Between the Flags.

The Ex-Factor.

“Esa es Isa. Definitivamente.”

"Definitely, Isa."

Leah reached her just as Olga stalked off with a dramatic toss of her ponytail, and Isra let her eyes follow her with a gaze hot enough to burn holes through fabric.

“What was that about?” Leah asked, frowning slightly as she looked between Olga’s retreating back and Isra’s still-simmering expression.

Isra shook her head, jaw tight. “Nada,” she muttered, though her eyes clearly said otherwise. She still hadn’t blinked.

Leah, sensing the tension but knowing Isra needed a distraction more than a dissection, grinned instead.

“Well,” she said, already rummaging into the depths of her backpack, “I brought you something else…”

Isra turned her head, instantly suspicious. “Leah.”

“You’ll love it, promise.”

Out came the surprise, crisp and folded in her hands — a white shirt with the classic red badge front and centre. The name on the back? Williamson. 6.

Isra gasped like she’d just witnessed someone drop a baby.

“¡Ay Dios mío!” she exclaimed, stumbling back a step. “Leah, put that thing away before someone uses it as a doormat.”

Leah burst out laughing and held it up even higher like it was a trophy, swishing it in front of Isra’s horrified face.

“You’re telling me you don’t want to wear my name across your back?” she teased, waving it again with extra flair. “How rude.”

Isra ducked, arms flailing as she tried to swat it away. “I’m going to kill you. I’m actually going to kill you.”

Just as she lunged, half-laughing and half-serious, Laia wandered past holding a snack and paused at the sight of Isra mid-swat with Leah dancing backwards holding the shirt like a matador.

“Oi, Isra! What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Laia raised an eyebrow, biting into a biscuit.

Isra turned to her with a look of complete betrayal. “What I’m doing? There is no consent here! She’s attacking me with the most cursed item in this room!”

Leah was still grinning like a menace, holding the shirt just out of reach.

“You could’ve at least brought an Arsenal one,” Isra huffed. “Not… fucking England.”

Laia just snorted and kept walking. “Honestly, I’d rather you did fight Olga. This is embarrassing.”

Leah winked, folding the shirt smugly. “Just wait till I bring the socks too.”

“Nooooooooo.”

_____

Isra stepped outside first, shoulders stiff, spine straight. The cool air didn’t do much to settle the heat still simmering in her chest. Leah followed, clutching her bag, the distant thrum of voices from inside fading as the door shut behind them.

Isra’s eyes flicked over the small crowd lingering around the car park. That’s when she saw them—Alexia and her family. And Olga.

Olga, who was currently shoving her tongue down Alexia’s throat like the world was ending.

Isra blinked slowly. “Dios mío,” she muttered.

Leah’s eyes followed her line of sight and grimaced. “Right. Yeah. That’s… not subtle.”

Isra looked away first, jaw clenched tight. Leah turned fully to her and, without a word, pulled her into a tight, grounding hug. Her arms wrapped around Isra’s waist, her head tucked just under her chin.