Page 47 of Last Line of Defense

The remark stings, but at this very moment I couldn’t care less. I grab her firmly by the waist before my brain can even process the command, and with a shove filled with desire and pent-up rage, I pin her against the row of metal lockers in the locker room. The impact of her hips against the metal reverberates with a hollow echo throughout the empty space. Alicia’s eyes widen, completely caught off guard by my outburst.

“Clara…”

But it’s too late. Way too late to stop this train. Too late to control myself, to pretend that I’m still just the one in charge of getting her knee back in shape and that she’s just a forward with torn ligaments.

I kiss her. I kiss her with all the wild frustration and panic that’s built up over the last twenty-four hours. With pure rage. With fear of losing her. With that urgent, animalistic need to silence her once and for all, because hearing her speak those truths is far more dangerous to my stability than any rumor. Alicia reacts instantly, without a second thought, as if she, too, had been teetering on the edge of an emotional precipice for hours and found in my lips the only possible salvation before the fall.

Her hands dig forcefully into the fabric of my polo shirt, crumpling it between her fingers. Everything is steeped in pure intensity, hormones, and desire. Ragged breaths, stifled gasps, and desperate kisses that taste of anger, reproach, and a mad desire to devour each other. There’s no delicacy, no subtlety, no romance: we’re just two adult women exhausted from fighting against ourselves and against a current that’s dragging us along. My hands slide urgently down her back, pressing her against my body so there isn’t even a millimeter of space between us, while she tangles her fingers in my hair and pulls gently backward, drawing a stifled moan from me that echoes off the lockers.

Alicia pulls me away just a few centimeters, just enough to look me in the face without breaking contact. Her lips are slightly swollen from the bite, and her pupils are so dilated that her eyes look like two dark, blazing wells.

“I hate you with all my soul when you do this,” she whispers, her breath ragged against my mouth.

My hands remain clamped tightly around her hips, holding her close to me.

“Believe me when I say I hate myself a whole lot more.”

She lets out a brief laugh, broken by emotion, and presses her lips against mine again with renewed force. The outside world—Ravenhill FC, Julian Mercer, and the threats of dismissal—ceases to exist for a few minutes. There’s no logic to it, no prudence. Just two bodies that know each other by heart, that seek each other out by instinct, and that devastating feeling of needing each other even when all signs point to this ending in a head-on collision.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathless, our hearts racing. I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes to savor the moment. Alicia’s fingers are still clutching the fabric of my T-shirt tightly, as if she’s afraid that if she lets go, I’ll vanish.

“And now… what the hell do we do now?” she asks in a barely audible whisper, almost afraid of the answer that might come out of my mouth.

I open my eyes slowly and stroke her cheek.

“This is going to complicate things and make everything a lot worse… It’s not going to make our lives any easier.”

Alicia lets out a small, ironic laugh, devoid of humor.

“Yeah. Quite a bit. But let me make one thing clear: I’m not going to ask you to stop.”

Neither of us makes the slightest move to pull away; neither of us seems physically capable of breaking the contact. Until, suddenly, a series of sharp, authoritative knocks sounds against the wooden locker room door, and we pull apart instantly, as if we’d been zapped by an electric shock. My heart is pounding so violently against my chest that I feel as if it can be heard from the hallway.

“Clara? Are you in there?” Hugo’s powerful voice pierces through the wood. “Technical staff meeting in ten minutes in the conference room. Don’t miss it.”

“I’ll be right there, Hugo! Give me five minutes and I’ll be up!” I call back, clearing my throat and trying with all my might to regain my normal tone of voice.

Alicia runs a hand through her tousled hair to smooth it out a bit and exhales all the air trapped in her lungs in a slow sigh. She glances down for a moment at her left knee, and I can clearly see how that whole layer of toughness, arrogance, and cockiness vanishes from her expression, giving way to sincere concern.

“Clara… is it really that bad?” she asks, now without a trace of sarcasm, her eyes filled with pure, transparent fear.

I approach her slowly, tenderly, and brush aside a strand of hair damp with sweat that’s fallen across her forehead.

“You’re in much worse shape than you should be at this point in the preseason. You’re going to need complete rest, intensive physical therapy sessions with me tomorrow morning and afternoon, and above all… you need to stop being so incredibly stubborn and listen to your doctor.”

She closes her eyes for a second, physically exhausted from the grueling workout she’s put her body through. My hand remains cradling her cheek for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth of her skin as I gaze at her intently, gathering the courage to take the plunge.

“I’m going to take care of you, Alicia,” I murmur softly before my rational side can stop the words from coming out. “I promise I’ll get you in top shape so you can step onto the field, give it your all, and score a goal.”

She opens her eyes slowly and, for the first time all day, gives me a genuine smile, filled with absolute trust that disarms me.

“Don’t let me down, Clara,” she whispers, reaching for my hand.

“I won’t,” I promise, looking her straight in the eye, even though I’m fully aware that romantic promises between the two of us are becoming increasingly dangerous and explosive. “But you have to do the same.”

· · ·

The dreaded meeting takes place half an hour later in one of the main rooms of the sports complex. I make an enormous effort to focus all my attention on the agenda displayed on the screen and on anything other than Alicia, who is sitting right across from me at the oval table, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of mineral water while avoiding eye contact so as not to give us away.