Something About You

Côte d’Été.

After two days of resting and trying to clear her mind, Layla decided it was time to return to work. She wasn’t the type to sit around for long, and the longer she stayed home, the more restless she felt. The city streets welcomed her back with their usual bustle, and for a moment, the familiar rhythm of London made her feel grounded again.

Before heading to the club, Layla stopped by a perfume store on a whim. The rich scents and elegant glass bottles always intrigued her, though she rarely splurged on fragrances herself. She browsed the shelves aimlessly, running her fingers over the neatly aligned testers.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she lifted one of the testers to her nose. A soft spritz of floral musk filled the air—sweet but subtle, with a hint of bergamot that reminded her faintly of someplace warm. She closed her eyes, savoring the scent for a brief second.

Just as she was about to set the bottle back down, someone accidentally bumped into her from behind. The sudden contact made her stagger forward slightly, and the perfume slipped from her fingers. It hit the tiled floor with a sharp clink, followed by the faintest shatter as the glass bottle cracked.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The voice behind her was high-pitched and rushed. Layla turned around to see a young woman—probably in her mid-twenties—staring down at the fallen bottle with wide, panicked eyes.

Layla blinked, still processing what had just happened. “It’s okay,” she murmured, but the woman was already speaking to the store clerk.

“That was my fault!” the woman insisted, her hands raised as if to show her innocence. “I bumped into her—it’s totally on me. Please, I’ll pay for the bottle.”

The clerk, who had approached with a cautious expression, gave the woman a reassuring nod. “It’s alright, miss. Accidents happen.”

Layla knelt down to pick up the broken bottle’s cap, but the other woman quickly waved her off. “No, no, really—don’t worry about it! I’ll take care of it.”

Layla straightened up, a little taken aback by the woman’s insistence. “You really don’t have to—”

“I insist,” the woman cut her off with a nervous laugh. “Besides, it’s the least I can do for bumping into you.”

There was something about the woman’s energy—bright, talkative, and slightly anxious—that made Layla want to smile despite the awkward situation. It wasn’t often she ran into someone this apologetic over a minor mistake.

“Alright,” Layla relented with a small shrug. “Thanks.”

The woman gave her a relieved grin, then turned back to the clerk to settle the p*****t. Meanwhile, Layla stood there, rubbing the back of her neck, still a bit disoriented from the encounter.

The store clerk had just finished calculating the damage when Layla noticed something peculiar—the young woman who had bumped into her was staring. Not in an unsettling way, but with an expression Layla couldn’t quite decipher, like the woman was trying to piece together something in her mind.

Their eyes met briefly, and the woman gave a soft, almost sheepish smile. Layla hesitated for a moment, then decided to break the silence.

“Hey,” she began, taking a step closer. “I’m Layla, by the way.”

The woman blinked, surprised for a second, then her expression melted into something friendlier. “Alaia,” she said warmly, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you… and sorry again about all this.”

Layla shook her hand, noticing how warm Alaia’s grip was, the kind of warmth that felt genuine. “It’s really no big deal. But, uh… thanks for covering the bottle.” She nodded toward the counter, where the store clerk was still processing the damage.

To Layla’s surprise, Alaia gave a small, mischievous grin. “Well, I guess since I’m already paying for it…” Without missing a beat, she reached for another bottle—an exact match of the broken perfume—and placed it on the counter. “Can you add this one to the total too?” she asked the clerk, flashing a quick, playful smile.

Layla raised a brow, confused. “You don’t have to do that. Seriously.”

Alaia ignored her, already digging into her purse to pay. “I want to,” she said with a lightness that made it impossible to argue. “Call it compensation for the chaos.”

Before Layla could fully react, Alaia turned back toward her and, with a quick motion, pressed the perfume into Layla’s hands. “Here. Take it.”

Layla blinked, looking down at the bottle, startled by the sudden gesture. “I… you really didn’t have to—”

“I know,” Alaia cut in smoothly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “But I wanted to.”

