If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
_____________________________
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Because once in a while, a hotel restaurant in Brighton got to say that Arsenal and England's superstar had eaten there.
The first evening in Brighton lingered with them long after dinner ended.
They didn't rush back upstairs.
Instead, they stayed seated for a while after dessert which a shared lemon tart they insisted they were only tasting but quietly demolished with watching the last light fade beyond the windows.
The sea had turned darker now, navy instead of turquoise. The pier lights flickered on in the distance, tiny golden dots stretching into the water.
Leah rested her chin in her palm.
"I can't believe we're actually here," she murmured.
Francesco leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily along the backrest. "You say that like we snuck in."
She smiled. "It just feels different. Away from everything."
He knew what she meant.
Away from London traffic. Away from training ground whispers. Away from reporters waiting outside gates. Away from the constant rhythm of the Premier League calendar.
For once, there wasn't a match to prepare for. No tactical meeting in the morning. No recovery session at London Colney. No analysts waiting to replay every touch he made.
Just the sound of cutlery on plates and soft restaurant music humming in the background.
Eventually, they rose from their table, thanking the staff again who thanked him back just as much and made their way to the elevator.
The lobby was calmer now. The earlier excitement had faded into polite nods and the occasional smile.
The receptionist caught Leah's eye and gave her a small, conspiratorial grin.
Leah laughed under her breath as the elevator doors closed.
"Tomorrow," she said, turning to him. "We're just two normal people going to the beach."
Francesco raised an eyebrow. "Normal?"
"Very normal."
He pulled her gently closer as the elevator ascended. "We'll try."
Sunlight slipped through the thin gap in the curtains, stretching across the bedroom floor in long golden lines. The sound of distant gulls drifted up faintly from the shore below.
Francesco woke first.
He lay still for a moment, listening.
The sea.
It was different in the morning as it was softer somehow, like it hadn't fully woken up yet either.
Leah was curled against him, one arm tucked under her pillow, hair spread across the white sheets. Cheddar had somehow migrated from his travel bed to the rug near their bedroom door, snoring gently.
Francesco smiled to himself.
No alarm.
No 7:30 a.m. gym session.
No strength coach texting him reminders.
He shifted slightly, careful not to wake Leah which lasted about five seconds.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Morning," she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
"Morning."
She blinked at him, then rolled onto her back and stretched dramatically, arms above her head.
"I can hear it," she said.
"The sea?"
She nodded.
Cheddar stirred at the sound of their voices, lifting his head groggily before deciding he wasn't fully ready to function and dropping it back down.
Leah propped herself up on her elbows.
"Breakfast?"
Francesco grinned. "Always."
They took their time getting ready, which slower than the night before. Leah pulled on a light sundress this time, pale blue with thin straps. Francesco opted for a simple white T-shirt and navy shorts.
Cheddar received his own morning routine: short walk along the quieter side street near the hotel, plenty of sniffing opportunities, and a quick stop to admire the seafront from a distance.
When they returned inside and made their way to the restaurant, it was brighter, livelier than the previous evening.
Sunlight flooded the space.
Guests moved between buffet tables carrying plates stacked high with croissants, fruit, scrambled eggs.
The hostess recognized them immediately but kept her composure this time.
"Good morning," she said warmly. "Your usual table?"
Leah shot Francesco a playful look.
"Usual," she echoed.
They were seated by the window again.
The sea shimmered under the clear sky, bright and inviting.
Breakfast was generous from flaky pastries, fresh fruit, yogurt, smoked salmon, toast still warm from the kitchen. Francesco piled his plate like a man who burned thousands of calories weekly. Leah shook her head in mock judgment.
"You're on holiday," she reminded him.
"I know."
"That doesn't mean you have to eat like you're preparing for extra time."
He shrugged. "Habit."
She reached across and stole half his croissant anyway.
The atmosphere was different from the night before. Fewer whispers. More casual glances.
A small boy at a nearby table stared at Francesco openly, wide-eyed, but his parents kept him politely seated.
Leah leaned closer.
"You see that?" she whispered.
Francesco glanced subtly.
"Give it a minute."
Sure enough, after about ten minutes, the boy approached hesitantly with his father.
"Sorry to bother you," the dad said kindly. "He just… he loves watching you play."
Francesco's expression softened immediately.
"What's your name?" he asked the boy.
"Oliver," the kid squeaked.
Francesco smiled. "Nice to meet you, Oliver."
