Page 55 of Offside Angle

I let out a slow breath and lean back against the headboard, running a hand through my hair. She’s not wrong. Even back then, when we were just two stupid teenagers who didn’t know what to do with the tension between us, there had always been something there. Something that never really went away, no matter how hard either of us tried to bury it.

“Well…Some of us tried very hard to forget.”

My mom tilts her head slightly, her expression softening. “Patience, mi vida,” she scolds. “What did I teach you, hm?”

I know exactly what she’s referring to. She’s said it to me more times than I can count over the years — whenever I got impatient, whenever I wanted things to move faster than they should, whenever I tried to force something that wasn’t ready.

I smile faintly, even though my chest feels a little tight.

“Some things can’t be rushed,” I murmur, repeating the words she’s told me a hundred times before.

She nods once, satisfied. “Exactly,” she says. “So stop trying to figure it all out in one day. Let it breathe.”

“He has a girlfriend…” I say, the words coming out quieter than I intend.

My mom’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Oh?” she says, her tone curious but not surprised.

I roll my eyes. “And she’s nice,” I add, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “Unfortunately.”

My mother chuckles again. “Santi…” she says, shaking her head at me. “Don’t sound so bitter.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I look at her through the phone. I know she’s right. “I’m not bitter,” I mutter, even though we both know that’s a lie.

My mom gives me that look — the one that says she’s known me far too long to fall for that.

“You are,” she says gently. “And that’s okay. But don’t let it turn you into someone you’re not. You’ve always been patient. Don’t lose that now just because it’s hard.”

I’ve spent years being patient with this thing between me and Matteo. Years waiting for him to stop running from whatever this is. But watching him with Lena, watching him try so hard to hold onto something that clearly isn’t enough for him anymore… it’s testing that patience more than I’d like to admit.

“I know,” I finally say. “I’m trying.”

“Good,” she says. “Because if he’s worth it, he’ll figure it out. And if he’s not… then at least you’ll know you didn’t lose yourself trying to force something that was never meant to be.”

My phone buzzes against the nightstand, the notification lighting up the screen. I glance at it while my mom is still talking and feel my stomach dip a little when I see who it’s from.

Zara.

Come downstairs for lunch.

I sigh and look back at my mom on the screen.

“Oh, Ma… I gotta go,” I say, already reaching for the button-up shirt I left draped over the chair earlier. “Work stuff.”

She gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push. “Alright, baby. Be good,” she says. “And think about what I told you.”

“I will,” I promise, then end the call.

I pull the thin black button-up over my head and start slipping on my shoes, moving on autopilot. But halfway through tying the laces, I stop.

Maybe I shouldn’t go.

Maybe I should just stay in the room and eat later, once the team has gone to pre-game practice. The idea of sitting in the same room as Matteo right now — after everything that’s happened between us — feels like too much. I don’t know where we stand. I don’t know how he’s going to act around me in front of everyone. And I’m not sure I’m in the mood to pretend nothing’s going on.

My phone buzzes again.

NOW SANTI!

I stare at the message, then let out a short laugh under my breath. Zara doesn’t play when it comes to punctuality.