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As the night drew to a close, the two of them shared a comfortable silence, each content in their own way. The world outside the restaurant, with its flashing lights and bustling streets, felt miles away. In that moment, it was just Francesco and Leah, and that was enough.
The night continued to flow with ease, the last traces of their meal lingering on the table as the final sips of wine made their way into empty glasses. Francesco and Leah sat back, the warm comfort of their surroundings mingling with the satisfaction of a meal well enjoyed. The quiet sound of the restaurant seemed to fade into the background, almost as if the two of them were cocooned in their own little world. A quiet, unspoken connection was building, one neither of them was quite willing to name just yet, but it was undeniable.
Just as they were settling into the moment, a small rustle at the edge of their table caught Francesco's attention. The waiter approached with a quiet smile, holding a small black leather folder in his hands. He placed it down gently in front of them.
"Your bill, sir, madam," he said, his tone polite but discreet, as though he knew the art of timing perfectly.
Francesco looked at the bill for a second, but before he could reach for it, Leah, who had already made her move, was faster. She slid her hand toward the folder with a grin, clearly ready to take control of the situation.
"I've got this," she said with a wink, her fingers brushing against the bill as she moved to open it. "It's my treat tonight like I said before. You're not getting away with that whole 'you chose the restaurant' excuse."
Francesco froze for a moment, his hand hovering above the table. The gesture was sweet and thoughtful, but there was a part of him that felt instinctively hesitant. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture, far from it. He was genuinely moved. But there was something about letting a woman pay that didn't sit well with him. It wasn't about the money—it never had been—but about something deeper. Perhaps it was the way he'd been raised, the pride that came with taking care of things himself, especially when it came to matters of generosity and respect.
Before Leah could reach for her purse, Francesco's hand shot out, covering hers gently.
"Wait," he said, his voice a little softer than he intended, as he quickly pulled the folder back toward his side of the table. "This one's on me."
Leah blinked at him in surprise, her brows furrowing slightly as she met his gaze. "Francesco, come on. I said that this was my treat right? You have to do—"
He cut her off with a small shake of his head, his expression firm but not unkind. "No, Leah. I know that yo said it was your treat tonight." He paused for a beat, making sure she understood. "But it's a way of saying thanks."
She leaned back, her arms folding across her chest as she watched him, a bemused look in her eyes. "But I already said on the phone that I treat you dinner when you back to London right? I do this to soothe your mind after the loss against Juventus"
Francesco gave a small, rueful smile, one that tugged at the corner of his lips. It was an expression Leah had seen before—the kind that suggested he was wrestling with something he couldn't quite articulate.
"I don't let anyone else pay because it's not something I'm comfortable with," he admitted, his tone quieter now. "But… this time, I want to. You've been a good friend, and you've been great company. I just… I need to do this. For myself, really."
Leah's gaze softened, her earlier teasing smile replaced with a look of understanding. She could see it in his eyes—the way he was trying to explain something that had always been ingrained in him, something that had shaped the way he saw the world. It was clear to her now that this wasn't just about money; it was about much deeper, something that spoke to the kind of man Francesco was—self-sufficient, proud, and fiercely protective of his independence.
She let out a soft sigh, then smiled in return, a small but genuine gesture that reached her eyes. "Alright. But I'm still going to thank you properly," she said with a wink.
Francesco's smile widened as he slid his card from his wallet and handed it to the waiter, who had been patiently waiting for their decision. The waiter took the card without a word, returning to the register as the two of them lingered in the quiet of their own thoughts.
Leah watched Francesco for a moment, her mind turning over the quiet intensity that had shifted over him. She hadn't known this side of him before—not like this. He was always so composed, always in control, and it was rare to see him let down even the smallest wall. But there was something about tonight, something about the way the evening had unfolded, that made her feel like she was seeing him more clearly than ever.
"Thanks, though," she said softly after a moment, her voice quieter than before. "I appreciate it."
Francesco glanced up at her, his smile still lingering as he leaned back in his chair. "You don't have to thank me. I meant what I said."
The words were simple, but the weight behind them was undeniable. Leah nodded, accepting the sentiment for what it was. They didn't need to say much more. There was something about the simplicity of the moment that made it feel all the more meaningful.