They took a photo. Francesco signed a small notepad the boy had clutched nervously.
When they returned to their meal, Leah watched him quietly for a second.
"You don't switch it off," she said.
"What?"
"The kindness."
He shrugged again, but there was something thoughtful in his eyes.
"They choose to support me. I can at least give them a minute."
She reached under the table and squeezed his knee gently.
Breakfast stretched comfortably. Coffee refilled. Sun climbing higher.
Eventually, Leah leaned back and exhaled.
"Okay," she said, excitement returning. "Beach day."
Francesco grinned.
They headed upstairs briefly to change.
Back in the suite, the late morning light poured through the balcony doors. The sea looked even closer in daylight, like it was calling them.
Cheddar trotted around expectantly as Leah pulled a large woven beach bag from her suitcase.
"Right," she announced. "Essentials."
Sunscreen. Sunglasses. Towels. Water bottles. A small portable speaker. A book she would probably read two pages of before getting distracted.
Francesco changed into swim shorts, and threw on a loose linen shirt unbuttoned over it. He grabbed a cap and slid his sunglasses on.
Leah stepped out of the bathroom in a simple white bikini top with high-waisted beige shorts thrown over it.
Francesco blinked once.
"Problem?" she asked innocently.
"Not at all."
She laughed and tossed him a bottle of sunscreen.
"You're not getting burnt on day one."
Cheddar barked approvingly.
They double-checked everything. Locked the balcony doors. Switched off unnecessary lights.
Leah clipped Cheddar's leash on.
"He's coming to the beach," she declared firmly.
Francesco smirked. "Of course he is."
The elevator ride down felt lighter than the night before.
There was still recognition as a few smiles, one discreet nod from a man reading a newspaper, but it was calmer. Maybe morning made everything softer.
The lobby doors slid open, and immediately the sea air hit them.
Warmer now.
Carrying that unmistakable scent of salt and sun-warmed stone.
Brighton beach stretched out ahead of them, pebbled and sparkling under the clear sky. The iconic pier rose to their right, alive even from a distance.
Leah inhaled deeply.
"Okay," she said, almost reverently. "This is perfect."
They walked slowly down toward the promenade.
People were already out from joggers, families with buckets and spades, couples carrying towels.
Cheddar trotted proudly between them, ears up, tail wagging at everything.
A few heads turned.
A few phones subtly lifted.
But the beach was bigger than a hotel lobby.
More space.
More movement.
Francesco felt something loosen in his chest as they stepped onto the pebbles.
The sound was immediate from the crunch beneath their feet, the steady wash of waves rolling in and retreating.
Leah slipped her sandals off, wincing slightly as her bare feet adjusted to the stones.
"Oh my God," she laughed. "I forgot about pebbles."
Francesco followed, hissing quietly at the initial shock.
"Worth it," he said anyway.
They found a spot not too far from the water but slightly removed from the busiest cluster of families. Leah spread out their towels carefully while Francesco anchored the corners with their bag and shoes.
Cheddar immediately began his beach inspection with nose low, zigzagging in wide circles.
Leah stood upright and shaded her eyes, looking out toward the horizon.
"Race you," she said suddenly.
Francesco turned slowly. "On pebbles?"
She grinned mischievously.
"Loser buys ice cream later."
Before he could respond, she took off toward the water, half-laughing, half-yelping at the uneven surface.
Francesco shook his head, then chased after her.
The sea met them faster than expected.
Cold.
Sharp.
Leah gasped loudly as the water splashed around her ankles.
"Oh! Oh that's freezing!"
Francesco caught up, grabbing her waist from behind as she tried to retreat.
"No backing out," he laughed.
She twisted around, splashing him deliberately.
The shock of cold stole his breath for a second, then he retaliated.
Soon they were both laughing like children, water soaking the bottom of their shorts, waves crashing gently around their legs.
Behind them, a few people recognized him.
There were whispers again.
But from the shoreline, it looked different.
Less like a superstar.
More like a couple on holiday.
Cheddar barked enthusiastically from the edge, refusing to get his paws wet but cheering them on all the same.
Eventually they stumbled back to their towels, breathless.
Leah dropped down beside the bag, pushing wet hair away from her face.
"That," she said between laughs, "is how you start a holiday."
Francesco lay back on the towel, propping himself up on his elbows to watch the sea.
"Yeah," he agreed softly.
The sun warmed their skin quickly.