And just like that, she smiled again—bright, quick, and fleeting—before stepping away from the counter. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Layla,” Alaia called over her shoulder as she made her way toward the door. “Enjoy the perfume!”

Before Layla could say anything else, Alaia was gone, disappearing out the door and blending into the busy London street like a breeze that came and went too fast to catch.

For a moment, Layla just stood there, holding the perfume in her hands, her mind still reeling from the encounter. The whole thing felt surreal—like a random, fleeting moment that was somehow too significant to dismiss but too strange to fully understand.

She stared at the sleek glass bottle in her hands, the scent of the perfume still lingering in the air. The label read: Côte d’Été. The notes on the bottle mentioned citrus, white flowers, and a hint of salt—fresh and evocative, almost like an ocean breeze. Something about it felt fitting, though she couldn’t quite explain why.

With a small sigh, Layla slipped the perfume into her bag, still trying to piece together the strange encounter. Alaia’s sudden generosity left her feeling both flattered and puzzled. People didn’t usually go out of their way for her, let alone buy her things without reason. She found herself wondering if she’d ever see Alaia again, though something told her that encounter was the kind you only get once.

Realizing she had spent more time in the store than she intended, Layla glanced at her phone. Lunch was almost over, and she still needed to get to work. With a hurried breath, she tightened the strap of her bag and made her way out of the store, the familiar weight of responsibility settling back on her shoulders.

As she stepped into the chilly London air, the perfume bottle in her bag tapped lightly against the other contents, a subtle reminder of the odd little detour she had just experienced. But she pushed the thoughts aside. There was no time to dwell—she needed to focus on work.

...

In the quiet hum of the medical room, Layla set about tidying up. The cabinets clinked softly as she organized supplies—rolls of tape, cold sprays, and compression bandages neatly lined up. The lingering scent of disinfectant mixed with the slight chill of the room's air conditioning, and she pulled her sleeves down slightly to ward off the cold.

Sarah sat cross-legged on one of the treatment tables, unwrapping a sandwich, her eyes watching Layla as she worked. "So? How’ve the last two days been?" Sarah asked casually, taking a bite of her food. “You’ve been pretty quiet about it.”

Layla exhaled a small laugh, brushing her hair back as she gathered used towels and tossed them into a hamper. "Nothing dramatic. Just... you know. Went perfume shopping earlier today, accidentally knocked one over—well, technically someone bumped into me—and a random stranger bought me a bottle."

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth still full. “Wait, what? A stranger bought you a bottle of perfume?”

"Yep." Layla gave her a half-smile, leaning against the counter as she folded her arms. "She introduced herself. Her name's Alaia. It was weird, though—one second she’s crashing into me, and the next she’s handing me perfume like it’s the most normal thing in the world."

Sarah whistled, clearly impressed. “Damn, must be nice. Maybe I should start hanging around perfume shops.”

Layla rolled her eyes but laughed softly. “Right. I’m not sure if it was luck or just... I don’t know, weird coincidence."

Sarah gave her a sly look, biting off another piece of her sandwich. “Weird things have been happening to you a lot lately. Like Aaron giving you his jersey, for example?”

Layla froze for a second, a blush creeping up her neck. “That was... different,” she muttered, pretending to busy herself with cleaning instruments.

“Different? How exactly?” Sarah teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He gave you his jersey, Layla. Do you know how many people would kill for that kind of moment?”

Layla shook her head, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "It’s not like that."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but willing to let it slide—for now. “Okay, okay. But I’m just saying... He’s been acting weird too. You know that, right?”

Layla shrugged, avoiding the conversation by wiping down the counters. "It’s not my business if he’s acting weird. He’s got his own stuff going on, I guess."

Sarah watched her carefully, sensing Layla’s reluctance to dive into the topic. “Fair enough," Sarah said, stretching her arms over her head. "Anyway, enough about mysterious strangers and football players. What else have you been up to these past two days?”

