Something About You

Bali?

As Layla stood back, her hands still tingling from treating Aaron just moments ago, Alea appeared out of nowhere. The older woman, who had been watching from the sidelines, swiftly made her way toward Aaron. Without so much as a glance in Layla’s direction, Alea knelt beside him and immediately began checking his leg, her movements swift and authoritative.

Layla, who had been focused on Aaron's condition, found herself stepping back, not by choice but by necessity. Alea had subtly but deliberately pushed her to the side, nudging her out of the way as if Layla’s presence were more of a hindrance than a help.

Layla’s fists clenched at her sides, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. What was that for? she thought, biting back the urge to say something aloud. She stood still, watching Alea take over, her calm professionalism masking the irritation that was gnawing at her insides.

It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing, Layla fumed internally. I’ve been here, working with Aaron, and now she just swoops in like she owns the place.

Alea’s hands moved expertly over Aaron’s ankle, and Layla could see Aaron wince slightly, but he said nothing, allowing Alea to continue. Layla couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance. Not at Aaron—he was the patient, after all—but at Alea’s clear disregard for her presence. She didn’t even ask if I was done, Layla thought bitterly.

She wanted to step forward, to assert herself, but something held her back. Maybe it was the way Alea commanded the space, or maybe it was the unspoken hierarchy that Layla was still figuring out. Either way, she found herself frozen, forced into a passive observer role.

Why does she always act like this? Layla’s thoughts spiraled as she watched. It’s like she has something to prove, and I’m just collateral damage.

Her gaze shifted from Alea’s focused expression to Aaron, who was still sitting there quietly. He seemed unfazed, his breathing more regular now but still not fully recovered. Layla swallowed the sharp edge of her irritation, trying to focus on him instead. I’m here for Aaron, not for her. He’s the one who matters.

But even as she repeated that to herself, the sting of being pushed aside lingered.

Layla exhaled slowly, her frustration still simmering beneath the surface, but she tried to calm herself down. Alea is part of the medical team too, she reminded herself, forcing her hands to unclench. It wasn’t personal—at least, that’s what she tried to convince herself. Alea had every right to be there, to check on Aaron, just like she did.

Still, it didn’t make it any easier to swallow the way she had been shoved aside. It’s just her style, Layla thought, trying to rationalize it. Maybe she’s just used to being in control.

She watched as Alea continued to work, her movements precise and confident. Layla took a step back, physically and mentally distancing herself from the situation. You’re here to help, she told herself. This isn’t about competition. We’re a team.

But even as she repeated those words in her mind, the sense of being sidelined gnawed at her. It wasn’t just about Alea pushing her back physically—it was about the unspoken power dynamic that made Layla feel like she was always one step behind.

Focus on Aaron, she reminded herself again, stealing a glance at him. His breathing had stabilized, and his attention was fully on Alea now. Layla sighed, willing herself to be professional, even if a part of her still wanted to prove that she belonged there just as much as Alea did.

As the second half of the match began, the atmosphere in the stadium buzzed with anticipation. The crowd roared as players ran back onto the field, but Layla barely registered the excitement around her. She and the rest of the medical team had just finished treating Aaron, and now she stood on the sidelines, trying to refocus her thoughts on the game.

But it wasn’t easy.

Standing beside her, Alea exuded a smug air of confidence, clearly basking in the attention she had gotten from being the one to check on Aaron up close. Layla could feel the shift in Alea’s posture, like she was silently announcing to everyone around her that she was the one Aaron trusted most. The vibe was unmistakable.

“You know,” Alea said casually, though her tone carried a hint of superiority, “Aaron and I have a pretty solid routine when it comes to his recovery. He’s always comfortable with me around. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve worked together for years.”

Layla felt a twinge of irritation at Alea’s words. The implication was clear—Alea wanted her to know that she was closer to Aaron, both professionally and maybe even personally. Layla clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She knew this wasn’t the time or place to get into it, but it was hard not to feel provoked.

“Oh?” Layla replied, keeping her tone neutral. She didn’t want to give Alea the satisfaction of seeing her ruffled, but it was clear that Alea was trying to make a point.

“Yeah,” Alea continued, flashing a knowing smile. “He really trusts me with his injuries. You could say I’ve become his go-to person for anything medical.” She tossed her hair back slightly, as if emphasizing her importance.

Layla resisted the urge to snap back. Of course, you’d say that, she thought bitterly. But instead of engaging, she simply nodded and looked back at the game. Alea could say whatever she wanted, but Layla wasn’t here to compete for Aaron’s attention. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t going to let petty power plays distract her from it.

Still, the way Alea carried herself—like she was staking a claim on Aaron, like she was the one who mattered most—gnawed at Layla. She knew Alea was trying to send a message, and for a moment, it was hard not to let that get to her.

But then Layla straightened her shoulders. Let her brag all she wants, she told herself. I’m not here for that.

As the match resumed, Layla focused on her role, determined to prove herself in her own way—without falling into Alea’s game.