Cheddar curled up between them, finally satisfied with his inspection.
Around them, Brighton carried on from music drifting faintly from someone's speaker, gulls arguing overhead, children shouting happily near the water.
Leah rested her head lightly on Francesco's shoulder.
"You happy?" she asked.
He looked out at the endless blue for a moment before answering.
"Yeah," he said. "I really am."
Francesco stayed on his elbows for another minute, watching the light dance across the water.
He could feel the warmth of the sun settling into his shoulders. The steady rhythm of waves felt almost hypnotic. Leah's head rested comfortably against him, her breathing slow, content.
But Brighton beach wasn't built for staying still too long.
A group of teenagers sprinted past them toward the water, shouting. Somewhere further down the shore, someone had already dragged a paddleboard into the shallows. Laughter carried across the wind.
Leah shifted slightly and lifted her head.
"I can't just lie here," she said, already grinning. "It's too tempting."
Francesco turned his head toward the sea.
"You want to go in properly?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You think I sprinted into freezing water earlier for fun?"
He laughed.
Cheddar perked up at the change in tone, tail beginning to wag as if he sensed movement was coming.
Leah sat up fully now, brushing pebbles off her legs.
"Okay," she declared. "We're swimming. And we're not backing out after thirty seconds this time."
Francesco rolled onto his back dramatically.
"It's still cold."
She leaned over him, sunlight catching in her hair.
"You're a professional athlete."
"I play football," he corrected. "I don't wrestle the English Channel."
She laughed and stood, offering him her hand.
"Come on."
He let her pull him up, dusting sand and pebbles from his palms. Cheddar barked once, excited, as if volunteering to join until the memory of cold water hit him and he stayed firmly planted on the towel.
They walked back toward the shoreline, slower this time, letting their feet adjust to the pebbles.
The tide had crept a little higher already.
Leah didn't hesitate. She stepped straight in, flinching only slightly at the shock.
Francesco followed, inhaling sharply as the cold reached his knees.
"Okay," he muttered. "That's aggressive."
Leah turned back toward him, laughing.
"Don't think about it. Just go."
And then she dove forward.
Not dramatically with just a quick plunge, water splashing up around her shoulders.
Francesco stood there for half a second longer.
Then he swore under his breath and dove too.
The cold swallowed him whole.
It was the kind of cold that stole your breath and punched your ribs from the inside. For a second, everything went silent underwater, just bubbles and blue.
Then he surfaced with a sharp exhale.
"Oh my—" he started, teeth almost chattering.
Leah was already laughing beside him, hair slicked back, eyes bright.
"It's not that bad!"
"It's absolutely that bad," he shot back, but he was grinning now.
They adjusted slowly, bodies getting used to the temperature. The more they moved, the easier it felt. They swam out a little further, not too far which just enough to feel the gentle lift and drop of the swell beneath them.
It wasn't wild water.
No dramatic crashing waves.
Just steady movement.
Leah floated onto her back, staring up at the cloudless sky.
"This is so different from London," she murmured.
Francesco treaded water beside her.
"No one shouting your name out here."
As if on cue, someone from the shore yelled, "Francesco!"
They both burst out laughing.
He turned and waved casually.
A small group near the waterline waved back, phones raised.
Leah rolled back upright, brushing water from her face.
"You can't escape it completely."
He shrugged.
"I don't need to. This is still good."
They swam for another twenty minutes, racing each other short distances, teasing, splashing like teenagers instead of adults with public expectations.
Eventually, they made their way back to the beach, water streaming from their skin, shoulders glowing in the sun.
Cheddar barked wildly as they approached, doing tiny circles on the towel like he'd just witnessed something heroic.
"Your parents survived," Leah told him, crouching down to scratch his head.
Francesco grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his shoulders.
As they dried off, he glanced further down the beach.
Brightly colored surfboards stood upright in the pebbles near a small surf school setup. A few instructors in wetsuits were guiding beginners through balancing techniques on the shore before leading them into the shallows.
Leah followed his gaze.
"You're thinking about it."
He didn't deny it.
"I've never surfed here."
She smiled slowly.
"Well… that seems like a problem we can solve."
He looked at her.
"You?"
"Why not?"
He studied her face for hesitation. There wasn't any.
"Alright," he said. "Let's do it."
They packed up their towels and shifted slightly further along the beach, closer to the surf stand. Cheddar was clipped safely to the umbrella post they borrowed for shade, with a bowl of water placed beside him.
