The First Move #3
I blink a couple of times, completely thrown off by the direct attack.
“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”
She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with cold air before continuing in a firm voice.
“You saw this morning in the locker room that rumors at this club spread way too fast for us to mess around. And it turns out Lara Montes spends a lot of time around here. I’m no idiot, Clara. I can spot from a mile away when two people share an intimate history.”
It takes me exactly two seconds to process the meaning of her comment. And when I do, I feel something incredibly strange, warm, and delightful churning violently inside my stomach. Alicia Puertas is green with envy.
That revelation should have made me laugh or come up with a witty retort.
Instead, it leaves me completely speechless and my throat dry.
Because beneath all her layers of irony, beneath her constant provocation, there’s genuine concern and a latent feeling that I find more unsettling than any of her taunts.
“Lara is one of my best friends,” I explain calmly, taking an imperceptible step toward her so she doesn’t get wet.
“We were together in the club’s youth divisions; we shared locker rooms, victories, and defeats that were very hard to take.
Now she’s happily married to Adrián, the brother of…
well, never mind, that’s another story. There’s absolutely nothing romantic between us, Alicia.
Just that blind trust that comes with years. ”
Alicia nods once, keeping a serious expression on her face, as if my explanation did absolutely nothing to ease the sting to her pride.
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to explain your private life to me.”
“It does matter, Alicia,” I insist, taking another decisive step forward, drawing her under the shelter of my umbrella.
“It matters because I don’t want you to misinterpret what you see in the club’s hallways under any circumstances.
And because, even though it kills me to admit it…
I care a lot about what you think of me. ”
She instantly takes a step back, stepping just outside the umbrella’s protective radius. The fine raindrops begin to wet her bangs again and slide quickly down her flushed cheeks.
“Don’t do that, Clara…” she whispers to me, her voice slightly broken.
“What? What am I doing?”
Her smile in response is small. Tired. Dangerously real and stripped of all cockiness.
“Looking at me with those eyes when we both know perfectly well that this should have been nipped in the bud right where it started. What happened the other day in the showers was a huge mistake on both our parts, wasn’t it?
Just a moment of physical weakness. You’re the club’s physical therapist; I’m the star player under your care.
There are strict rules at Ravenhill—professional boundaries that must never be crossed under any circumstances if we want to keep our careers afloat. ”
A thick, heavy silence suddenly settles between us, broken only by the constant patter of rain against the umbrella, and I’m left with no way to break it.
Because I know Alicia is absolutely right.
Because exactly what she just said is the most sensible and mature thing we should do.
Because continuing down this forbidden path can only end in absolute disaster for both of us.
But my heart, rebellious and incorrigible, beats fiercely, screaming at me to do the exact opposite.
“Alicia…” I begin, taking a step toward her with my free hand outstretched.
She shakes her head firmly and raises a hand in the air, stopping me in my tracks.
“Leave it at that, Clara. Really. I don’t need you to give me a lecture or explain with arguments why we can’t be together. I know that all too well. I know it far better than anyone.”
She takes a step back onto the field. Then another, moving away from my umbrella.
“See you tomorrow.”
“What about your checkup?!” I demand desperately.
She doesn’t answer. She turns completely around and crosses the field at a brisk pace with my jacket wrapped around her shoulders, walking away beneath the curtain of rain while I remain rooted there in the middle of the field, completely motionless, holding an open umbrella that’s now absolutely useless to me.
I know perfectly well that this was the right thing to do.
That I have to put an end to this right here and not push my luck again.
I have to do it for her sake, for mine, and because of everything my past experience has taught me.
The shower incident was a mistake made in the heat of the moment and must never be repeated.
But right there, all alone in the rain, with the main field deserted and the day slowly fading away around me, a part of me already knows that the problem isn’t going to be solved so quickly.
Because, as much as I’ve been completely wrong about Alicia Puertas from start to finish, I’m absolutely certain that, if the opportunity arose again, I’d make the same mistake over and over again.