The Striker's Forbidden Love

Chapter Eleven – The Question Behind the Question

The scout was younger than Mia expected early forties, maybe, with the kind of patient, unreadable expression that probably served him well across a career spent watching hundreds of players and revealing nothing about what he actually thought of any of them.

But before she reached him, there was the press.

They caught her just outside the tunnel, three reporters with recorders thrust forward, a small clutch of cameras angled her way. Mia's pulse spiked instantly, Elena's printed sheet flashing through her mind like a lifeline.

"Mia! Two goals today, incredible performance. Talk us through the winner." One reporter said, recorder hovering inches from her face.

"Credit to the whole team, honestly. That ball came from a great buildup…. I just had to finish it."

Mia said, exactly the kind of answer Elena had drilled into her, safe and boring and entirely unquotable in any dangerous way.

"There's been some chatter online about your relationship with Coach Reyes." Another reporter cut in, sharper, angling for something with actual teeth. "Care to comment?"

Mia's stomach dropped, but her voice, thankfully, didn't waver. "Coach Reyes is an excellent coach. That scouting report he built for today's match is the reason I found the gaps I did. That's the story here, good coaching, good preparation."

"So there's nothing more to it?" The reporter pressed, unwilling to let it go that easily.

"There's a match report and a scoreline, and I'd love to talk about either of those." Mia said, forcing a smile that felt more like armor than anything genuine, and pushed past before the follow-up could land.

She made it to the scout with her hands shaking and her heart pounding harder than it had all matched.

"Torres. Good match." Williams said, extending a hand, a faint trace of a London accent still audible underneath years of travel. "Marcus Williams. National program."

"Thank you." Mia said, shaking it, painfully aware of how much mud was still clinging to her boots. "Sorry, I would've cleaned up if I'd known"

"Don't worry about it. I've seen worse." Ade said, and there was something almost kind in the small smile that followed. "Two goals, good movement off the ball, excellent reading on their defensive shape in the first half. That last part especially. Not many strikers your age play that smart that consistently."

"Thank you." Mia said again, unsure what else to offer, her brain still catching up from the adrenaline of the match to the reality of the conversation she was apparently having.

"I'll be straightforward with you, since straightforwardness tends to save everyone time." Ade said, tucking his clipboard under one arm.

"You're on our radar. Seriously. I'll be at your next several matches, and if things continue the way they did today, there'll be a formal conversation about a national team trial before the season ends."

Mia's heart did something complicated and enormous in her chest. "That's... thank you. Genuinely. That means everything."

"Don't thank me yet. Nothing's decided." Ade said, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely neutral about it either. "But I wanted you to hear it directly from me, not filtered through a coach or an agent. You've earned the attention. Keep earning it."

He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back with an expression that shifted just slightly less scout, more person, someone about to ask something he wasn't technically required to ask.

"One more thing." Williams said. "There's some noise online. Photos, forum chatter, something about you and your coach. I don't put much stock in gossip, but I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't mention it's the kind of thing that can complicate a young player's profile if it isn't handled carefully."

Mia's stomach, which had spent the last two minutes soaring somewhere near the stadium lights, plummeted straight back to earth.

"It's nothing." Mia said, too fast, the same reflexive denial she'd been giving everyone all week. "Just people reading into normal coaching stuff."

"I'm sure." said, in a tone that suggested he neither fully believed nor fully disbelieved her, which was somehow worse than either option. "Just be smart. That's all. Talent gets you noticed. Judgment is what keeps you in the room once you are."

He walked off toward the exit before Mia could respond, leaving her standing alone in the tunnel with a compliment and a warning tangled together so tightly she couldn't separate where one ended and the other began.

She found Daniel twenty minutes later, showered, changed, still lingering near the equipment room reviewing something on a tablet. He looked up the moment she walked in, and whatever he saw on her face made him set the tablet down immediately.

"What happened?" He asked.

"He offered me a trial." Mia said. "National team. Formal conversation before the season ends, if I keep playing like today."

"Mia, that's…." Daniel started, something bright and unguarded breaking across his face before she cut him off.

"He also mentioned the forum posts." Mia said, quieter now. "He said talent gets you noticed. Judgment keeps you in the room."

Daniel's face shifted instantly, the brightness dimming into something more careful. "He said that directly?"

"More or less." Mia said. "He wasn't cruel about it. He was just... honest. Which somehow made it worse."

"He's not wrong to flag it." Daniel said, and Mia hated how much that admission cost him to make.

"A scandal this early in your career could follow you a long time, regardless of whether it's true or fair. That's just how these things work."

"I know." Mia said. "I've known that since the first photo showed up. Doesn't make hearing it from a stranger with a clipboard feel any better."

"And the press just now?" Daniel asked, watching her carefully. "I saw them corner you on my way in. It looked rough."

"They asked about you directly." Mia said. "First time anyone's said it to my face on the record instead of hiding behind an anonymous account."

"What did you say?"

"I deflected. I talked about the scouting report, credited the team, and walked away before the follow-up could land." Mia said. "Elena's training actually worked, for what it's worth. Small miracles."

"Good." Daniel said, something like relief passing across his face. "That's exactly right. Don't give them anything to work with."

They stood there a moment in the quiet of the equipment room, both of them turning the same impossible math over in their heads the exact same math they'd been turning over for a week now, no closer to a solution than they'd been at the start.

"For what it's worth." Daniel said finally, voice low. "You earned that trial today. All of it. Nobody can take that away from you, whatever happens with the rest of this."

"You keep saying things like that." Mia said, something in her chest loosening despite everything. "Things you're really not supposed to say."

"I'm aware." Daniel said, and there was the faintest, reluctant curve at the corner of his mouth. "I'm working on it."

Mia laughed, tired and real, and for a second the equipment room felt like the safest place in the entire stadium, just the two of them, everything else outside the door for a moment longer.

Her phone buzzed in her bag before either of them could say anything else. She almost ignored it. Almost.

She checked it anyway, old habits refusing to break even now, and felt every ounce of warmth drain straight out of the room.

It wasn't the burner account. It was Elena Vance, and the message was three words long.

*My office. Now.*

Mia stared at the screen, the good news from twenty minutes ago, the trial, the compliment, Daniel's rare unguarded pride already curdling into something colder and more urgent.

"That doesn't sound like a media training follow-up." Daniel said, reading over her shoulder before she could stop him.

"No." Mia agreed, throat suddenly tight. "It really doesn't."

"Do you want me to come?" Daniel asked, and there was something fierce underneath the question, something that suggested he'd walk into that office regardless of her answer if he thought it would help.

"No." Mia said, though the offer alone steadied her more than she expected. "If this is about us, showing up together is the worst possible thing we could do right now."

Daniel's jaw tightened, but he nodded, stepping back to let her go. "Text me the second you're out."

"I will." Mia said, already moving toward the door, heart hammering harder now than it had at any point during the entire match, harder, even, than the walk to meet the scout.