Layla took a deep breath, resting her hands on the counter behind her. "Honestly? Not much. Mostly just trying to get through the days, one at a time. Oh, and—" she paused, "I talked to my mom yesterday."

Sarah perked up at the mention. "Yeah? How’d that go?"

Layla hesitated for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “It was fine. She reminded me to take my meds, like usual.”

"And? No drama?"

"Not really, just… I asked her if we ever went to Bali when I was a kid," Layla admitted quietly, glancing down at her hands. “And apparently, we did. I don’t even remember it.”

Sarah tilted her head. “What made you ask about Bali?”

Layla opened her mouth to answer, but then stopped. How could she explain the weird encounter with Aaron without making it sound like she’d spent the last two days obsessing over a cryptic comment?

Instead, she just shook her head. “It’s... nothing. Just a random thought.”

Sarah gave her a knowing look but didn’t press further. "Well, if you ever want to take a trip back and jog your memory, I'm in," she offered playfully. “Bali beats cold, rainy London any day.”

Layla smiled at that. “Yeah. Maybe someday.”

The conversation drifted into lighter topics after that—Sarah venting about an annoying client she’d had to deal with earlier in the day, and Layla laughing as she told her about how she almost left the house wearing mismatched shoes that morning.

Time seemed to pass a little more easily in the quiet of the medical room, with only the sound of their voices and the occasional clink of equipment breaking the silence. For a moment, it felt like things were back to normal, like the last two days of confusion and weird encounters were just minor bumps in the road.

But in the back of her mind, Layla couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slowly shifting—whether it was within her or somewhere just out of reach, waiting to unfold.

As Layla was finishing up organizing the medical room, folding the last of the towels, Sarah piped up casually from behind her, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention,” Sarah started, her tone light but curious. “Aaron was asking about you yesterday.”

Layla stopped mid-fold, the towel slipping slightly from her grip. She blinked, quickly recovering before turning around to face Sarah. “He was... asking about me?”

“Yeah,” Sarah confirmed, walking over to plop herself onto one of the benches. She waved her hand around as if it wasn’t a big deal, but her eyes gleamed with interest. “You left early, remember? Something about not feeling well? Anyway, Aaron came by after practice and was like, ‘Where’s Layla?’ And when I told him you’d gone home, he just nodded, but he looked... I don’t know, kind of distracted after that.”

Layla’s heart gave an unexpected lurch at the mention of Aaron’s interest in her whereabouts. She tried to play it off, turning back to her task of folding towels, though her movements were now slower, more deliberate, as if she needed to concentrate on something mundane to keep herself grounded.

“Maybe he just wanted to check on something work-related,” Layla muttered, hoping her voice sounded casual enough to dismiss any hint of the turmoil she suddenly felt brewing inside.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Sarah replied with a smirk, not buying Layla’s nonchalance for a second. “Because a football star like Aaron Bekker totally just drops by to check on ‘work-related’ stuff. Makes sense.”

Layla didn’t respond, her mind spinning. The memory of that unexpected DM—the one from Aaron's verified i********: account—flashed back with full force. She could still recall the moment she’d unlocked her phone, fully expecting to see a message from her mom, only to be hit with the sight of Aaron's name and that little blue checkmark staring back at her.

And the message itself… It wasn’t just some casual inquiry. It was full of concern, asking if she was feeling okay, if she was sick, and whether she was resting enough. The kind of message you’d send to a close friend, not a physiotherapist you barely acknowledged outside of work.

It had thrown her off so much that she didn’t even know how to respond. In fact, she hadn’t responded at all. She had just closed her phone, heart racing, and tried to forget about it. But now, hearing that Aaron had asked about her in person, that unease crept back in, tugging at her thoughts.

Should she tell Sarah? Layla hesitated, opening her mouth slightly, ready to spill everything. Maybe Sarah could offer some insight or, at the very least, laugh about it with her and make the whole thing feel less... bizarre. But as soon as she was about to speak, she clamped her mouth shut again.

