before he nodded against the pillow, keeping his voice light. “Nervous, then?”
Alex inhaled sharply, then released the air in a whoosh. For a second, it seemed as though he wouldn’t reply. “Yeah,” he admitted.
Lee remembered how four years ago, he’d been just as nervous before the first match that had ended in a tie. All players had been in individual rooms back then, no one he could have confided in even if he’d wanted to, and in the end, it didn’t really matter that he’d had a bad night’s rest because he’d watched the entire match from the bench.
Alex would be playing—probably, almost certainly—and Lee needed him sharp. Good thing he had plenty of practice talking his sisters down from a variety of mental ledges.
“Perfectly normal that you’re nervous,” he told Alex, propping himself up on one elbow to show he was paying attention, yet leaving the light off to keep the shadows between them. Velvety night air filled the room through the balcony door they’d left partially open. “Wanna talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” Alex asked, but he didn’t sound contrarian, just a little lost. “I just have to get over it, don’t I?”
Sure, because that’s how feelings worked. Not.
Lee hummed. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“Is that supposed to be helpful?” Alex scoffed. “We lose. And I don’t play. Or I do, but I make an idiot of myself and prove my parents right.”
If Lee hadn’t been camped out in his very own glasshouse, he’d suggest that Alex could benefit from talking to someone about his bi-parental baggage. As it was, he left it at a nod. “Okay. And what’s the best thing that could happen?”
“We win, and I’m part of it.”
“And what’s more likely?”
“The Dutch are a good team. And they’ve got way more experience than we do.” Alex drew an audible breath. “Their playmaker has, like, a hundred international matches under his belt for the national team—I’ve got four. Even if I play—”
“You will,” Lee interrupted. Rude? Yes. Necessary? Also yes.
It seemed to do the trick because Alex shut up for a second, clearly redirecting his runaway thoughts. “How do you know?”
“Because you train hard and you’re really fucking good. Kieran is the kind of coach who rewards that even if you’re young and new. Also…” Lee let a deliberate smirk creep into his voice. “I will most definitely be playing, and you complement me well. So, you’re welcome.”
Alex’s quiet laugh melted into the night. “Modesty suits you.”
“It’s just one of my many attractive qualities.”
Another laugh, and Lee found himself tucking a smile into the palm of his hand. For a moment, comfortable silence settled, distant noises filtering in from outside—a car passing somewhere further away and people talking in the hotel garden, too low to make out more than the rise and fall of Spanish voices.
