Regrets
Alessia woke up to the relentless pounding of her own heartbeat inside her skull. Her mouth was dry, her limbs heavy, and when she peeled her eyes open, she regretted it immediately. The morning light filtered through the curtains, too bright, too harsh, and she groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face into the pillow.
God.
She hadn’t felt this rough in a long time.
For a moment, she just lay there, trying to piece together the night before. She remembered inviting Leah to the pub, remembered the way she’d thrown herself into the night in an attempt to prove -to who, she wasn’t sure- that everything was normal. That there was nothing wrong with her.
But then she also remembered the way she’d acted.The way she’d touched Leah more than usual. The way she’d looked at her. The way she’d lost control of herself. She groaned again, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and she barely had time to register it before Leah pushed it open, poking her head inside.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” she said, her tone amused but soft. “How’s your head?”
Alessia winced, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position. “Terrible,” she admitted, rubbing at her temples.
Leah smirked, stepping further into the room and holding out a bottle of water and a couple of tablets. “Figured as much.”
Alessia took them gratefully, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks.”
Leah lingered, hovering by the edge of the bed.
“You were in a bit of a state last night,” she said lightly, though there was something behind her tone that Alessia couldn’t quite place.
Embarrassment flared hot in her chest. “Yeah, well.” She cleared her throat, focusing on unscrewing the cap of the water bottle. “You didn’t have to look after me, you know.”
Leah scoffed. “Course I did.”
Alessia took a sip of water, hoping Leah would drop the subject and thankfully, she did. Instead of pressing, she reached out, ruffling Alessia’s already-messy hair.
“You’re lucky I like you, Less.”
Alessia froze for a fraction of a second, barely long enough to be noticeable. Leah’s hand lingered a little longer than usual before she finally pulled away, and Alessia told herself that the warmth in her chest was just from the embarrassment. Not from anything else.
She forced a smile, tilting her head back against the headboard. “Guess I am.”
The drive to training was mostly quiet. Not in an uncomfortable way, just in the way where Alessia was still too hungover to contribute much, and Leah seemed to sense that. She filled the silence with the radio, humming along to the songs as she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.
Alessia tried not to think about how much she liked the sound of her voice. Tried not to let the memory of last night creep up on her, of the way she’d let herself stare too long, touch too much.
This was normal. Just like old times. She was making an effort, like she promised herself she would and that meant keeping things as normal as possible.
By the time they arrived at training, her headache had dulled to a manageable throb, and she was relieved when the routine of the day took over. She made sure to pair up with different people for drills, throwing herself into them with as much focus as she could muster.
And for the most part, it worked.
It was easier to forget when she wasn’t near Leah, when she wasn’t constantly reminded of the way she made her feel. The only problem was that Leah didn’t seem to be giving her as much space as she wanted.
She wasn’t clingy, exactly, but she was definitely closer than usual. Small touches here and there. A hand on her back when they walked back inside after warm-ups. A nudge of her shoulder against Alessia’s during a water break. Alessia knew what it was.
Pity.
Leah must felt bad for her, thought she was still hungover and miserable, and she was just trying to be nice. The thought made Alessia feel sick, because she didn’t want Leah’s pity. She just wanted things to be normal, and so, for the rest of training, she fell into old habits again, ones she’d promised herself she’d stop.
She avoided Leah.
Not completely -she wasn’t that obvious- but enough. It was only for today, she told herself. Just today. Tomorrow, she’d be normal again. Tomorrow, she’d start fresh. Tomorrow, she’d pretend last night never happened.
And she definitely wouldn’t be drinking again, especially not with Leah.
*
The drive home was just as quiet as the drive there.
Leah had tried to start a conversation a few times, but Alessia had kept her answers short, blaming it on exhaustion. It wasn’t a complete lie. Her head still felt heavy from her hangover, her body still ached from training, and every time Leah looked at her, she had to fight the urge to squirm.
By the time they got back, she felt like she could breathe again, and she was quick to make a start on dinner. Cooking helped. It was normal. Something she could do without thinking, something that grounded her.
Leah hovered in the kitchen for a bit, chatting about training and upcoming fixtures, but Alessia just nodded along, not trusting herself to say much more than the occasional hum of acknowledgement.
Leah didn’t seem to mind. Didn’t call her out on it, not until after dinner, anyway.
When they’d finished eating and cleaned up, Leah leaned against the counter, arms folded as she watched Alessia fold up a tea towel and drape it over the handle of the oven.
“Movie night?”
Alessia hesitated. She wanted to. Wanted to curl up on the sofa, wanted to listen to Leah ramble about whatever film she picked. But she couldn’t. Not today.
So she forced a small smile and shook her head. “I, uh…I promised Tooney I’d call.”
It was a low blow, she knew that, and by the way Leah’s expression flickered, just for a second, she knew Leah knew it too. But Leah just nodded, giving her a small, understanding smile.
“Alright,” she said easily, though there was something else in her eyes that Alessia couldn’t quite decipher. “Tell her I said hi.”
Alessia swallowed past the lump in her throat as she nodded her head, not glancing back at Leah as she made her way up to her room. She hated this. Hated how guilty it made her feel. Hated how Leah let her go so easily. Hated herself for being relieved about it. Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she’d make it right.