Champion's League, Quarter Finals 

End of First Half of Extra Time (105')

SS San Babila 0 0 SS Ambrosiana

I tore my gaze away from the scoreboard, finding Luca already gazing at me. Even though we had managed to create several chances, none of them had resulted in a goal. From the looks of it, San Babila was happy to take the game into penalty shootouts, a stress I would like to avoid for our keeper.

Their defenders had spent the past hour standing in between Luca and me, blocking our visual channel. Without us being able to communicate, we couldn't break free of Babila's man-to-man marking.

I sat at the back of the locker room right before the final fifteen minutes of the game were set to be played. Coach Vance was already setting up who all would take penalties. Rossi sat in a corner with his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

I glanced up as I felt a familiar hand squeeze my shoulder. Luca gazed down at me, his eyebrows furrowed. I wasn't sure what had ailed him that day in the alley, but I was glad the game seemed to have taken his mind off it, and he was acting almost eighty percent normal. My heart rate increased immediately, his warmth pulling me towards it like it had its own electromagnetic field.

I grabbed the sleeve of his jersey, gesturing for him to sit beside me. He obliged, leaning in to hear me clearly. "We cannot let this game go to penalties," I said slowly. "Rossi's performance drops by forty percent under stress." He nodded, and I continued. "We should try our blind side run."

He leaned back to look at me, mouthing, 'You sure?'

I nodded.

And so, back on the pitch, the next time that I got the ball, instead of trying to search for Luca between the defenders marking me, I played the pass into the zone behind the defender, where, according to our training, Luca should have been. It was a strong pass; Luca would have to not only meet it in stride, but also control it. But I knew if there was any player who could collect an invisible ball and shoot it into the net, it was him.

With the defenders blindsided, Luca controlled the pass beautifully with the tip of his boots. I had put too much momentum into it, perhaps due to agitation or nervousness. Regardless, he had bounced it once and pelted straight towards the goalpost. We hadn't rehearsed this nearly as diligently as our other tactics. There was nothing to practice. It was a matter of being in tune with each other's inertia, where the other was placed. I trusted him to find me near the penalty box.

And of course, he did, sending a back-heel pass. I turned on the spot and passed it to Fernandez, who pelted a beautiful shot into the goalpost. However, one of their defenders was able to clear it with a header.

We had a corner.

Luca found my eyes among the sea of players, nodding at his hand near his thighs. He shifted it forward in a straight motion and then lifted his finger to point at me. He wanted me to take a shot at the goal. Directly from the corner post.

I blinked once at him and made my way to the right corner post, setting the ball down as the defenders took their spots. I could see Luca at the very centre, right in front of the goalkeeper. The keeper was covering him diligently, his eyes darting from Luca to me and back again. He was hyper-attuned to Luca's movements, which meant there was at least an increased thirty percent chance of a save.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the ball and the goalpost. The muffled screams of the crowd were barely audible, cocooning me in a comforting vacuum. I felt the tremor in me as the whistle went off. I tilted my boots at the precise angle I had practiced, lobbing the ball with a practiced curl. It rose higher than Luca's jump, swirling right behind his head and finding its way to the top corner of the net.

Screams erupted, the grass below me vibrating at the sudden barrage of chaos. The team ran towards me, shoving and ruffling my hair and patting my back. Luca's pinky finger found mine somewhere in the chaos, curling around it in a comforting gesture that warmed me more than the goal itself had. Ten minutes later, the whistle blew again, signalling the end of the match.

SS San Babila 0 1 SS Ambrosiana

E. Hayes (10) 116'

I glanced at Luca, whose eyes were bright. He grinned at me and held up two fingers, kissing the tips of them. I understood his gesture instantly, feeling a smile twitching at the corner of my mouth.

Two more games till the championship trophy.

*

"Mum?"

My mum glanced at me, peeking from behind her phone. "Yes, love?"

I reached for my dinner that Mum had insisted on making. "This tofu is severely salt-deficient. Also—"

She reached over to sprinkle some salt into my food as I continued, "When did you start referring to Jonathan as your boyfriend?"

She sat up straighter, using a small spoon to stir her herbal tea. She held the mug between her palms, squinting at me before answering. "You mean when did we make it official?"

"When did you decide he was your boyfriend?" I asked.

"Well, we went on like four, five dates?" she said. "And then when we decided to be exclusive, I think that's when we went official. Why do you ask?" She lifted an eyebrow at me, taking a slow sip of her tea.

I took a bite of the overly salted tofu before answering. "I may or may not have a boyfriend. Further details are awaited." I took a sip of water. "This tofu is overly salt efficient."

She let out a chuckle, her eyes shining. "How does that happen?"

"You put too much salt into—"

She clicked her tongue. "I mean, how do you 'may or may not have a boyfriend'?"

I shrugged. "He says it's too soon to label it. Says he doesn't know me that well yet."

"Hm," she leaned back in her chair, tapping her nails on the countertop. "Is this boy Luca Moretti, by any chance?"

I couldn't explain the way my face seemed to heat up, since the surrounding temperature was held constant by the centralized air conditioning system at my mom's place. I nodded.

"Isn't he tied with you for highest scorer this season, Eli?" she asked, squaring her shoulders.

I nodded. "He was ahead before my corner against Babila."

"I see." She seemed to be chewing on her tongue before she spoke again. "What makes you think he might be your boyfriend?" she asked, her eyes not meeting mine as she studied her own hands.

"We have kissed. Several times now," I reasoned. "And back at my place, we also—"

She made a choked noise that immediately concerned me. She shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed. "Okay, love. I don't need the details. I mean, has he ever mentioned like... exclusivity or love or anything that would suggest it's more than just... physical intimacy?"

"I tried talking to him about it, and as I mentioned, he said it is too soon. And that I should focus instead on the biggest match of our career."

"He is not wrong, love," she said. "You also go against him some months from now. Euros, then Worlds next year. You cannot afford to have weaknesses."

"He helped me learn to play without these-" I pointed at my hearing aids. "Taught me to train via body language. That is why we are able to excel on pitch together as a team."

She nodded. "That is amazing, Eli."

"So I do not understand why he feels he does not know me." I glanced down at my plate of unfinished food, my throat suddenly dry even though I was on track with my hydration schedule. "We are able to communicate without speaking. How do you do that if you claim not to know the person?"

"Well," she cleared her throat. "It does not necessarily mean that they know you. They know the game well; they know your play style well. So you are able to sync up. That may not translate into life off the pitch. Have you been with him a lot off field?"

"As I mentioned," I began, "We have had dinner a few times. I also have spent a night at his apartment. Do you think we should consummate our relationship in order for me to call him my boyfriend?"

She grimaced, shutting her eyes for a few seconds before opening them. "That is...your choice, love. I will not make any comments on it. But I do not want you to think you need to sleep with him in order to advance the relationship. That is not correct."

"I would not be forcing myself," I admitted out loud. "That should just be...the natural progression."

"There are no timelines, my love," Mum said, squeezing my hand gently.

"I suppose. You think I should refrain from bringing up this conversation with him again?" I enquired.

"Maybe for now, yes," she nodded, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "You also need to be sure of how you feel."

"I have never faced such physical anomalies earlier," I admitted. "An increased rate of cardiac activity. An odd warmth I believe is associated with his presence somehow."

She chewed on her bottom lip before taking a deep breath. "You are clearly familiar with him and spend a lot of time together. You have also never really been close to anyone in a social sense."

"No. I have not," I agreed.

"So perhaps you need to be sure before you start trying to have the conversation with him."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the tofu, which, despite no physical evidence, had started tasting like sand.