I couldn't get Elliot's face out of my mind.

Him sitting cross-legged on the floor, with his cat. Asking me so earnestly, with those eyes that gazed a little too intensely into my soul.

He had accepted whatever stupid answer I had given him, and then sealed our spot in the semis with a beautiful curling kick off a corner. 

I wished I could give him an answer. I wished I could tell him what we were. I wasn't even sure what we were.

We had a couple of days' break before the semis against Monarch FC. And so, after training that Friday, I decided to approach him. I caught him outside on the street, his hand in his pocket. I switched on my headlights, flashing them at him. He paused and turned around, walking over to where I stood with my bike.

"Hey," I said. "You free?"

He nodded.

"You wanna come to my place? Nonna and Lucy would love to meet you."

"Okay." He nodded again, swinging one leg onto the bike and settling behind me. I handed the helmet to him, waiting till he clasped it on. He sat further away from me than last time, choosing to grip the bike seat rather than my waist. I reached for his hand, placing it firmly on my stomach before revving up the engine.

He sat still throughout the bike ride, not leaning into me like he had last time. I ignored the pang in my chest as we wove through the narrow Milan streets.

"This place is much better," Elliot remarked as I pulled up in front of the high-rise building. "I forgot to mention last time. It appears I was rather preoccupied with other materialistic things."

"Yeah," I laughed weakly. "Needed a place where I wasn't breathing in mould with every breath. Got it last year. Come on in."

I led him up the staircase, deciding to shoot a text to Chiara in case she wanted to join us. We got off the elevator on the eighth floor, making our way up the stairwell to the penthouse.

I knocked on the door a couple of times before it swung open to reveal Lucy.

"Mio Dio, no way—" Her eyes widened, her mouth agape as she took in Elliot. She slapped my hand. "Why the hell did you not tell me you're bringing him?"

I shoved past her. "Forgive her; she has no manners," I said to Elliot as Lucy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"You really bring THE ELLIOT HAYES here and just—"

"Luc, it's fine," I shook my head, shrugging off my jacket and pointing Elliot to the couch. "Take a seat. Where's Nonna?"

"In the kitchen—" Lucy answered, still staring open-mouthed at Elliot. I made my way to Nonna, who was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, stirring a pot of marinara.

"Hey, Nonna." I leaned over to kiss the top of her head. She looked up slowly, her eyes shining when she saw me.

"Lulu!" She cupped my face with her trembling, cold hands. "Oh honey, it's been too long. You look skinny! How much are they making you run at the academy?"

I laughed and hugged her close. "Not too much, Nonna. We have the championship, so we're training extra hard." I leaned back. "There is someone I want you to meet. You know Charlotte Hayes?"

"Oh yes, of course!" She beamed at me. "'They are not afraid of me because I am a god, sergeant. They are afraid because I am a woman'—" She quoted one of Charlotte Hayes's most famous monologues.

"Well, her son plays at the academy. He's here. You want to see him?"

Her eyes went wide before she nodded, and I helped her to her feet. Back in the living room, Elliot sat with his back straight, Lucy across from him, her knuckles white on her knees as she stared at him with wide eyes. I helped Nonna take a seat on the high-backed chair and smacked Lucy on the head. 

She scowled, reaching out to slap my hand away. 

"You are being embarrassing," I told her.

"Your existence is embarrassing," she shot back. I grinned at her, ruffling up her hair before addressing Elliot. "El, this is Nonna."

My grandma gave him a wide smile. "Oh mio Dio, guardati... sembri un principe!"

I smirked at him. "She says you look like a prince."

He blinked. "Oh. Thank you. I am, however, in no way related to—"

The doorbell rang loudly, and Lucy immediately sprang to her feet, hurrying towards the foyer to open the door. I heard a familiar voice, and soon enough Chiara appeared at the doorway, flashing me a bright smile and holding a bag of takeout.

"Chi!" I walked over to her and pulled her into a hug.

She leaned back and laughed, her eyes bright. "Mio Dio, is that Luca Moretti?"

I rolled my eyes, unable to wipe the grin off my face. "Haha, very funny." I nodded at Elliot. "El, this is Chiara. You remember her?"