What was she supposed to say? That Aaron had messaged her privately, and she didn’t know what to make of it? That she couldn’t understand why he was acting so strangely around her? And that, despite her best efforts to act like none of it mattered, she was definitely overthinking the situation?

No. Sarah would jump all over it, she was sure. She’d start reading into things too much, teasing Layla, maybe even suggesting that Aaron had a crush on her or something equally ridiculous. The last thing Layla needed was for this to blow out of proportion. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about the whole thing yet, let alone what anyone else would make of it.

So instead, Layla kept folding the towel in her hands, biting back the words she had almost let slip. “It’s probably nothing,” she said, her voice quieter this time, as if she was trying to convince herself more than Sarah. “He was probably just curious. No big deal.”

Sarah shrugged, seeming to let it go for the moment, though the mischievous twinkle in her eye remained. “If you say so. But hey, next time Aaron ‘just happens’ to be curious about you, maybe you should hang around longer. You know, for work purposes,” she added with a wink.

Layla rolled her eyes, giving Sarah a playful shove with her shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied dryly, but her heart was still fluttering with a mix of confusion and anticipation.

As they continued cleaning up the room, Layla’s thoughts drifted back to Aaron’s DM, the weight of those unread words still sitting in her inbox. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t bring herself to respond or why the whole situation felt so complicated. But one thing was clear: Aaron was starting to push his way into her mind more than she liked to admit.

And Layla wasn’t sure what to do with that.

...

After tidying up the medical room, Layla slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way down the hall toward the field. As she walked, she pulled out her phone, unable to resist the temptation to check Aaron’s DM again. The notification was still there—his profile picture, the little blue checkmark, and those words asking if she was okay.

Her thumb hovered over the message, torn between opening it or continuing to ignore it. She hated how it made her feel—like she owed him some sort of response. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny the strange flutter in her chest every time his name popped up.

Why does this feel so complicated? she thought, sighing inwardly. Just as she was about to close the app, a familiar voice broke through the quiet corridor behind her.

“Are you gonna accept my message, or...?”

Layla spun around in surprise, heart skipping a beat. Standing a few steps behind her, wearing a slight smirk, was Aaron. His training kit was casually draped on him, and his messy hair gave him a relaxed, boyish look, but his eyes were sharp, catching every flicker of her hesitation.

“I…” Layla stammered, clutching her phone tighter as her mind scrambled to process what was happening.

Aaron took a step closer, tilting his head slightly, as if amused by her reaction. "Accept it. And follow me,” he added, his tone light but expectant.

Layla blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. She knew she didn’t really have a reason to refuse, but the directness of his request caught her off guard. There was no playfulness or teasing this time—just a calm certainty, like he was used to people listening to him without question.

“I—um—okay,” she mumbled awkwardly, fumbling with her phone under his steady gaze. With a few quick taps, she hit accept on his message and then followed him. The second she did, a small notification appeared on her screen: Aaron Bekker followed you back.

Aaron’s smirk widened into a full grin, and Layla found herself momentarily disarmed by how genuine it looked—like he was actually pleased by this tiny exchange. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, his voice low and easy, as if this was all perfectly normal.

Layla opened her mouth to respond—something, anything—but the words got stuck in her throat. Before she could gather her thoughts, Aaron gave her a quick, playful wink.

“Thanks,” he said simply, and without waiting for a response, he turned and started making his way toward the field, his strides long and relaxed.

Layla stood frozen in place, staring after him as he disappeared toward the pitch. The warmth of his smile lingered in her mind longer than she wanted to admit, leaving her flustered and unsure of what just happened.

Her phone buzzed softly in her hand, a reminder of the DM she’d finally accepted. But Layla was too distracted to check it again right now. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and tucked her phone back into her pocket.

“What the hell just happened?” she whispered to herself, her heart still racing.

Shaking her head, she forced herself to start walking again, but her mind stayed stuck on that grin—so easy and familiar, yet somehow weighty, as if it carried more meaning than she was ready to unpack.

And for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t sure whether that encounter had left her more confused—or excited.