Home & Away (Mr Positive and QuirkyQuill)

[MrPositive]

Prologue
In the rugged hills of West Cork, football wasn't just a game; it was a way of life. On cold winter evenings, as the coastal winds battered the small town of Clonakilty, the locals would huddle together on the sidelines of Atlantic Park, braving the elements to cheer for their boys in red and green. Among them was a wiry teenager named Donal McLoughlin, a name whispered with equal parts awe and disbelief. He wasn't just good - he was something else entirely.

At sixteen, Donal's name was already on the lips of scouts from Dublin to London. He had an uncanny ability to read the game, finding pockets of space where none existed. His right foot struck with precision, and his left could conjure magic. His debut for Clonakilty FC (now defunct and reborn under West Cork Celtic) in the old First Division was the stuff of local legend: a hat-trick in a storm, the ball cutting through the wind and rain as if drawn to his boots by fate.

Clonakilty FC wasn't a big club - just a scrappy, community-driven side trying to hold its own in Irish football. But Donal made them believe. By seventeen, he had led the team to their best league finish in decades. Crowds doubled as locals flocked to see their prodigy, and soon, the offers came pouring in. Scouts called his house; letters arrived promising glory. But it was a call from Newcastle United that changed everything.

At eighteen, Donal left the windswept fields of Clonakilty for the towering stadiums of England. His transfer to Newcastle United was met with skepticism by some - another Irish kid destined to be swallowed up by the bright lights of the Premier League, they said. But Donal proved them all wrong. In his first season, he became the youngest player to score ten league goals for the club, his fearless approach winning over the famously demanding Geordie faithful. The following year, he secured a place in the starting lineup, his pace, strength, and clinical finishing making him one of the league's most promising strikers.

From Newcastle, his career skyrocketed. A big-money move to Arsenal followed, where Donal truly hit his stride. Under the lights of the Emirates Stadium, he became a legend. Over seven seasons, he won three Premier League titles, two FA Cups, and the ultimate prize: the UEFA Champions League. In the final against Bayern Munich, it was his late goal, a diving header, that secured victory, immortalizing him in club folklore.

But the journey wasn't without setbacks. Injuries plagued his later years at Asrenal, and at 31, he moved to Birmingham City in search of more playing time. Though the silverware eluded him there, he became a leader, captaining the side and mentoring younger players.

Even as he aged, Donal's reputation endured. His final stint in England was with Southampton, where his experience proved invaluable in keeping the club in the top flight. At 35, he called time on his English career, leaving behind a record of 182 Premier League goals, countless assists, and a reputation as one of the most consistent strikers of his era.

For Ireland, Donal was more than just a player, he was a symbol of hope. From the moment he made his debut at 19, he became a talisman for the national team. Over 15 years, he earned 142 caps and scored 58 goals, both records. Donal led Ireland to the knockout stages of the 2016 European Championship, scoring a crucial goal against Italy in the group stage. His defining moment came during the 2022 World Cup qualifiers, where his hat-trick against Denmark sent Ireland to their first World Cup in 20 years. Though Ireland didn't progress far, Donal's performances inspired a nation. He retired from international football in 2022, his legacy cemented as one of the greatest players ever to wear the green jersey.

The Return
At 36, Donal McLoughlin stood on the threshold of a new chapter. The journey that had taken him from Clonakilty to the greatest stadiums in the world had brought him full circle. West Cork Celtic had been reborn in the new National League, and Donal couldn't resist the pull of home.

It wasn't just about football anymore. The bright lights of the Premier League had been thrilling, but they were fleeting. Donal wanted something more lasting - a connection, a legacy. He wanted to stand on the same soil where his journey began and give back to the community that had nurtured him.

Present Day
The second season of Donal McLoughlin's return to West Cork Celtic had been nothing short of remarkable. At 38, he wasn't the explosive force he had been during his prime in England, but he had adapted, relying on his experience, positioning, and unwavering determination. With ten games left in the National League, Celtic stood on the cusp of promotion to the Premier League - a feat that would rewrite the club's history books.

As captain and lone striker, Donal had carried the team on his shoulders. His 16 goals for the season had been critical, and his leadership even more so. He'd become the glue that held the team together, mentoring younger players while driving home the idea that they were capable of greatness. The fans adored him, chanting his name from the terraces of Atlantic Park every weekend. For them, Donal wasn't just a player - he was the embodiment of hope, ambition, and pride in West Cork.

But off the pitch, life had taken on a quieter rhythm. Donal had settled into a small house just outside Clonakilty, a place where he could hear the distant crash of the Atlantic and feel the wind sweeping in from the hills. His focus was singular: football. At least, that's what he told himself.
​

---

The community event at the Clonakilty Sports Centre wasn't something Donal had planned on attending. He rarely sought the spotlight outside of football. But Brendan O'Sullivan, the club's manager, had been insistent. "The whole town's turning out," Brendan had said. "It's important for the club to be there - especially you."

