Ocean Drive
Miami — January 2025
Leah discovered very quickly that Miami was dangerous for her self-control.
Not because of the nightlife.
Or the weather.
Or even Elle walking around in tiny summer clothes while Leah emotionally malfunctioned every few hours.
No.
The real issue was that Miami made everything feel strangely possible.
Which was arguably worse.
"You're doing the face again."
Leah looked up from her iced coffee across the breakfast table.
"What face?"
"The one where you start thinking too hard and accidentally spiral."
Rude.
Accurate.
But rude.
They sat outside a café on Ocean Drive beneath bright morning sun while music drifted from somewhere down the street.
Jackson had abandoned them an hour earlier claiming he "refused to third-wheel soulmates."
Humiliating behaviour honestly.
Leah still hadn't recovered emotionally.
"You know what your brother said to me this morning?" Leah muttered.
Elle immediately groaned. "I'm afraid."
"He asked if we were getting a dog together."
Elle physically choked on her coffee laughing.
"Oh my God."
Leah looked traumatised.
"He said—and I quote—'You two already act like divorced parents in a Nancy Meyers film.'"
Unfortunately?
Not entirely inaccurate.
Because somehow in less than a year they'd become terrifyingly domestic.
Leah knowing Elle's coffee order by memory.
Elle automatically checking Arsenal fixtures before booking work.
Tiny habits piling up quietly until suddenly this didn't feel new anymore.
It felt established.
Dangerously so.
"You know what's worse?" Leah continued.
"What?"
"I actually considered the dog question."
That made Elle laugh even harder.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
But then the laughter softened naturally while warm wind moved through the palm trees around them.
And suddenly Leah looked thoughtful again.
"You're thinking."
"I'm always thinking."
"That's deeply concerning."
Leah smiled faintly before reaching across the table, fingers brushing slowly against Elle's wrist.
Tiny touch.
Automatic now.
"I think I'm scared London's going to make me greedy."
The honesty in the sentence settled quietly between them.
Because there it was again.
Fear.
Not of losing Elle anymore.
Of wanting too much from her.
Elle frowned softly. "What do you mean?"
Leah looked down briefly at their hands.
"I think once you're close all the time..." She laughed weakly under her breath. "I'm not going to want you to leave again."
God.
That landed directly in Elle's chest.
Because maybe she felt it too.
These last few months changed something fundamental between them.
Distance no longer felt romantic.
Now it just felt inconvenient.
Elle squeezed Leah's fingers gently.
"We'll figure it out."
Leah looked at her carefully then.
And softer—
"You really see yourself living in London for two months?"
Elle smiled slightly.
"I see myself wanting to try."
The answer settled something restless inside Leah immediately.
Not forever promises.
Not dramatic declarations.
Just effort.
Choice.
Trying.
And somehow that meant more.
Leah stood slowly from her chair then before holding a hand out toward her.
"What?"
"Walk with me."
Twenty minutes later they wandered barefoot along the beach while the ocean rolled softly beside them.
Leah carried their shoes in one hand while the other stayed tangled with Elle's.
And for once nobody recognised her.
No cameras.
No football.
Just sunlight and saltwater and peace.
"You know what's funny?" Elle murmured eventually.
"What?"
"You're quieter here."
Leah smiled to herself.
"Think my nervous system needed Miami."
Fair.
Very fair.
The waves moved around their ankles while afternoon sun warmed Leah's skin and Elle walked beside her like she'd belonged there forever.
Then suddenly Leah stopped walking.
Elle turned slightly.
"What?"
Leah looked almost shy for a second.
Which immediately made Elle nervous.
"You know when you move to London..."
There it was.
That sentence again.
Not if.
When.
Leah rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck.
"I know you're getting your own place."
Elle smiled softly. "Okay..."
"But maybe don't get one too far away from me."
God.
The vulnerability hidden inside that tiny request nearly undid her completely.
Because Leah still asked for closeness so carefully.
Like she was worried wanting people too openly might scare them away.
Elle stepped closer until their foreheads brushed lightly together beneath bright Miami sunlight.
"How far is acceptable?" she whispered softly.
Leah pretended to think very seriously.
"Maximum seven minutes."
"That's psychotic."
"Five if traffic's good."
Elle laughed quietly against her mouth right before Leah kissed her.
Slow.
Warm.
Ocean air and sunlight and happiness wrapped into it.
And somewhere on a beach in Miami, both women quietly realised something terrifyingly certain:
London wasn't going to feel temporary at all.