More than a match | Alexia Putellas

She tucked her phone into her coat pocket as she walked through Heathrow's arrivals terminal, wheeling her small suitcase behind her. A group of tourists huddled near a Costa Coffee, and a businessman was loudly scolding someone over Bluetooth, but then, there she was.

Leah Williamson. Grinning like a menace behind sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low over her blonde hair.

She wore a clean white tee under a cropped, boxy bomber jacket, navy with minimal detailing, paired with high-waisted black trousers and fresh Nike Dunks. Effortlessly cool. A small gold chain peeked out from under her collar, catching the light just enough.

"Oi! Superstar!" Leah called out.

Gracie laughed despite herself. Leah was leaning casually against a pillar, one foot kicked up behind her, blonde hair tucked into a hat like she was trying to stay low-profile but clearly wasn't.

"I see you're still allergic to the attention." Gracie teased as they embraced.

"You've been gone two months and that's the first thing you say to me?" Leah pulled back, mock offended. "Ungrateful little rat."

Gracie rolled her eyes but her smile stayed, wide and unguarded.

"I missed you, you dramatic gremlin."

"There it is." Leah said smugly, slinging an arm over her shoulder and leading her toward the car park. "Say it again. Slower."

Gracie didn't, she just bumped her hip against Leah's and followed her out into the London air, already smelling of rain and city grit.

Leah drove them to Gracie's parents house where they'd be staying for dinner.

Her parents' house hadn't changed much. Still warm, still filled with photos of Gracie in youth football kits and homemade art projects from primary school framed like they were Monet originals.

Her mum had insisted on cooking, despite Gracie's warning they'd probably order takeaway.

Leah, of course, had already taken up her usual spot, feet on the arm of the sofa, sipping from a cup of tea like she paid the bills.

"Do you live here again?" Gracie asked, dropping her bag by the stairs.

"I do when you're in town. I'm the emotional support best friend."

"Is that what we're calling nosy now?"

Leah smirked. "I prefer loyal companion with excellent hair."

Gracie's dad emerged from the kitchen wiping his hands on a tea towel. "There she is! Look at you, jetsetter."

Gracie melted into his hug, suddenly aware of how much she'd missed the weight of home.

Her mum followed shortly after, face already glowing. "You look tired, sweetheart. But you're glowing. Spain suits you."

Gracie gave a tired little laugh. "It's the sun. And the... citrus-scented athletes."

Leah nearly choked on her tea.

Her mum paused, narrowing her eyes. "Citrus what?"

"Nothing." Gracie said quickly. "Just... Spanish body wash. Big fan."

Leah raised a brow but said nothing, for now.

Not much later dinner was ready and they all sat down. The table was full, roast chicken, potatoes, salad with extra lemon, and a giant dish of mac and cheese "just in case" they weren't full enough.

Gracie sat at her usual spot beside Leah, across from her mum, who was already halfway through a story about a dog in the park that had stolen someone's sandwich. Her dad was carving into roast chicken, and Leah had kicked off her shoes like she lived there, which, honestly, she kind of did.