"It's great to see you here, Elliot! I ran upstairs the second I saw the text." Chiara said in English, placing the takeout bag on the table.

"Up—stairs?" Elliot asked, looking at me.

Chiara nodded. "Yes. I'm Luca's downstairs neighbor. Got an amazing deal on this building. Otherwise I could never—" she shook her head before shooting him a smile. "You've been having such an incredible season. Carrying this—" She punched my shoulder playfully, "—guy's games."

"I did not see her last time when I visited," Elliot said quietly, his eyes fixed on me. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead as my eyes darted to Chiara, trying to gauge her reaction to the information. Of course, there were a million ways I could explain why Elliot was frequenting my home. But I had hoped I wouldn't have to use any of those excuses.

Chiara gawked once at me and then at Elliot. "Oh. You have...been here before?"

"So, what did you get?" Lucy asked loudly, reaching for the brown paper bag.

"Just some Chinese. I know you won't be having any, Luca. I know—" She stuck out her tongue at me and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, healthy eating and all. So boring. Just eat junk food and die quickly. No more taxes."

I chuckled as Lucy sprang to her feet.

"I'll heat it up and help Nonna to bed," Lucy said, making her way to the kitchen. 

"So how come you're here today?" Chiara asked, taking a seat beside me on the couch opposite Elliot's.

"Owed Elliot here," I nodded at him, "A dinner. But also, now that you mention it—" I flashed her my most winning smile, straightening up and pointing at my chest to reveal the news I had been sitting on for a few hours now. "Guess who's the face of Lumera?"

Her eyes widened; she slapped a hand over her open mouth. "No. Way."

"Yep, yours truly," I grinned at her.

She shrieked, pulling me into a bear hug, still screaming in my ear. "Oh my god, Luca! That is incredible! How...what—aghhh, mio Dio, that is amazing!"

I laughed, rubbing her back and looking over at where Elliot sat frozen. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I remembered Elliot also being in the consideration, and gently disentangled myself from Chiara.

"Congratulations," he said in a flat tone.

"Thank you," I gestured. "Tough contest," I added.

He shook his head. "Hardly. I do not sell the image Lumera wants to sell. Accessibility to the inaccessible."

Chiara snorted. "You'd think that was almost not a compliment."

"An observation," Elliot snapped, his knuckles white on his knees before he smiled, his eyes shining. "But I am truly delighted."

"What did you guys get for dinner?" Chiara piped up suddenly. "We have to celebrate!"

"Nothing yet," I admitted. "Probably just going to be something low-key, to tell you the truth. You got anything in mind, Elliot?"

"You seem much more comfortable around Chiara now," he said in a staccato. "I remember how red your face would turn at the—"

Chiara snorted.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, El—let's not give her too much confidence now, okay?" I chuckled weakly.

"Yeah, he had this hu-uuuge, massive, humongous—" Chiara poked my ribs hard with her elbow, clearly enjoying this way too much.

"Okay, Miss Thesaurus—" I rolled my eyes.

"—crush on me back in the day," she finished. "And he thought he was subtle, by the way."

"Nonna—" Lucy called from the bedroom. "You need to head to bed."

"Right." I got to my feet, helping her up. "I'll be right back."

I slowly walked her into the bedroom and helped her onto the mattress, as Lucy held out her pills for her to take. Finally, she held my hand in both of hers, speaking softly. "I am very happy you are here, Lulu."

"Me too, Nonna," I responded, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I will have more free time after this final."

"I'll look forward to it," she said, smiling.

By the time Lucy and I walked back into the living area, Chiara was sitting cross-legged with her Chinese food and pointed to the second box, then at Lucy, who eagerly sat down beside her. I sat beside Elliot, who seemed to be frozen in his spot.

"What will you do when you win the league?" Chiara asked, sauce dripping off her chin.

"Wow, you are so elegant," I teased, picking up a tissue and wiping it off.

She scowled, snatching the tissue from me and rubbing vigorously on the now-empty spot. "I'm trying to manifest your victory, and this is how you repay me."

"I must call my mother."

I stopped, glancing at Elliot, who had suddenly risen to his feet, his phone in his hand. His voice was shrill, high-pitched. Like he was reciting some monologue from a melodramatic opera. "Is there a place where I can take the call? In private?"

