Page 20 of Winning Match
@CallMeMrsGarcia OMG, dyingggg. Have y’all seen the photos of @AleGarcia9 and his mystery woman?! WHO IS SHE?
@CarrieSins12 Idk. And it’s killing me.
@LeagueValenciaGirlie It’s serious.
@SoccerSux33 Seriously a joke. Who cares?
@FutbolGuru You. Considering how much you engage on these threads.
@SweetPea3 Hearts are breaking all over Spain today.
@CarrieSins12 Try the planet. We’re in mourning.
@CallMeMrsGarcia He looks happy though.
@FutbolGuru That’s something considering he’s not League Valencia’s captain…
7
Marlowe
A pang cuts through my head as I sit up in bed. The hotel room is dark, the blackout shades covering the windows.
I frown, looking around, trying to get my bearings.
“Shit,” I mutter as the night before comes back to me in waves.
Arriving in Spain. Gerard with the blonde. Drinks at the bar.
Ale.
Dinner and drinks and dancing.
Kissing!
Shit!
I throw back the covers, swing my legs to the edge of the bed, and stand. My head spins and my mouth is dry. I grasp the headboard to steady myself and nearly weep with gratitude when I note the bottled water and two paracetamol tablets on the nightstand.
I take them quickly, savoring the cool water as it slides down my throat. Glancing around the room, I half expect to see a naked Ale. Relief floods my limbs when I realize I’m alone.
I spot something on the desk and hurry over, my breath lodging in my throat at the wad of cash folded next to a note.
For a heartbeat, fear rushes through my limbs.
Was our exchange somehow transactional? Did I misunderstand…everything?
As soon as I read the note, relief snakes through my veins and I drop into the desk chair, exhausted from the surge of panic, the dip of relief, and the range of emotions in between.
Marli—tonight was incredible. Thank you for a beautiful memory. The hotel room is settled for two more nights. This is the cash I had on hand—use it. And get your cards sorted as soon as possible. Be safe. A.
Be safe.
This time I understand the words for the intent behind them. Concern.
Ale is a good man, and he did something kind and thoughtful for a stranger, asking for nothing in return. In fact, I don’t even know his last name or have his telephone number to thank him. Tears prick the corners of my eyes at the compassion he showed me. Especially after the hurt Gerard dragged me through.
Forcing myself to stand, I push open the curtains and suck in a breath as I get my first full glimpse of Valencia in daylight. It’s stunning.
