“I’ll set it up,” I cut him off. “Now fuck off. I need a steam.”
The line goes dead.
For a second, I just sit there, phone in my hand, staring at nothing while his words linger in my head.
Top. Big leagues.
Always more.
Of course, I want bigger crowds.
Bigger stadiums.
Bigger everything.
That’s the dream. That’s the whole point of everything.
But I look around the room again and something settles in my chest.
Why does it have to mean leaving?
Why can’t I take this team to the top?
This is my team now after all.
We could become dangerous if given enough time. And with me here, we’re winning.
Maybe the big leagues can wait.
Maybe building something from the ground up is the better story.
Back at the hotel,the noise finally drops away.
No crowd. No teammates. No agent in my ear. Just carpeted hallways and the faint hum of air-con behind the walls. I feel…lonely.
I toss my kit bag onto the floor, kick off my trainers, and sink onto the edge of the bed, forearms resting on my knees. My body’s still buzzing from the match in muscle memory, adrenaline, and heat, but my mind’s already somewhere else.
I close my eyes for a second, and she’s there instantly. Like a memory. Or a haunting. I smell her perfume, I taste her flesh and she’s mine.
I drag a hand over my face.
This is stupid.
I should be thinking about Wales. About training tomorrow. About my team. About how I can try them into the big leagues. I should be staying sharp.
Instead, I’m wondering if she’s still mad at me. If she’s replaying our last conversation. Or regretting kicking me out. If she’s thinking about me the way I can’t stop thinking about her.
My phone buzzes on the bedside table. For half a second, my heart actually jumps thinking maybe it’s her.
I check and it’s not. Just some team group chat blowing up with memes and goal clips.
I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, arms spread wide, ignoring my mentions in the chat to pull up to any party. I’m not interested ‘cause my mind is elsewhere.
I don’t even know why she gets to me like this.
I don’t know why I find myself craving her company. I used to love being alone. Back in Gombe, I barely went outside if it wasn’t football related. I didn’t make friends. I didn’t care either. I had a few relationships, some I really cared about, but it always seemed to come down to them or football and I chose.
Being in this career meant choosing.
