Something About You

Barneeca.

Layla sat cross-legged on a chair in the medical room, her gloves on, though her attention wandered from the work in front of her. Across the room, Sarah was crouched beside James, one of the forwards who had managed to injure himself during training—nothing serious, just a mild sprain, but as usual, James was being over the top about it.

“God, I think my ankle’s gone. It’s done. No more football for me. Just wheel me out now,” James groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the treatment bed, his hand flung over his eyes like a tragic hero.

Layla snorted, biting her lower lip to stop herself from bursting out in laughter. Sarah, though, had no such reservations. She rolled her eyes, slapping James lightly on the shin.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Sarah said with a grin. “You sprained it. You didn’t lose a leg.”

“I feel like I lost a leg!” James shot back, shifting slightly on the bed, wincing on purpose. “Are you even sure I’ll be able to walk again? Like... what if it’s more serious than you think?” He raised his eyebrows dramatically, clearly enjoying the attention.

Sarah snorted, unfazed by his antics. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll put it in the group chat. ‘James Sprained His Ankle: Funeral Arrangements Pending.’”

Layla couldn't contain herself any longer and let out a burst of laughter. “Oh my God, you two are impossible.”

Sarah turned, grinning. “Hey, I deal with this every day. This is just Tuesday for me.” She glanced back at James and added, “For the record, this is officially the third time this month he’s come in here acting like he’s about to meet his maker.”

“Hey!” James huffed, looking indignant. “I’m just in touch with my pain, okay? Not all of us are cold-hearted like you two.” He dramatically clutched his chest, earning another laugh from Layla.

Sarah stood up, crossing her arms, smirking at him. “Well, if you're so fragile, maybe I’ll start carrying a teddy bear in my kit bag for you next time. Think that’ll help?”

James gave her an exaggerated look of betrayal. “I thought we were friends.”

“Sorry, buddy.” Sarah patted his shoulder condescendingly. “There’s no room for drama queens on the field. You’ll have to suck it up.”

Layla wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, shaking her head. “You two are like an old married couple.”

James gasped in mock horror, pointing at Sarah. “You hear that? She thinks we argue like a couple. Sarah, are you proposing to me?”

Sarah let out a loud laugh, shaking her head. “You wish.”

James grinned slyly, leaning back on the bed. “Nah, I’ll stick to sprains. Less painful than dating you.”

Sarah gave his shoulder a playful shove, and Layla erupted in laughter again, holding her stomach.

“God, James,” Layla managed between giggles, “you should be in theater, not football.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” James exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically as if he’d finally found someone who understood him.

Sarah shook her head, still smiling. “Alright, alright. Drama class is over. Now, sit still so I can tape you up.”

Layla leaned back in her chair, the playful exchange easing some of the tension she’d been carrying without realizing. There was something comforting about moments like these—simple, silly interactions that made her forget, even if just for a little while, about everything else happening outside the walls of the medical room.

James winced as Sarah adjusted his ankle, but the grin stayed on his face. “I’m telling you, I’ll be back on the field in no time. Just you wait.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sarah muttered, focused on wrapping the bandage. “And next week, you’ll be back here saying you’ve broken your soul or something.”

James laughed, the sound bright and infectious. “You’re not wrong.”

Layla smiled, feeling a strange sense of warmth settle in her chest. Moments like these were why she loved working here, even if her job often felt exhausting. These players might be ridiculous, but they had their own charm. And despite the chaos, she knew she belonged here—somehow.

Layla was still chuckling from James' antics, the air in the medical room light and easy—until the door creaked open and Aaron stepped inside. The room fell quiet instantly, like someone had hit the mute button. James paused mid-sentence, blinking in confusion, and even Sarah raised an eyebrow at the unexpected entrance.

Aaron’s broad frame took up most of the doorway, and without saying a word, he walked right up to where Layla was sitting. He crouched down in front of her, resting his arms casually over his knees, his face at her eye level. His proximity sent a wave of tension rippling through the room, but Layla tried her best to look unaffected.

Aaron leaned in slightly, his expression unreadable, and his dark eyes locked onto hers for a moment—a long, still moment that made Layla’s heart feel like it was tangled in knots.

“Do you have an EC spray?” Aaron asked in a low voice, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

Layla blinked, thrown off by how suddenly he’d appeared in front of her and how serious he looked. “Uh—yeah,” she muttered, fumbling with the bag beside her. She pulled out a small bottle of ethyl chloride spray and handed it to him.