The instructor a mid-thirties, sun-kissed skin, relaxed energy that recognized Francesco instantly but kept his cool.
"You picked a good day for it," he said, handing them wetsuits. "Water's calm enough for beginners."
"Define beginners," Leah asked.
The instructor grinned. "Have you ever stood on a board before?"
She shook her head.
"Then you're beginners."
Francesco pulled the wetsuit halfway up and laughed. "Fair."
The neoprene clung snugly, awkward at first, but once zipped, it felt secure.
They carried their boards together toward the water.
The pebbles made balancing slightly ridiculous. Leah nearly slipped twice, giggling both times.
Once in the shallows, the instructor gave them a quick rundown from positioning, paddling, when to push up, how to keep their center of gravity low.
Francesco listened carefully. His athlete's brain locked in.
Leah nodded earnestly, then whispered to him, "I'm going to fall immediately."
"You probably will."
"Supportive."
He smiled. "But I'll fall too."
The first few attempts were exactly what you'd expect.
Leah paddled, tried to pop up and immediately toppled sideways into the water.
She surfaced sputtering and laughing.
"I told you!"
Francesco wasn't far behind her, his first attempt ending in a splash and a mouthful of saltwater.
But something about it felt freeing.
No crowd chanting.
No pressure to perform perfectly.
Just trial and error.
By the fourth attempt, Francesco managed to stand for nearly three full seconds before losing balance.
Leah cheered like he'd scored a Champions League winner.
"Did you see that?!"
"I was there," he laughed.
Then it was her turn.
She pushed up again, arms steady this time, legs wobbling slightly and she stood.
For longer than he had.
"Leah!" he shouted, half amazed, half proud.
She let out a triumphant yell before collapsing into the sea.
When they finally dragged the boards back onto the pebbles an hour later, they were breathless, soaked, and grinning like idiots.
"That was amazing," Leah said, pulling the wetsuit down from her shoulders.
Francesco ran a hand through his damp hair.
"Okay. That was worth the cold."
They returned to their towel spot, collapsing onto it dramatically.
Cheddar climbed halfway onto Francesco's chest as if inspecting him for damage.
"Surf champions," Leah declared, raising an imaginary trophy.
Francesco turned his head toward the open water.
Further down, a small setup offered jet skis and paddleboards. A bright inflatable banana boat bobbed in the distance, with shrieks of laughter every time it tilted dramatically.
Leah followed his gaze again.
"You're not done, are you?"
He hesitated.
"Maybe not."
She sat up.
"What now?"
"Something fast."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Oh no."
But she was already smiling.
Within thirty minutes, they were strapped into life jackets beside a jet ski operator giving quick safety instructions.
Francesco took the handles first, Leah seated behind him, arms wrapping around his waist.
"You sure about this?" she asked.
"Trust me?"
"Mostly."
The engine roared to life beneath them.
The first surge forward stole her breath more effectively than the cold water had earlier.
They skimmed across the surface, spray flying up in glittering arcs around them.
Francesco kept it controlled at first, getting used to the throttle. Then he leaned slightly into a turn.
Leah squealed and tightened her grip.
"Francesco!"
He laughed over his shoulder.
"Too much?"
"Maybe a little!"
But she was laughing too.
They carved wide arcs across the open water, Brighton shrinking slightly behind them, the pier standing proud against the horizon.
For a moment, it felt like flying.
When they finally slowed and circled back, Leah rested her chin briefly against his shoulder.
"That was insane."
He nodded, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins.
"Good insane?"
"Very good insane."
After returning the jet ski, they opted for something slower as they paddleboarding together this time. It required more balance and cooperation.
They wobbled constantly, bumping into each other, laughing whenever one shifted weight too suddenly.
At one point, Francesco tried to show off by kneeling and standing in one smooth motion.
The board tipped immediately.
They both fell in again.
Leah resurfaced laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"You can't turn everything into a competition!"
"I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were."
He grinned, unable to argue.
By early afternoon, they were sun-warmed, salt-streaked, and thoroughly exhausted in the best way.
But Leah wasn't done.
As they lay back down on their towels, she nudged his arm.
"One more thing."
He squinted at her.
"What?"
She gestured toward a small kiosk advertising snorkeling gear rentals.
Francesco blinked.
"In Brighton?"
"Why not?"
He considered it.
The water wasn't tropical-clear, but near the rocky areas, there would still be marine life.
