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“No wonder you hated this office so much, you never made it your own,” Elise says, dropping into the chair behind my desk and swivelling around in it. Her dark strands wrap around her face as she spins faster.

She jolts to a stop as I grab the headrest to halt her movements.

“What, peligrosa ? Did you expect me to put up pictures of my favourite girl in here?” I ask, tipping her chin up till our eyes meet.

She peers around the room, making a show of looking at the bare white walls as a smirk stretches her lips. “Yeah. I think that’s exactly what it needed.”

“Mhmm, and I’m sure that wouldn’t have caused any problems for us, huh?”

I drop to my knees in front of her, gripping the tops of her thighs and sliding her toward me, running the tip of my nose up the inside of her thigh. “It seems it’s too late now, but maybe we can make some last memories in here before we go. Yeah?”

It’s been three days since we returned from Argentina, and it’s like I’ve been floating on cloud nine, completely enamoured by the ease of my day-to-day with Elise.

I go to practice, and she and Adhira came to our game last night, making the game that much more fun for me to play.

We've spent every night cuddled in bed together, and my heart has been absolutely bursting with love. It’s a warm feeling, like honey and hot tea when you’re sick, or any other time of the day really, according to the Brits I’m surrounded by.

This feeling of being with Elise makes everything else slow to a crawl; it’s all more manageable and less bitter with her around and the weight of Carlos’s accident lifted from my shoulders.

I’ll never get tired of her.

I swipe a finger over the seam of her thin athletic shorts, dragging it through the slickness that’s already waiting for me, and her eyes swirl with grey clouds like a brewing storm.

“Fuck me,” she says, her words a breathy whisper, “ Coach.”

I swear to god, that word is like a trigger for my dick, so just like she demands, that’s exactly what I do.