Loved
Leah woke to the smell of coffee.
And something else.
Laughter.
Real laughter.
She walked barefoot into the apartment wearing one of Elle's oversized hoodies, her hair still a mess from sleep.
Elle sat at the kitchen island with Christian.
Both of them were looking at a phone.
Both of them trying—and failing—not to laugh.
Leah frowned.
"Why are you both looking at me like that?"
Christian slid the phone across the counter.
"We've got a situation."
Leah picked it up.
Immediately regretted it.
There she was.
Again.
The photo from the basketball game.
Only this time it wasn't just on Instagram.
It was everywhere.
Sports pages.
Entertainment pages.
Lifestyle magazines.
Even American outlets had picked it up.
Leah groaned.
"I literally went to watch basketball."
Christian grinned.
"No."
He pointed at the screen.
"You went looking disgustingly in love."
Elle burst out laughing.
Leah looked deeply offended.
"We were sitting down."
"You were looking at her."
"I always look at her."
"Exactly."
Fair.
Very fair.
Leah scrolled further.
Videos.
Photos.
Fan accounts.
Someone had zoomed in on a moment where Elle whispered something into her ear before Leah laughed so hard she'd leaned into her shoulder.
Another showed Leah absent-mindedly rubbing circles on the back of Elle's hand while they watched the game.
Neither of them had realised they were doing it.
Someone had captioned it:
Leah looked across the island at Elle.
"We're obvious."
Elle smiled over her coffee.
"We've always been obvious."
"No."
"We have."
"We were subtle."
Christian physically laughed.
"You two have the self-awareness of golden retrievers."
Traitor.
Absolute traitor.
Leah shook her head.
"I blame New York."
"You blame New York?"
"I forgot people own cameras."
"Leah..."
Elle reached across the island and took her hand.
"You forgot because you were happy."
Silence.
Real silence.
Because that...
That was true.
Leah hadn't been thinking about football.
Or fame.
Or England.
Or Arsenal.
She'd simply been on a date with the woman she loved.
And somewhere along the way she'd forgotten the world might be watching.
Strangely...
She didn't regret it.
Christian stood, collecting his empty mug.
"I'm heading out."
He pointed between them.
"Try not to accidentally become front-page news today."
"No promises," Elle replied.
After the apartment door closed, the room became quiet again.
Leah leaned against the kitchen counter.
"You know..."
She looked back at the phone.
"I thought this would bother me."
Elle tilted her head.
"The attention?"
Leah nodded.
"I spent years protecting my private life."
She smiled softly.
"And I still want that."
She looked at Elle.
"But..."
"But?"
"I don't mind people knowing I'm loved."
The words hung gently between them.
Because there it was.
The biggest difference.
She wasn't trying to make a statement.
She wasn't trying to prove anything.
She was simply living.
Openly.
Honestly.
Elle walked over until she was standing between Leah's feet.
"You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think the world spent years seeing England captain Leah Williamson."
She rested both hands on Leah's waist.
"And now..."
She smiled.
"They're finally getting to meet Leah."
Leah laughed quietly.
"I'm considerably less impressive."
"I disagree."
Leah slipped her arms around Elle automatically.
"You have to say that."
"I really don't."
They stayed like that for a while.
No phones.
No headlines.
Just the soft hum of New York outside the apartment windows.
Then Leah looked down with a grin.
"So..."
Elle immediately became suspicious.
"What?"
"We've accidentally gone viral..."
"Yes..."
"I feel like we should probably give them something else to talk about."
Elle raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Leah smiled innocently.
"Let's disappear."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
She shrugged.
"Coney Island."
"A ferry."
"A museum."
"Anywhere nobody expects the England captain to be."
Elle laughed.
"You realise that's impossible now."
Leah pretended to think about it.
Then smiled.
"Good."
"Good?"
She nodded.
"As long as I'm with you..."
She leaned forward, kissing her gently.
"...I don't really mind where they find us."
Outside, another article appeared.
Another photograph circulated.
Another discussion filled social media.
But inside the apartment, neither of them noticed.
For the first time in years, Leah Williamson had stopped living for the next headline.
She had finally started living for the moments in between.