"Alright," he said finally. "Let's explore."
They rented simple masks and snorkels and walked toward a quieter rocky stretch slightly away from the busiest swimmers.
Cheddar remained under shade with fresh water and occasional head pats from a friendly nearby couple who promised to keep an eye on him.
The snorkeling experience was calmer.
Slower.
They waded into waist-deep water and lowered their faces beneath the surface.
The world changed immediately.
Sound dulled.
Light shifted.
Small fish flickered near the rocks from silver flashes darting between shadows. Seaweed swayed gently with the current like underwater gardens.
Francesco swam a little further along the rock line, Leah following close behind.
He pointed downward at a small crab scuttling sideways across the seabed.
She gave him a thumbs up underwater.
It wasn't dramatic.
Not coral reefs or vibrant tropical fish.
But it was peaceful.
Intimate.
The kind of quiet exploration that felt completely removed from stadium roars and camera flashes.
When they resurfaced after nearly forty minutes, Leah pushed her mask up onto her forehead.
"That was actually beautiful," she said softly.
Francesco nodded.
"Different kind of beauty."
They walked back to their towels hand in hand, exhausted but glowing.
Cheddar greeted them like they'd returned from a week-long expedition, tail wagging furiously.
Leah collapsed onto the towel again, stretching out fully.
"I think we did everything."
Francesco lay beside her, staring up at the sky.
"Everything on day one."
She laughed lazily.
"We're going to sleep so well tonight."
He turned his head slightly to look at her.
Salt drying on her skin. Hair tangled from wind. Sun-kissed shoulders.
Completely relaxed.
"Worth it?" he asked quietly.
She didn't hesitate.
"Every second."
For a while, neither of them moved.
The sun sat high and generous above them, warming skin that had been dunked in cold water more times than it probably deserved. The wind had softened slightly, carrying the steady hush of the tide rolling in and out across the pebbles.
Leah lay on her back, one arm flung lazily over her eyes.
Francesco watched her for a second before looking back up at the sky.
Everything in his body felt used in the best possible way. Not strained like after ninety minutes and extra time. Not tight from gym work. Just… pleasantly tired. The kind of tired that promised deep sleep later.
Cheddar shifted between them, rolling onto his side with a dramatic sigh as if he, too, had surfed, raced, and snorkeled all afternoon.
Leah peeked at the time on her phone.
"Okay," she said slowly, stretching her legs. "I think if we stay any longer, I'll actually melt into this towel."
Francesco groaned softly. "Five more minutes."
"You said that fifteen minutes ago."
He turned his head toward her. "Did I?"
"Yes."
She reached over and flicked a bit of dried salt off his shoulder. "Come on. I'm starving."
That did it.
He rolled onto his side and pushed himself upright, brushing pebbles off his calves. "Alright. Food motivation works."
They started packing slowly, without the rush of people trying to beat traffic or catch trains. Towels were shaken out, sand and stones scattering back to where they belonged. Leah folded theirs neatly despite the wind trying to undo her effort.
Francesco crouched to unclip Cheddar, who immediately stood and shook himself dramatically, as if he'd personally endured every wave.
"You did absolutely nothing," Francesco told him.
Cheddar blinked, unapologetic.
Leah slipped her oversized shirt back over her bikini top and tugged her shorts into place. Francesco pulled on his linen shirt again, leaving it open, letting the breeze cool his still-damp skin.
The walk back up the pebbled slope toward the promenade felt slower this time.
Their legs were heavier.
Sun-soaked.
Satisfied.
As they reached the paved path, Leah laced her fingers through his automatically.
"That was such a good day," she murmured.
He squeezed her hand. "Yeah. It really was."
A few people glanced their way. A couple of subtle whispers floated past them again.
"Is that—?"
"I think it is."
Francesco caught someone smiling at him from a nearby bench. He smiled back, easy and natural.
But it felt different now.
Less intense.
Maybe because he wasn't arriving somewhere.
He was leaving the sea, barefoot and sunburn-kissed like everyone else.
They walked past ice cream stands and souvenir kiosks, the smell of fried dough and salt in the air. Leah paused for half a second near a gelato cart.
"Tempted?" he asked.
"Very," she admitted. "But if I eat now, I won't make it to actual dinner."
"You're the one who said you were starving."
"I am. But I want proper food."
He laughed softly.
They crossed the road carefully and headed back toward the hotel, the sea now behind them, the faint sound of gulls fading as buildings swallowed the noise.
