Page 53 of Last Line of Defense

“Okay, Alicia, just confess already. Can you tell me what the heck is wrong with you today?” Irene blurts out as soon as I plop down on a mat to start my hamstring stretches. She watches me with her arms crossed and that mix of curiosity and mischievous amusement that’s so typical of her.

I let out a brief laugh—almost a snort—as I lean forward to touch the tips of my soccer cleats with my hands.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, you pain in the neck. I just woke up feeling really energetic, just like the rest of the team.”

“That’s exactly why it’s so suspicious,” Alba chimes in from the stationary bike next to me, pedaling effortlessly and glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “Usually at this time of the morning, you look like you’re about to tell the whole coaching staff to go to hell.”

“Look, I still feel like telling them to go to hell,” I reply with a wink, though my tone comes out much lighter, softer, and more singsong than usual.

“Yeah, sure, but not with that shit-eating grin plastered on your face,” Irene insists, pointing an accusing finger at me.

I jerk my head up, trying to keep a straight face.

“What smile? I’m not smiling at all.”

The two of them burst out laughing with a shared complicity that drives me crazy, and I feel a treacherous, burning heat rise up my neck.

“Oh my God!” Irene exclaims dramatically, clutching her chest. “Stop the presses! Our star forward is in love!”

“Don’t talk nonsense, seriously,” I protest, stretching out my other leg, though I say it without any conviction and under my breath.

“Look at that—she’s not even denying it with her usual aggression! It’s totally confirmed, girls—Alicia got properly laid,” Alba adds, laughing her head off and slowing her pedaling so she doesn’t miss the show.

I shake my head and try to focus on the floor so I can keep stretching while they keep teasing me amid their laughter. But, unfortunately for me, they’re absolutely right: I’m completely hopeless at hiding how crazy I am about Clara. And the real problem with this whole thing is that Clara can’t hide it either.

I try to convince myself that the girls’ comments are just nonsense, that they’re only saying it because of the tension Clara and I have shared since day one, that it’s all just my paranoia—but as soon as Alba plops down next to me on the mat, I realize that my intuition never fails me. Alba is the team captain, a thirty-year-old center back with incredible experience and a terrifying ability to read people just by looking at them. She’s been watching me a little too closely for several weeks now, and in this locker room, that’s never a good sign.

“How’s your knee?” she asks casually as she begins to stretch her quadriceps.

“It’s holding up—which, considering yesterday’s drills, is already saying a lot,” I reply, giving her a half smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” Alba pauses briefly, the silence so charged with meaning it makes my hair stand on end. Then she narrows her eyes and smiles faintly. “Although I’d say last night you found a much more interesting and effective way to relax your muscles.”

My breath catches in my throat. My whole body tenses like a guitar string about to snap. I look at her very slowly, turning my head, searching her expression for any hint of teasing or mockery.

“I don’t know exactly what you’re referring to.”

Alba holds my gaze steadily, without losing that calm, mature half smile of hers.

“The indoor pool area echoes a lot at night, Alicia. And people’s voices… well, to put it elegantly, they can be heard with astonishing clarity at that hour.”

I feel a sharp, cold, direct blow right in the middle of my chest. As if a gust of icy wind had swept through me. Because suddenly I understand perfectly, without any need for further explanation, what she’s trying to tell me. She heard us. Or she saw us. Well, maybe she wasn’t physically there watching, but she knows enough to bring us down.

I make a titanic effort to keep a neutral expression and continue fiddling with my sneakers.

“I still don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do,” she replies with astonishing gentleness, turning her full attention back to her own exercises. “But relax. Take a breath. I couldn’t care less who you sleep with, as long as it doesn’t affect the team’s performance in the slightest.”

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth hurt.

“Well, if you really don’t care that much, I don’t think you should be bringing it up in the middle of the gym.”

Alba lets out a soft sigh and stops stretching to rest on her palms, gazing at the gym ceiling for a moment before fixing her eyes on me again.

“I’ve been in this locker room for many years, Alicia. I know how to recognize a certain kind of look between two people when I see it right in front of me. And I also know all too well how fast gossip and rumors spread in here as soon as someone opens their mouth.” She leans a little closer to my mat and lowers her voice to a whisper. “I’m only telling you this for your own good: be very, very careful. The walls are paper-thin, and jealousy in soccer is far worse than a torn ligament.”

I lower my gaze to the rubber floor, unable to meet her eyes. To be honest, knowing that my teammates’ jokes and teasing aren’t innocent anymore—and that the team captain knows Clara and I are together in defiance of the board’s rules—makes my hair stand on end.