As the waiter returned with the receipt, Francesco quickly signed it and added a generous tip, his signature flowing with practiced ease. He handed it back to the waiter and leaned forward, ready to wrap up the night.
"Alright," Francesco said, pushing his chair back slightly. "You ready to head out?"
Leah nodded, standing up and slipping her purse over her shoulder. "Definitely. But I'm not letting you get away with this next time. I'll do the treat."
Francesco raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "We'll see about that. But I'll take your challenge."
As they stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air wrapped around them, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the meal they had just shared. The streets of London were still alive, streetlights casting a golden glow over the pavement, and the occasional distant hum of traffic filling the silence. Francesco walked beside Leah, hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but alert, always aware of his surroundings.
Leah glanced at him as they approached his car—a black Honda Civic. It wasn't the flashiest ride, but Francesco had never been one to flaunt his wealth unnecessarily. He preferred practicality, efficiency, and comfort over extravagance. Which Leah found it lovely.
Francesco unlocked the doors with a press of a button, and they both slipped inside. The car's interior was clean and smelled faintly of the leather seats and a subtle citrus air freshener. He adjusted his seat slightly before starting the engine, the low rumble filling the quiet space. As he pulled away from the curb, the city lights flickered past them, the roads quieter than they had been earlier in the evening.
For a while, they drove in companionable silence, the occasional hum of the engine the only sound between them. Then, Francesco glanced at Leah out of the corner of his eye.
"So," he started, breaking the silence, "how's the Arsenal women's team doing? What's their fixture list looking like?"
Leah, who had been watching the city blur past the window, turned toward him with a small smirk. "Oh, now you care about the women's team?" she teased.
Francesco chuckled. "Hey, I've always cared. I just know you keep better track of it than I do."
Leah sighed, stretching slightly in her seat. "Well, we've got a packed schedule coming up. There's a big match against Chelsea in a couple of weeks, which is going to be tough. We're currently sitting second in the table, just a couple of points behind them, so if we win, we'll overtake them."
Francesco nodded, genuinely interested. "That's a big one, then. How are you feeling about it?"
She exhaled, tapping her fingers lightly against her thigh. "Confident, but with cautious. Chelsea's always a tough opponent, and they've been in great form lately. But we've got the quality to beat them. We just need to execute properly."
Francesco grinned. "Sounds familiar. Arsenal just loves to keep things interesting, huh?"
Leah laughed. "Always. Wouldn't be Arsenal if we didn't make things harder for ourselves."
They continued talking about football, bouncing between topics—the women's team, the men's struggles, the upcoming international breaks. It was easy, the kind of conversation that flowed naturally, the way it always did between them.
Eventually, Francesco pulled onto Leah's street, slowing down as he approached her home. He eased the car to a smooth stop in front of her place, shifting into park as he turned slightly to look at her.
"Well," he said, "home sweet home."
Leah unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't move to get out just yet. Instead, she turned to him with a small smile, with her expression he can't read. "Yeah… thanks for driving me back."
Francesco shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Wouldn't let you take a cab this late, would I?"
She chuckled softly but then hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Hey… before I go inside, do me a favor?"
Francesco raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "That depends. What kind of favor?"
Leah's smile turned slightly mischievous. "Just… close your eyes for a second."
His brow furrowed in amusement. "Close my eyes? Why? Are you gonna pull some kind of prank on me?"
Leah rolled her eyes but laughed. "No, just trust me."
Francesco hesitated, eyeing her suspiciously, but eventually let out a small sigh and leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes. "Alright, fine. But if I open them and you've drawn something on my face, we're gonna have a problem."
Leah didn't answer, and for a brief second, Francesco felt nothing but the stillness of the car and the soft sound of the city outside. Then, suddenly, he felt it—a light, warm, unexpected pressure against his cheek. It took him half a second to register what had happened.
A kiss.
By the time his eyes snapped open, Leah was already pulling back, her expression unreadable, but there was a playful twinkle in her eyes. Before he could say anything, before he could process the rush of warmth that spread through his chest, she was already pushing the car door open.
"Goodnight, Francesco," she said smoothly, stepping out onto the pavement.
