Page 15 of Entangled With You
“This is the most important homework that you’ll ever do because it’s to improve yourself. What I need you to do is to think about what would have happened if you had said goodbye all those years ago. Try to think of as many possible outcomes as you can, and what would have been your reaction to each outcome.”
I shake her hand as I make a mental note of my homework and head outside to call an Uber. It's going to be a long weekend, thinking about my favorite night of all time.
Chapter 6
Cattleya Cardona
The game was a dream; I played for eighty minutes and had a goal assist. Rosario is a strong opponent, and the number of faults from both teams was insane. It was a very physical match, which brings me to what I’m doing right now: taking an ice bath as part of my recovery routine that the physio recommended. I’m browsing my phone—since I really don’t want to think about how cold I am, and how much getting out of this tub is going to hurt—when I notice a little icon on my home screen that I’ve never seen before. It’s a little angel with heart eyes.
“Qué putas es esto? (What the fuck is this?),” I mumble. When I click the icon, my screen fills with a bunch of men. I’m 1,000% sure I didn’t download this app; I’m not sure how it got here, but even worse, several notifications are staring at me. I have fifteen matches. FIFTEEN! Matches for what? I look at Stefa, who is in the tub next to mine, and her shit-eating grin tells me everything I need to know.
“What the hell did you do?” I ask her, trying for a serious tone.
“Nah, boluda. I just gave you the little push you needed.”
I take a moment to analyze her words. I can see on her face that she meant no harm, but it feels pretty intrusive to install an app on my phone without my consent, especially since we don’t know each other that well yet.
“Hey, I’m sorry if I overstepped. I promise, I just did it in good fun. You can uninstall it and move on, you don’t have to go out with anyone if you don’t want to. I’m sorry,” Stefa says as I stare at her, trying to come up with something to say. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, although it would be warranted. I’m starting to fit in with the team, and I don’t want anyone to single me out because I can’t take a prank.
After a couple of minutes, I give Stefa a smile. “Yeah, I know you had good intentions. But honestly, I don’t feel like going out with anyone at the moment.” She smiles back at me, silently accepting my decision. I try to relax for the last ten minutes I have in this tub, closing my eyes, and right on cue, my mind goes to the dark-haired guy who will always be a part of my dreams.
“I left tickets for you and cuñi at the box office. I hope you guys can make it,” I tell my sister as I make my way to our training facility. This past week, I’ve decided to walk to and from instead of taking an Uber. I’m starting to appreciate the cold weather, and wearing cute jackets and beanies is definitely a plus.
“Aww, I feel so special. Make way, people, Cata Cardona’s sister has arrived,” Sofi says in a fake regal voice, and I throw my head back in a fit of laughter.
“You’re insufferable, Sofía Gómez.” The moment I say the words, my sister gasps, and I laugh harder.
“How dare you, Cattleya Milena. I am and will always be a Cardona. There’s no changing last names, nuh-uh.” I love how she defends our last name so adamantly; I feel the exact same way. If I ever get married, I don’t want to change my last name; it’s part of who I am. As I get closer to the facility, I’m spotted by a few waiting people nearby. By the time I realize they’re journalists, it’s too late, and I have no other option than to smile and chat with them for a bit. I usually reserve my chats for press conferences or when I’m with someone from PR, but I guess this time I’m flying solo.
“Hey sis, hopefully I’ll see you Sunday after the match. Gotta go. I love you.” I pocket my phone as I plaster a smile on my face.
“Hi Cata, how are you? Any chance you can share a few words for Bleacher’s Pulse? We’re a women’s soccer exclusive media outlet and would love to feature you.”
I need to be very smart about what I say next. I know there are some amazing journalists out there, but there are also plenty who only want a clickbait story and can twist your words to their advantage. “Nice to meet you,” I say as I extend my hand, waiting for an introduction and the woman is quick to shake my hand.
“Oh, of course. Where are my manners? I’m Romina Cutti. Nice to meet you too.”
I smile at her and tell her sincerely, “I’m cutting it close for training, but I’m very happy to be on this team. Both the players and staff are incredible, and we all are working toward the same goal. We’re going to give it our all for another victory this Sunday.” I smile again at her and start walking toward the gate where the security guard has been eyeing the entire exchange when Romina holds me by my shoulder. I don’t consider myself a short woman at 5’10” but apparently she thinks I am. I look at where her hand is grabbing me, then look at her in her eyes. If looks could kill, this woman wouldn’t be breathing; I don’t mind being touched by people who I allow to touch me, but the shoulder-grabbing felt more like a power move. Once I’ve stopped walking, she removes her hand.
“I’m sorry. It’s just I was hoping I could get a picture with you.” When I don’t say anything she adds, “for the note.”
I nod at her, and the man waiting with her gets his camera in position and snaps a couple of pictures. I nod at her with a curt smile this time and disappear into the facilities. As the gate is closing, I hear her in the distance, “Did you get everything? We’re going to have fun with this.” I wonder if I heard her correctly. I guess I’ll have to wait and see what she says in her post.
After another victory, I’m ecstatic in the locker room. Everyone is in good spirits and ready to continue the winning streak.
“What the actual fuck?” I hear Noelia shout, and everyone’s head swivels to her cubby.
“What happened?” Emma asks. Noelia lifts her gaze from the phone and looks directly at me, anger in her gaze.
“What did I do?” I ask, confused. I thought we had a great game.
“You? Absolutely nothing, but this bitch Romina wants to break the locker room.”
“What?” I ask again, clueless as to what is going on.
“Romina is a journalist and every season she tries to start drama. I’m not sure how she’s still an approved journalist in the league. Almost every team has raised complaints about what she writes, claiming she’s disruptive and she lacks the proof to support her claims. But so far, nothing has happened since she says she’s simply exercising her right of free speech.” Emma is the one to fill me in.
“Okay, so what did she write?” I ask because I want to know what got Noelia so pissed off.