The hotel doors slid open as they approached.
Cool air-conditioning wrapped around them instantly, a welcome contrast to the sun outside.
The lobby was busier than in the morning but calmer than the night before. A few heads turned.
A couple near the entrance nudged each other subtly.
One teenage girl froze mid-step and whispered something to her friend, who looked over and gasped quietly.
Leah leaned slightly closer to him, but she wasn't tense.
Just aware.
Francesco offered a few polite nods as they crossed the marble floor toward the elevator.
One man in a Brighton shirt approached gently.
"Sorry," he said kindly. "Didn't want to interrupt your day. Just wanted to say—big fan. You play with heart."
Francesco smiled warmly. "Thank you. That means a lot."
They shook hands briefly.
Then the elevator doors opened and gave them a small moment of separation from everything again.
Inside, Leah leaned her head back against the mirrored wall.
"I feel like I've run a marathon."
"You surfed for an hour," he teased.
"And raced you in freezing water."
"And won," he admitted.
She grinned smugly.
The elevator hummed upward.
When the doors opened to their floor, the hallway felt almost hushed. Soft carpet beneath their feet. Sunlight slipping in through the windows at the far end.
Francesco unlocked the door to their suite.
The moment they stepped inside, it felt like returning to something private.
Safe.
Cheddar bolted toward his travel bed near the window but then paused, uncertain whether to commit or follow them further inside.
Leah dropped the beach bag near the sofa and kicked her sandals off.
"Oh my God," she groaned, stretching her toes. "Hot shower. Now."
Francesco didn't argue.
They moved toward the bathroom together, peeling off sun-warmed clothes, dropping towels into a small pile near the door.
The shower started with a rush of steam.
This time, there was no hesitation about temperature.
Warm water cascaded down over tired muscles, washing away salt, sand, sunscreen.
Leah leaned her forehead lightly against the cool tile for a moment, letting the heat loosen the last tension in her shoulders.
Francesco stood behind her, hands resting at her waist.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She nodded, eyes closed.
"Just tired. In a good way."
He pressed a small kiss against her shoulder.
"Me too."
They stayed under the water longer than necessary. Not rushed. Not thinking about time.
Eventually, they stepped out, wrapped in thick white towels again.
The mirror fogged instantly.
Leah wiped a small circle clear with her palm and looked at their reflections, cheeks flushed from heat.
"We look like we've been on holiday for a week," she said.
Francesco chuckled. "It's been one day."
They changed into softer clothes this time.
Francesco pulled on loose grey joggers and a simple black T-shirt. Leah chose one of his oversized shirts, sleeves falling past her wrists, paired with cotton shorts.
Hair damp.
Skin warm.
Cheddar had relocated to the bed by the time they returned to the bedroom, sprawled in the center like he'd claimed it as his own.
Francesco raised an eyebrow.
"He's bold."
Leah crawled onto the mattress anyway, gently nudging Cheddar aside. "Move, king."
The dog shifted slightly but remained between them.
Francesco grabbed the remote from the bedside table and flicked the television on.
The screen lit up the dimming room with soft blue light.
They scrolled aimlessly at first.
News channels.
A cooking show.
A random travel documentary.
Leah curled onto her side, head resting on his chest.
He felt the steady rhythm of her breathing begin to slow again.
"Don't fall asleep," she murmured suddenly.
"I won't."
"You will."
"I won't."
She lifted her head slightly to look at him. "We need food."
Right.
Food.
As if on cue, his stomach growled faintly.
Leah laughed triumphantly. "See?"
She reached for the room service menu resting on the bedside table and flipped it open dramatically like she was unveiling a treasure map.
"Okay," she said, serious now. "This is important."
Francesco propped himself up on his elbow beside her, peering at the glossy pages.
The menu was surprisingly extensive.
Starters.
Mains.
Late-night comfort food.
Desserts that looked dangerously good.
Leah traced her finger down the page.
"We burned approximately a million calories today," she announced.
"That sounds scientific."
"It is."
He smiled lazily.
She tilted the menu toward him.
"What are you thinking?"
He scanned the options.
Grilled chicken with roasted vegetables.
Steak frites.
Seafood platter.
Burger with truffle fries.
His stomach reacted to nearly all of them.
"I could eat everything," he admitted.
"Same."
She flipped to another page.
"Okay, listen. We need balance."
He raised an eyebrow. "Balance?"
