Reunion - Mapi Leon x Reader

Chapter 17 - Whose Lottie?

I didn't have much time to think about anything other than the upcoming match and training well, my place on the starting line up on thin ice since my trip to Barcelona. I'd had it cleared with the manager but the fact that I was over there, drinking and enjoying myself and not training made him wonder whether I was still up to scratch. If the amount of extra training I've been having is any idea, I just think he's pissed that I left - blaming me for the loss of the last game just because I wasn't there.

It doesn't help that my low-attention brain is struggling to remember that my name is Peyton while I'm in America, not Lottie. And I seem to expect that whenever someone says my name it should be said with that beautiful Spanish Accent and it comes as a shock when the stupid American accent rings through my head instead.

Which is maybe why I find consolement on my nightly calls with Mapi - the time difference is a killer but she still finds the time to call me. Whether it's 11pm for me and 7am for her, she allows sounds ready and awake for whatever conversation comes to mind first. Her voice makes me feel all fuzzy and warm, a brightness entering my body a contrast to a darkness that surrounds San Diego. Mapi makes things bearable.

The next call I get from Mapi is at midnight. Midnight for her - not me as the familiar ringtone blasts through my speakers while in the locker room for the wave.

"Oi! Pey, ya phones ringing." Emily calls out, head turning to face me as I rub a towel through my wet hair.

"Who's calling?" I ask and make my way over. I frown as she furrows her brows.

"D'you have a girlfriend?" And a smirk tugs at her lips.

"You have a girlfriend?" Another of the girls, Kailen, shouts out from nearby. And by now, the entire room is in chaos.

"Answer it!" One of them yells, and suddenly she's holding it way above my head, putting it onto the speaker and pressing accept.

"Lottie on a scale of 1-10 how hot is it normally in San Diego?" The voice asks, clearly the Spanish accent I had been longing to hear all day.

Growling, I jump to try and reach the height of my phone. "Emily Van Egmond! Give me back my ph-"      "hush, Pey." And she presses a finger to my lips.

"I'm sorry I think you have the wrong number." The aussie starts, grinning as I helplessly grip onto the bicep of the arm using to hold it above my head. "I'm not sure I know a Lottie."

"Lottie? Why the fuck do you have Lottie's phone?" Mapi spits, the anger practically gripping through the speakers.

Emily gives me a weird look as the same name is repeated twice. "Woah there sweetheart. I don't know a Lottie." She tries to explain, but my futile attempts at getting back my phone gives her a clear idea that I am Lottie.. she just doesn't know to what extent.

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I figure she's hung up until her voice lights up the now silent locker room. Mapi sighs deeply. "Where's Peyton? Peyton Moore?" I can practically hear her rub her brow.

"I'm fucking here! Van Egmond you twat! Give me my phone." And I hear a couple sniggers from behind me. I can see the reluctance in her eyes as she passes me back the silver screen. Glaring, I pick up my bag and march out the room, ignoring the calls from a couple of teammates at my lack of explanation. "Mapi, baby, are you still there?" I ask, trying to hide the hiss of anger in my voice - anger definitely not directed at her.

"I am so sorry, Lottie. I didn't know you were at trai-"

I cut her off. "Maps, it's fine love. I told you, my seasons ending here soon anyway. I had to at least tell them before I left." And she breathes a sigh of relief. "What was the first question you asked about, love?"

"Weather. Hot. Is it hot in San Diego?"

"Boiling." I breathe, hit now with the hot burning sun as I get out of the air conditioning of the facility. I swear I hear her hiss a 'tell me about it but I ignore her. "Now what did I tell you about staying up too late? Don't you have training in the morning?" I question, not expecting her to cough.

"A game, actually. But I'm not playing." She says, as if that explains everything.

Frowning, my curiosity gets the better of me and I continue to interrogate her. "Why not?"

"Mmm. I'm out. I'm watching a game, instead."

"Oh yeah? Since when have you prioritised seeing someone else's game to playing on your own."

She groans. "No more questions. Are you heading home, Lottie?"

"Yeah. It shouldn't take me too long to get home to the air con. But until then I might be a little grumpy." I laugh, and I can hear her do the same on the other end.

"Okay. Sleep well tonight, princess. Big game tomorrow." Mapi sounds so sincere, and I can't help but let my heart swell at the moment.

"Love you, Mapi." I sigh.
"Love you more."
And I hear the beep, signalling the end of the call just as I pull up on my drive. I'm mildly aware of the insane amount of buzzing vibrating my phone, choosing to ignore all of them until I've gotten comfier - and cooler than I am at the moment.

Only then did I switch on my phone, deleting a couple of promotional emails and ignoring a lecturing message from my sister. However, the next one catches my full attention and my blood rushes to my head.
What the fuck, Peyton. You call me a cheat, you hypocrite.
I can't think of how to reply and so instead my fingers hover aimlessly over the keyboard. I want to call Mapi, but I bite my lip and type out a response.
Me? A cheat? Where'd you get that idea?
Is it really cheating, if you fully intend to break up with him?
Cause hiding away in 'your house' isn't a way of telling me you've been hooking up with people from bars?
I try to swallow my pride, but the anger that flares insides takes over and without even thinking about it.
Person* just one, Luc. And I swear she's better company than you ever have been.
And now it's the end.
Now I'm free.

Free to concentrate on football, myself, my image, my future girlfriend. I throw my phone onto the pillow next to me, ignoring the angry buzzing and simply grin to myself. Game day tomorrow, then a weekend to myself.

Which is what I keep telling myself as I drive my way to our pitch the next morning, my head swimming with excitement. Maybe I could fly over to Barcelona, meet Mapi and spend the days off with her.

No. Focus. Game first. Gotta get the win or I'll be expected to do training even in the break.

(There you go my lovelies!! Pleaseee leave a comment and tell us how we do! Love ya<3)