"Um, yeah—" I pointed to the door down the hallway. "Down there, left."

He nodded curtly and left. I heard the soft click as the door shut, and Chiara immediately leaned across the table to me. "He is..."

"He is a bit—" Lucy began.

"Right?" Chiara exclaimed. "Like—"

"He doesn't talk much," I said, shrugging. "Come on. Spend all day sweating balls on the pitch and then come home trying to lip-read? Yeah. I understand why he doesn't want to talk."

"It's not that—" Chiara clicked her tongue and leaned back against the couch. "While you were gone, he asked me all these questions. Like... if I knew about your father and your mother? Your move to Milan."

"Oh." I clenched my jaw. "What did you answer?"

"I didn't know what to say," She shook her head. "I mean... it's not my stuff to tell him. So I didn't. I told him I knew, but I wasn't comfortable sharing something that wasn't mine to share."

"I appreciate that, Chi," I said, sighing. "I don't mind telling him, I guess. I just... I don't know. I feel like he's going to ask too many questions about it, and I can't handle that."

"Yeah, figures." She nodded.

"It's because he's kind of a genius, right?" Lucy piped in. "He's programmed for football and football only. I mean... you see the way the media calls him this diva and all—"

"He's not a diva," I snapped. "I'm telling you. He's just quiet—"

Chiara's phone buzzed loudly, and she reached for it with a groan. "Ugh, questa stronza—"

She held the phone to her ear, talking rapidly in Italian before she finally hung up. "My roommate is having another breakup, and I need to help her throw her boyfriend's stuff out."

Lucy snorted. "Fun evening." She got to her feet and stretched. "Ugh, can't believe I have to leave so early tomorrow morning. I'll head to my room."

Chiara stood up, quickly cleaning up the table and holding the paper bag with the trash in her hand.

"Thanks for the dinner, Chi—" Lucy waved as I walked Chiara to the foyer.

"Well, thanks for having me, Lu," Chiara said. "Let me know when you're free—like, for real next time?"

"After the final game, for sure—" I grinned at her.

"Okay," she smiled back, rising on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek. "Goodnight."

I shut the door behind her and turned to go back inside. Elliot stood in the doorway, his jaw tight.

"Oh, hey." I walked up to him. "You want to get some dinner—?"

"You seem very friendly with her."

"Yeah," I glanced back at the locked door. "She is my friend."

"You have previously harbored deep feelings of affection, akin to a crush—"

"Yeah, I was a child—" I shook my head. "What, you've never had crushes, El?"

"So you have a crush on her," he stated.

"No. God, no. Not right now." I shook my head, placing a hand on his cheek. "What's this about?"

"Did you buy her the apartment, Luca?" he asked sharply.

I stilled. "What makes you—"

"It would be prudent if you did not insult my intelligence," he said in a high-pitched voice. "I see this building. I can tell it's in a range where someone like her—" I winced "—considering her clothes, would not be able to afford. Plus—" he continued, "The good deal she spoke of—"

"Elliot—" I massaged my temple. "You can't speak like that. What do you mean someone like her—?"

"Someone who clearly does not have the financial capacity to—"

"Elliot—"

"I do not understand what your point is," he stated in a monotone. "It is a mere fact."

"I pulled some strings, I admit it," I sighed. "So what? I'm in a good place now. I can afford to give back to people I lo—"

I bit my tongue. With how black and white he seemed to take things, I wasn't sure I could explain to him what my love for Chiara was like.

"Alright, so—" he took a step closer to me, squaring his shoulders. "I must ask you. You go out of your way to buy an accommodation for your friend. Which is absolutely the highest amount of investment—"

"It was cheap at the time," I said honestly. "Well, cheaper."

"And that is not misconstrued by people. But I asked you for dinner—" he shook his head, "—and you were afraid it would be...misconstrued even though we have definitely indulged in things that my limited knowledge tells me friends do not indulge in."

"Elliot...you can't rationalise and analyze every aspect of life, every aspect of a relationship like this. Okay? It is... it is not binary."

He fell silent, turning away from me, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"She seemed to know a lot about your life," he continued quietly. "Information you told me you weren't comfortable talking about. But I suppose your discomfort was with me, and not the information itself."