The match ended in a thrilling victory for Aaron’s team, the cheers and chants of the fans echoing through the stadium as the final whistle blew. The air was electric, charged with the energy of triumph. Layla stood at the sidelines, the overwhelming noise ringing in her ears, watching the players celebrating on the field. They had played hard, and the elation was palpable—arms raised in victory, teammates laughing and embracing, basking in the glow of a hard-earned win. Even from where she stood, she could see the exhaustion in Aaron’s movements, but his smile was unmistakable, his face lighting up as the crowd cheered him on.

The relief that washed over Layla was almost as intense as the game itself. It had been a tense ninety minutes, and despite the scare of Aaron’s earlier injury, he had not only pushed through but excelled, showing everyone why he was the star. Her eyes followed him as he joined the rest of his teammates, surrounded by the media and fans. As much as she wanted to focus on the victory, her gaze briefly flickered toward Alea, standing a few feet away.

Alea was radiant, her confident stance and smile never faltering. She wore Aaron’s number 22 jersey, the bold digits standing out against the fabric. Layla sighed, trying to push down the slight irritation rising in her chest. She didn’t want to think about Alea, not right now. Not when she should be happy for Aaron’s team, for the victory they’d worked so hard for.

But then, something strange happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and when she turned to look, Aaron was walking toward her. Layla’s heart skipped a beat, confusion swirling in her mind. Why is he coming this way? she thought.

For a moment, she wondered if she was mistaken. Maybe he was headed for Alea, who stood nearby, looking effortlessly beautiful in that jersey. It would make sense—Alea had been by his side earlier, treating him when he needed medical attention. But as he got closer, Layla realized with a start that Aaron wasn’t veering toward Alea at all. He was coming directly toward her.

She stood frozen in place, her pulse quickening as he closed the distance between them. By the time he was standing in front of her, she could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of mint and something masculine, something so distinctly Aaron. It was a scent she had noticed before, but only now, with him so close, did it strike her just how familiar and comforting it was.

Layla blinked, unsure of what to say. Why was he here? Was he going to say something? Her mind raced, trying to figure out what could have brought him to her. Maybe it’s a mistake, she thought, maybe he’s just passing by. But when his eyes met hers, there was no mistaking his intention. Aaron wasn’t looking at anyone else. His gaze was locked on hers.

For a second, his expression softened, and then, to her complete surprise, he puffed out his cheeks in a light, playful gesture, looking almost like a child trying to make her laugh. It was so unexpected that Layla found herself blinking in confusion. Before she could process what he was doing, Aaron spoke, his voice carrying a teasing warmth that caught her off guard.

"You have a beautiful smile, It reminds me of Bali."

Layla’s mind stuttered to a halt. Her smile? And Bali? She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure how to react to this sudden compliment, let alone the strange connection to Bali. It felt so out of place, so unlike the serious, composed Aaron she was used to seeing.

Before she could form a coherent thought, he gave her a small, knowing smile, like he was aware of the confusion he had just caused but didn’t mind at all. Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, Aaron turned and started walking away, leaving Layla standing there, dumbfounded and speechless.

She watched him disappear into the crowd of his teammates, still trying to process what had just happened. Her cheeks burned with a blush she couldn’t control, and her heart raced. She felt like she had been swept up in a whirlwind, left behind in the chaos of her own emotions. What did he mean by that? she thought, still clutching the feeling of his words.

Layla stood there, her mind replaying the moment over and over. Had he really just complimented her smile? And why did he bring up Bali? As the celebration continued around her, she couldn’t help but feel like she had just experienced something deeply personal and utterly confusing. It left her feeling vulnerable, like she was being let in on a secret she didn’t fully understand. Why Bali?

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was electric, buzzing with the raw energy of victory. Shouts of joy echoed off the tiled walls, and laughter filled the space as the players let loose, reliving every thrilling moment of the match. Bottles of water were tossed playfully across the room, the floor becoming slick with the remnants of their impromptu celebration. Teammates clapped each other on the back, some still catching their breath as they recounted the tackles, the near-misses, and the goals that had secured their win. The sense of camaraderie was thick in the air, almost tangible, as if the victory itself had bound them all closer together.

But amidst the euphoria, Aaron stood apart, leaning silently against the cool tiles of the wall, his eyes distant. He wore a faint smile, but it felt like a mask—thin, fragile, and not quite reaching the depths of his eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, his posture seemingly relaxed, but there was a tension there, a subtle stiffness in the way his shoulders slumped. From a distance, he might have looked like he was simply soaking in the moment, content to let the others bask in the glory. Yet, for anyone paying attention, it was clear that something weighed heavily on him.

He stared at the floor, his gaze unfocused as the noise around him became a distant hum. The adrenaline from the game had faded, leaving behind an exhaustion that wasn’t just physical. It ran deeper, a mental fatigue that clouded his thoughts. He had played well, given everything he had, and yet the usual post-victory high was missing, replaced by an unsettling heaviness in his chest. The kind of heaviness that no amount of cheering or back-slapping could lift.