"Yes. Something healthy so we feel responsible… and something completely irresponsible."
He nodded slowly. "I like this plan."
She continued reading aloud.
"Spaghetti carbonara… fish and chips… club sandwich…"
He stopped her.
"Club sandwich."
She looked at him.
"You're sure?"
"With fries."
"Obviously."
She grinned and added it mentally to their imaginary order.
"I want the pasta," she decided. "And maybe… garlic bread."
"Maybe?"
"Definitely garlic bread."
He laughed.
She flipped to desserts.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"Sticky toffee pudding."
He didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"And ice cream."
"Also yes."
They looked at each other and burst out laughing again.
Leah reached for the phone on the bedside table.
"You're not getting up to answer the door later," she warned.
"I will."
"You'll be horizontal."
He placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "I promise."
She dialed room service and placed the order with a polite but clearly enthusiastic tone.
When she hung up, she dropped the phone onto the mattress and flopped back against him.
"Twenty-five minutes," she said.
"That's cruel."
She shifted slightly, resting her chin on his chest again.
The television continued murmuring in the background with some light comedy now, characters laughing canned laughter into the room.
Francesco's fingers traced idle patterns along her arm.
"You had fun today?" he asked quietly.
She didn't even think.
"Best day in a while."
He felt something soften in his chest.
"Even with the cold water?"
"Especially with the cold water."
He smiled.
They lay there, half watching the screen, half replaying moments in their heads.
Leah describing the crab underwater again.
Him insisting he had definitely stood on the surfboard longer than she remembered.
Her claiming victory anyway.
Cheddar snoring softly between them like an exhausted lifeguard.
The knock on the door came sooner than expected.
Leah gasped dramatically. "Food!"
Francesco groaned but forced himself upright.
"I said I'd get it."
"You did."
He padded toward the door, running a hand through his still-damp hair before opening it.
A hotel staff member stood outside with a wheeled trolley covered in silver lids.
"Good evening, Mr. Lee."
"Evening," Francesco replied warmly.
The aroma hit him immediately.
Fries.
Garlic.
Something sweet and rich beneath it all.
He stepped aside to let the trolley roll in.
Leah had already sat up fully on the bed, eyes lighting up.
"You're my favorite person right now," she told the staff member sincerely.
They both laughed.
Once the lids were lifted, the room filled with warmth.
The club sandwich stacked high.
Golden fries spilling out beside it.
A steaming bowl of pasta glistening under soft lighting.
Garlic bread arranged neatly.
Desserts waiting patiently on a separate plate.
Francesco signed the receipt quickly and thanked the staff again before closing the door.
Leah wasted no time sliding off the bed and onto the floor beside the small table where the food had been set up.
"Picnic style," she declared.
He joined her, sitting cross-legged opposite her.
Cheddar repositioned himself strategically nearby, hopeful.
They didn't bother with perfect table manners.
They passed fries back and forth.
Leah stole half his sandwich after insisting she only wanted a bite.
He dipped garlic bread into her pasta sauce without asking.
"This is ridiculous," she said between mouthfuls, laughing.
"In the best way."
They ate slowly at first.
Then faster.
Hunger from hours in the sea making everything taste better.
Eventually, they leaned back against the bed, plates mostly empty.
Leah placed a hand on her stomach dramatically.
"I regret nothing."
Francesco nodded in agreement.
"Sticky toffee pudding?" he asked.
She looked at him like he'd asked if she wanted oxygen.
"Obviously."
They shared it, alternating spoonfuls.
The sweetness melted warm and comforting after a day of salt and sun.
When the last bite disappeared, Leah fell back onto the carpet and stared at the ceiling.
"I physically cannot move."
Francesco laughed and pulled her gently back onto the bed beside him.
The television still flickered softly.
Outside, the sky had shifted toward evening again.
Another day closing.
Leah curled into him, satisfied and heavy with warmth.
"Tomorrow," she murmured sleepily, "we're doing absolutely nothing."
He kissed the top of her head.
"We'll see."
She swatted his chest lightly.
"Nothing competitive."
"No promises."
She smiled against him.
Within minutes, her breathing deepened.
Francesco stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of waves through the cracked balcony door.
His body ached pleasantly.
His mind felt quiet.
Brighton had given them a full day from sea, laughter, adrenaline, stillness.
And now, wrapped in soft sheets with Leah tucked against him and Cheddar snoring at their feet, it felt complete.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2016)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9