And so, Donal found himself standing at a booth, surrounded by fans of all ages. Kids darted around with footballs, their faces painted in Celtic's red and green, while parents snapped pictures and thanked him for what he'd done for the team. He signed jerseys, answered questions about the upcoming matches, and posed for photos, all the while wearing the easy, practiced smile of someone used to public adoration.

The event wasn't just about the men's team, though. It was a celebration of all things football in Clonakilty, and the women's side of West Cork Celtic was front and center. The women's team had been making waves of their own, competing at the top of their league and drawing attention for their spirited play.

Donal didn't know much about the women's squad. He'd seen a few highlights, heard Brendan mention their performances in passing, but his focus had always been on his own game. Still, as the event unfolded, he couldn't help but notice the buzz around their table - a steady stream of fans, young girls with stars in their eyes, and parents eager to meet the players.

It was then, during a quiet moment, that Donal first saw her. She stood just beyond the crowd, casually leaning against a table draped in the club's colors, her arms crossed as she watched the scene unfold. There was an air of quiet confidence about her, a calm amidst the noise.

Someone nearby whispered her name: Sophia Grayson.

Donal recognized it immediately - she was the women's team's goalkeeper, the American import who'd been earning rave reviews all season. He'd heard Brendan call her the best shot-stopper in the league, a player who could win matches single-handedly. But it wasn't just her reputation that caught his attention now. There was something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

For a moment, their eyes met across the bustling room. Donal felt a flicker of something - curiosity, perhaps? It wasn't attraction, at least not yet. His mind was too wrapped up in the season, too focused on the task at hand to entertain such thoughts. But there was a spark, a faint sense that this meeting, brief and silent as it was, might mean something later.

And just like that, the moment passed. A group of fans pulled Donal back into their orbit, and Sophia turned her attention elsewhere.

By the end of the day, Donal barely remembered the exchange. His thoughts were already on the next match, the next challenge. But in the quiet corners of his mind, a seed had been planted—one that would take time to grow.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Prologue

Summer

“Ireland? Really?” Her brother’s voice sounded dubious over the call, his eyebrows raising up. “Soph, aren’t you…well, better than the Irish league? I don’t mean that negatively, I just think… you could play for a Premier League if you are really set on going to Europe. Something more elite.”

“Jack, stop,” Sophia Grayson shook her head as she sat down on the edge of her bed, holding the phone up so she could ensure her brother received the full brunt of her glare. “The team is good, and the women’s team is in their Premier League. They just need a little help staying there.”
“Right, I mean, I know it's a Premier League, but it’s not the Premier League.”

“It’s not Premier enough for you because it’s not British?” Rolling her eyes, Sophia tried to look annoyed with her little brother, but the look of endearment betrayed her. She had never been able to stay mad at him. The problem was that he knew it. “Look, it’s not just about being in the spotlight. The spotlight is exactly why I’m going in the first place. The league is new, and they are working really hard on creating equitability across the sport. The idea of being part of that is exciting and meaningful.”

“So, you’re leaving the States because you’ve had too much attention from your advocacy to go to another country and…advocate?” Jack spoke slowly as if trying to point out the obvious problem as he saw it.

“I’m leaving the States for different reasons. Yes, it’s been a nightmare here the last couple years. There are still days I show up to practice and there are reporters who want to talk about Callum. They are usually men, they’re usually aggressive, and they’re usually still trying to discredit me. I just want to play soccer, Jack. I’m nearing the end of my career, and I don’t want it to feel like this every time I step on that field.” Reaching up, she ran an exasperated hand through her hair, her fingers snagging on a few tangles as she did so. Her face softened when she looked back at her phone, a small smile crossing her face. “I talked with the head coach of the team, the goalkeeper coach, Nora, and a representative from the association. They really want to get this right, and I’ve lived it. I can do some good there to make sure that their women hopefully never have to go through what we did.”

“You know,” Jack said with a dramatic sigh, “it’s really hard being your brother. You are so perfect at everything you do, I can’t possibly measure up.” He was teasing her, and Sophia knew it, but it lacked its usual tint of sarcasm.

“Hey, little bro, I get it. You’re going to miss me. You’ll be lost without me.” Grinning, her face took on a playful smirk as she watched the indignant look cross his face. He’d been making that face at her since he was four years old. Ten year old her had loved it, the way his little nose would scrunch up and his eyebrows would crinkle together. “You can come visit. We’ll go hiking around. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sulked. “I might miss you.”

“All right. My plane leaves late tonight so I need to double check I have everything ready to go.”

“Why do I have a feeling you have already checked everything ten times?”