Aaron took the spray but didn’t move away. Instead, he lifted his chin slightly, tilting his head so their faces were level—his eyes tracing her features as if seeing her up close was the only thing that mattered. Layla could feel her pulse hammering in her ears as he studied her for a beat longer, his gaze soft but focused, like he was looking at something he’d been searching for.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Aaron’s attention drifted ever so slightly to the wall behind her. He looked away, just enough to take the weight of his stare off her shoulders. And with a small, almost imperceptible smirk at the corner of his lips, he said softly,

“Spray it.”

Layla stared at him, confused. “What?”

Aaron’s eyes flicked back to hers for a fraction of a second, but he didn’t answer directly. Instead, he rested his forearm on his knee and gave a little shrug, as if this was all perfectly normal.

“I just wanted to see you... more closely,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “That’s why I’m here.”

Layla’s heart skipped a beat.

“To see you,” Aaron added, his eyes calm but unwavering, “more closely.”

The words lingered between them, heavy and unexplainable. There was a strange sense of finality in the way he said it, like he wasn’t asking for anything in return—just making a quiet confession of a truth he couldn’t hide any longer.

Sarah blinked, exchanging a bewildered look with James, whose jaw was slightly open. It was as if neither of them could believe what they were witnessing.

James squinted at Aaron, then at Layla, and whispered to Sarah, “Did he... just say what I think he said?”

Sarah gave a small shake of her head, as if trying to process it herself. “No clue. But this is the weirdest EC spray request I’ve ever seen.”

Layla’s fingers tightened around the bottle in her hand, unsure of what to do next. She felt like the world had tilted just slightly, leaving her off balance. Aaron didn’t move, didn’t explain himself any further—he just stayed there, crouched in front of her, as if this moment was exactly where he was meant to be.

And for reasons Layla couldn’t fully understand, she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to leave.

Layla could feel the heat creeping up her neck, spreading to her ears like wildfire. Her whole body felt awkward, her heart racing too fast to keep pace with her thoughts. She wasn’t used to being caught off guard like this—especially not by Aaron, crouching inches away from her with that half-smile still lingering on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She shot to her feet abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping noisily against the floor. "I-I should—uh, pack up. Yeah," Layla mumbled, avoiding his gaze as she turned toward her medical bag. Her hands moved frantically, stuffing random items inside just to keep herself busy. Anything to avoid standing there too long with Aaron looking at her like that.

Aaron stayed where he was, unfazed by her sudden escape. Meanwhile, Sarah exchanged another glance with James, whose eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Smooth,” James muttered under his breath, barely containing his grin.

Just as Layla slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to bolt, James—never missing a chance to stir the pot—asked casually, “Hey, Aaron, what was that ‘B’ thing all about in your celebration? The whole letter thing? That seemed... different.”

Layla stiffened at the question, sneaking a glance at Aaron, hoping the conversation would move on quickly. But Aaron, still crouching like he had all the time in the world, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at James and then, out of nowhere, called her name.

“Layla.”

Layla paused, turning back toward him, her expression caught between confusion and wariness. “What?” she asked, feeling a bit defensive, as if preparing for whatever strange comment Aaron had in store next.

Aaron stood up slowly, dusting off his hands like it was just another ordinary day—like he wasn’t about to make her heart do somersaults again. He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering as if this was something important, something deliberate.

“Layla Barneeca Anderson,” Aaron said, his voice steady and calm.

Layla blinked, startled. “What?” she echoed, the sound barely escaping her lips.

Aaron tilted his head slightly, and his lips curled into a subtle grin—just enough to make her question if he was messing with her or not.

“Barneeca,” he repeated slowly, almost savoring the sound. “It starts with the letter B, right?”

Layla’s brain went blank for a second, her heart stuttering painfully in her chest. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. The weight of his words, the way he said her middle name like it meant more than just a random syllable, left her reeling.

Sarah gasped softly, finally catching on to what Aaron was implying. James, on the other hand, furrowed his brows, still looking confused. “Wait—what?” James muttered, glancing between Layla and Aaron like they were speaking in code.

Layla could feel her pulse hammering in her throat. Her ears burned again, her palms felt clammy, and suddenly, standing there under Aaron’s gaze felt too intimate—like everyone in the room could see right through her.

Aaron didn’t explain further. He just gave her that same calm, knowing look, his dark eyes glimmering with something that made Layla’s breath hitch—like he knew exactly what he'd just said and what it would do to her.

“Wait—” James piped up again, still lost. “So the B… was for her?”

Aaron gave a nonchalant shrug, slipping the EC spray into his pocket like this entire exchange was no big deal. “Maybe,” he said casually, before turning back toward the door.

Layla stood frozen for a moment, her mind trying—and failing—to keep up with everything that just happened. She couldn’t believe it.

Barneeca.

Aaron had made the ‘B’ in his celebration about her.