Francesco blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Leah—"
But she was already walking toward her front door. She turned at the last second, giving him one last glance, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Then, with a quick wave, she disappeared inside.
Francesco sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, trying to suppress the ridiculous grin that was threatening to spread across his face. He exhaled, shaking his head to himself.
Leah Williamson, he thought to himself, was going to be the death of him.
Francesco sat in his car for a long moment after Leah had disappeared inside, his fingers still gripping the steering wheel. The lingering warmth of her kiss on his cheek was enough to send his mind into overdrive, replaying the moment over and over again.
He let out a slow breath, shaking his head as a grin tugged at his lips. Leah Williamson. She had always been unpredictable, confident, and full of surprises, but this? He hadn't seen it coming. And the way she had done it—so smooth, so effortless—left him completely off guard.
Alright, Francesco, pull yourself together.
With one last glance at her house, he sighed and started his car. The engine hummed to life, and he pulled away from the curb, making his way through the quiet streets of London back to his apartment.
---
By the time he reached his building, the underground parking lot was nearly empty, save for a few cars that belonged to other residents. He smoothly pulled into his designated spot, turning off the ignition before leaning back against the seat. The events of the night played in his mind again, making his smile return as he ran a hand through his hair.
Leah had always been a good friend—one of his closest, really—but tonight had felt different. There was something unspoken in the air between them, something neither of them had acknowledged outright but both had undoubtedly felt.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he stepped out of the car and headed toward the elevator. The cool metal doors slid open, and he pressed the button for his floor, leaning against the side of the elevator as he exhaled deeply.
His mind was still on Leah as he stepped into his apartment. It was quiet, just the way he liked it after long days of training and matches.
After kicking off his sneakers, he headed straight to the bathroom. The warm water from the shower helped ease the tension in his muscles, but his mind was still replaying that damn kiss.
He stood under the water, grinning like an idiot. What the hell was that, Leah?
It had been a simple kiss on the cheek, nothing dramatic, nothing over the top. And yet, the effect it had on him was undeniable that made his heart beat nonstop and his mind always replaying that moment. He could still feel the softness of her lips against his skin, the warmth of her breath right before she pulled away.
Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, ran a hand through his damp hair, and made his way to bed.
Tomorrow was training, and if there was one thing he couldn't afford, it was being late. Wenger wouldn't tolerate it.
Still, as he lay down, his eyes staring at the ceiling, the grin refused to leave his face.
---
A loud buzzing filled the room, jolting Francesco awake. He groaned, blindly reaching for his phone on the nightstand.
The name flashing on the screen made him squint. Jorge Mendes.
Why the hell was his agent calling him this early?
He quickly answered, his voice groggy. "What is it?"
Instead of answering, Mendes laughed.
Francesco frowned, pushing himself up from the bed. "Jorge?"
"Congratulations, kid," Mendes said, amusement dripping from his tone. "You've officially got your first scandal."
Francesco's brows knitted together as he sat up straighter. Scandal? His pulse quickened slightly. "What scandal!?" he demanded, fully awake now.
Mendes chuckled. "Check the TV."
With a sense of dread settling in his stomach, Francesco grabbed the remote and turned on the screen. The familiar bright yellow banner of The Sun appeared on the screen, and right there, bold as ever, was the headline:
ARSENAL GOLDEN BOY AND GOLDEN GIRL ARE IN LOVE!!!
His heart nearly stopped.
Right below the headline was a picture.
A picture of Leah kissing his cheek.
Francesco stared at the screen, his mouth slightly open. His mind scrambled for an explanation, trying to process how the hell this even happened.
"Son of a—"
Mendes was still laughing on the phone. "Oh, you're trending everywhere, Francesco. Twitter, Instagram, you name it. Fans are going crazy. Some are celebrating, others are heartbroken."
Francesco dragged a hand down his face. "This is ridiculous. It was just—" He stopped himself. Just what? A friendly kiss? Would anyone even believe that?
Mendes hummed. "You better brace yourself. Journalists are already reaching out for a statement."
Francesco groaned, already dreading training. His teammates were going to have a field day with this, and he feels that he wouldn't like it.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 16 (2014)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : None
Match Played: 26
Goal: 31
Assist: 12
MOTM: 8