"She's just been here for a long time," I said, leaning against the wall. "So yeah, she knows shit about my childhood and everything."

"Have you had sex with her?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Have you had sex with her?"

"Maybe we should, um—take this somewhere else—" I grabbed his hand, leading him into my bedroom down the corridor and shutting the door behind us. I flicked on the warm yellow lights before turning to him. "Okay. So?"

He raised his eyebrows. "So?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, unsure how to answer. I could lie to him; it would make things easier. Definitely easier than trying to explain the friends-with-benefits situation we had had going on for so long.

"That's personal, Elliot," I said finally. "Besides, whatever I had with her has nothing to do with us."

"Us?" He tilted his head slightly. "You refused to label us."

"I'm not labelling us—" I held his hand in mine. "Of course I care about you. I like you... a lot."

"Same way you like a... strawberry cheesecake," he said, frowning slightly.

"No, not the same way." I clicked my tongue. I understood what he was trying to do—to try and rationalise my feelings in whatever metrics he had.

"Is she your girlfriend?" he asked, deadpan.

"Jesus, no." I shook my head. "She's a friend. We had a fling in the past. That's all."

"She knows private information about you that you refuse to talk to me about. That would mean your relationship with her is deeper." He said it in a plain voice, although his words trembled slightly.

"I've just moved on from that stuff, El," I continued. "If you want me to tell you about all of that, I'll tell you. I don't mind telling you stuff. I'm not, like, actively hiding it from you."

"Okay. So tell me then." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his jaw set.

I regretted ever opening my mouth. But I had no choice now. So I decided to give him the shortest version.

"My mom died back when I was ten—" I spoke in a staccato. "Dad's business went under. So Lucy and I moved here to our grandparents' house. Then I found soccer."

"That seems like an overly simplified version—" he began.

I clicked my tongue, brushing a hand through my hair. "That's all there is to it, El."

"You seem... irate," he observed. "You did not seem irate with Chiara."

"I'm not... I'm not annoyed," I lied, turning back to look at him. "Let's just get some dinner, okay? I'm starving."

Thankfully, he didn't say anything to that, and I was able to grill some chicken and veggies without any input from him. He refused the tofu I had brought for him and insisted he just wanted the steamed vegetables.

"Would you consider me a friend, Luca?" he asked suddenly.

"Hm?" I looked at him across the table, his untouched food of steamed vegetables in front of him.

"Would you consider me a friend?" he repeated.

"Sure," I answered.

"There is something odd about answering 'sure' and not 'yes'." He thought out loud. "You do not behave like a friend with me."

I chewed slowly, sighing and rubbing my face. I probably should have thought about this exact situation propping up before I put my tongue in his mouth.

"You're not just a friend," I said slowly. "Of course we are...more than that."

"But we are not boyfriends."

I shook my head once, my jaw clenched.

"What about your father?" he piped up suddenly, reaching out to squeeze my hand on the table. I looked once at his pale fingers before at him. "You did not tell me about him."

"He is not a part of my life," I answered shortly, chewing with much more force than necessary.

"Oh."

"Do you miss him?" he asked, repeating my own words back to me like that was something he had learnt. "What happened to him? Estranged? I did not find any information—"

"Elliot, could you please drop it?" I said, tapping the end of my fork against the counter.

"You said we need to exchange data—"

"Elliot, please. Stop."

"But I do not understand—"

I sighed, shutting my eyes and massaging my throbbing temple. I did not want to lose my temper at him. 

"This is what you wanted," he said, "data exchange." He finished in a small voice.

I did not respond, my fingers suddenly too cold against the metallic fork.

An awkward, thick silence fell in the air. He took a few bites of his food, his eyes fixed on the plate. After ten awkward minutes of silent chewing, he looked up at me. "I should probably go."

"Let me drop you," I said, glancing at the time.

"I do not wish to inconvenience you anymore." 

"You are not...you are not inconveniencing me, Elliot."

"It is quite alright. I do appreciate the offer." He rose to his feet, making his way silently to the exit. I followed after him, leaning against the wall as he put on his coat.

"Thanks for coming," I said. He did not hear; he wasn't looking at me.

"Goodbye." He said instead, shutting the door behind him and leaving me in a deafening silence.