Aaron sighed quietly, running a hand through his damp hair before rubbing the back of his neck, where tension had gathered like a knot he couldn’t loosen. He didn’t want to bring down the mood, didn’t want his teammates to notice the cloud hanging over him, so he kept his expression neutral. But inside, it felt like something was unraveling, something he couldn’t quite grasp or fix. The game had been tough, sure, but this feeling—it wasn’t just about football. It was something bigger, something personal, and it was starting to seep into everything.

The pressure, the expectations, the constant demands—it all felt heavier than usual tonight. As if today’s victory, though sweet, wasn’t enough to ease the burden he was carrying. Aaron had always been good at handling the weight of the game, at taking the pressure in stride, but now… it was different. There was something looming ahead, something more than just another match, and it gnawed at him quietly, a constant whisper at the back of his mind that he couldn’t ignore.

He kept his smile in place, even as the noise of celebration swirled around him, trying to stay in the moment for his teammates' sake. But deep down, Aaron knew this victory didn’t erase whatever it was that had been weighing on him. In fact, it only made it more noticeable, as if the joy in the room had thrown his own restlessness into sharper relief. While everyone else felt lighter, freer, he felt trapped under the weight of something far more than just the game.

As he leaned against the wall, arms still folded tightly, Aaron exhaled again, his breath slow and deliberate. He wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong, only that something felt off, unsettled. And no amount of noise or celebration seemed to drown out the quiet storm building inside him.

James, sensing something was off, approached Aaron with a gentle pat on the shoulder, trying to lift his spirits. “Hey, mate, what’s with the long face? You should be smiling, not sulking. We just won!” His grin was wide, but it faltered when Aaron only gave a small, tired smirk in response. Aaron’s usual energy was missing, and it didn’t take long for James to pick up on it.

Aaron leaned his weight against the locker, his broad frame sagging just slightly as if the victory on the field hadn’t done anything to ease the pressure weighing down on him. His mind seemed elsewhere, distant, as though winning today’s match was just another task checked off his endless list of expectations.

Noticing the shift in Aaron’s demeanor, other teammates started exchanging glances. A few of them began to quiet down, the celebration gradually losing its rowdiness as attention turned toward their star player. Brian, who was usually perceptive, approached with a frown of concern. “Aaron,” he called softly, “You good?”

Aaron shook his head slightly, but didn’t offer an explanation, his eyes fixed on the ground as if that was the safest place to look. His teammates stood around him, a mix of understanding and curiosity in their expressions. The weight of expectation, the constant pressure to perform—it was something many of them could relate to, even if Aaron felt it on a much larger scale.

Brian placed a hand on Aaron’s back, his voice more serious now. “You’ve got someone waiting for you outside,” he said, eyeing Aaron carefully, as if gauging how he would react.

For a moment, Aaron didn’t move, his gaze flickering toward Brian but remaining unreadable. He took in the information quietly, processing it without a word. Finally, he pushed himself off the locker, his muscles tensing as if preparing for whatever awaited him beyond the door.

He walked toward the exit, every step deliberate, the noise of the locker room fading behind him. As Aaron neared the door, the celebratory cheers and laughter from his teammates sounded distant, almost muted, like they belonged to another world he couldn’t fully enter. The hallway outside felt cold in comparison, the air sharper as it hit him, waking him from his stupor.

With one final glance back, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, wondering who was waiting for him—hoping it wasn’t someone who would only add more weight to his already heavy thoughts.

Aaron stepped out into the hallway, the echoes of celebration fading behind him, leaving only the cool, sterile atmosphere of the stadium corridor. As he walked, his thoughts were still heavy, his body tense from the physical and mental exhaustion of the match. He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering weight.

Up ahead, he noticed someone familiar—Layla, standing near the entrance, her back turned to him as she adjusted the strap of her medical bag. She looked focused, seemingly unaware of his presence as she rummaged through her things, probably preparing to leave.

Without thinking, Aaron called out, “Layla!”

She stopped in her tracks, turning around with a surprised look on her face. For a moment, Aaron hesitated. He hadn’t really thought through what he was going to say, and now, with her looking at him, he felt at a loss. His mind raced for something, anything to break the awkward silence.

His eyes flicked to her plain clothes, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Why aren’t you wearing a jersey?”

Layla blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. “I… didn’t get one,” she replied, her voice soft, unsure of where the conversation was going.

Aaron frowned slightly, his mind working faster than his words. Without a second thought, he reached for the hem of his own jersey, the number 22 still damp from the sweat of the match. He pulled it off and handed it to her, his movements casual but with a kind of determination that left no room for argument.

“Here,” he said, holding the jersey out to her. “Wear mine.”

Layla stared at the jersey in disbelief, her fingers brushing against the fabric. “But—”

“You should have one,” Aaron interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “Now you do.”

Before Layla could protest further or even find the right words to respond, Aaron was already turning on his heel, walking away down the hall as if the exchange hadn’t left her completely stunned. Layla stood there for a moment, clutching the jersey in her hands, her mind spinning as she watched him disappear down the corridor. There was something about the way he had looked at her, the easy gesture of giving her his jersey, that made her heart race, leaving her more confused than ever.