“Only eight. That’s a long time to be away.” Laughing, she stuck her tongue at him. It didn’t matter that she was six years older than him and that she was thirty-five years old. The two of them still reverted to behaving like children, especially when they were having an emotional moment.

“All right, sis. I love you.” He sounded resigned, but Sophia could see the pride in his dark brown eyes. The same dark eyes she had also inherited from their father, his Spanish heritage carrying through his children.

“Love you, too!”

Once she hung up, Sophia flopped back on her bed, the snake of uncertainty winding its way through her stomach. Was this a good idea? She would never admit it out loud, but she knew she was running. The last two years had been a circus in the league, and when she and two of her teammates had decided to speak out against the harassment players were subjected to, things had turned ugly quickly. They had all just finished fighting for equality in pay, and Sophia hadn’t felt ready for another large-scale fight. Of course, she hadn’t expected things to turn into the media circus it had.

Earlier in the year, the investigative report had come out, citing all the evidence of sexual harassment, verbal abuse, and toxic culture that had run rampant inside the women’s soccer locker rooms. What Sophia had learned was that if one were bringing to light negative behavior against a good looking, internationally adored, and universally desired athlete, people responded differently. The world was not ready to believe that Callum Barclay, former Scottish football player who had dominated, was a terrible man. In his mid forties, he still had the looks that landed him on young women’s walls.

Sitting up, she shook her head. This was the right decision. It had all been the right decision, but the smear campaign that Barclay had launched against her and her two teammates still lingered, despite the evidence that pointed elsewhere. While Sophia was glad to see sweeping overhauls in the National Women’s Soccer League to protect its athletes, she was still dealing with the fallout. Several coaches had received lifetime bans from coaching in the United States. Callum wasn’t one of them. He’d received a five year ban, and people blamed her.

Sophia had years of perfecting the stone faced expression she wore in games, and that icy stare had been her armor during the last two years off the field as much as on. The goalkeeper had to be tough. She’d developed her reputation as “The Arctic Wall” because she knew how to defend her box, and she did it mercilessly. When she was on the field in her kit, gloves on, she was all business. Her teammates would celebrate goals and saves, but Sophia kept her head in the game and on the moment. Three World Cup appearances, two taking home the trophy and one second place, and two stints at the Olympics had taught her how to focus and shut out the white noise around her.

Lately, it had been too much. People didn’t want to talk about soccer with her anymore. They wanted to talk about the scandal, and she needed to get back to the game she loved. If she heard one more reporter call her the Ice Queen, she was likely to forget all of her public relations training. Thankfully one of her former college teammates, Nora Kennedy, was a striker for West Cork Celtic, so Sophia knew she had at least one friend on the other side of the pond.

Present Day

As a born and raised Floridian, Sophia knew a thing or two about rain. After all, during the summer, it rained every day in her hometown of Clearwater between one and three in the afternoon. Having spent the last several years in Orlando as the goalkeeper for Orlando Pride, those daily showers hit the east coast of the state between two and four. None of that had prepared her for life in Ireland. It rained. A lot. In the months since she’d stepped off the plane in Dublin, taken a car down to Cork, and settled into her flat in Clonakilty, Sophia was certain she’d endured more rain than she had in the last decade.

She’d managed to settle in, though, tackling her role as Celtic’s goalkeeper as she did everything else. It had been a little bumpy with the team when she’d first arrived. Nora had been her biggest advocate to the team. Apparently, her reputation as being difficult to work with and a hard ass had extended to the Emerald Isle, and when she’d first entered the locker room, the narrowed eyes of many of her new teammates said as much. Sophia had played against a couple of them in international competition, but she didn’t know them well. As a longstanding member of the Women’s National Soccer League, it stood to reason that she would cross paths with other players she’d competed against.

It wasn’t uncommon for players to be opponents one season and teammates the next, but the level of unspoken hostility had been so thick it was tangible. Sophie understood, though. The point of the league was to try to build up local talent to represent the club, and the club had brought in an outsider. Not just any outsider, but the woman who’d been deemed a diva. The woman who made unrealistic demands of her clubs.

Thank the football gods for Nora, who had managed to break the ice fairly quickly. About a month in, her team had quickly realized that her reputation was mostly false. Her reputation on the field; however, was not. Their season had taken on a different life than the one before. Celtic had ended the previous season near the bottom of the Premier League, and the staff and team knew that changes had to be made to remain in the Premier League. While the men’s team was working towards promotion, the women were struggling to maintain their position and move up.

Sophia brought a different energy to the team. She commanded the defense with respectful authority, helping shift them and pointing out gaps. Her teammates quickly realized that she would be the first to volunteer to stay back and work with somebody, regardless of their position, if they were struggling with something. They had also realized that her “demands” weren’t what they’d been led to believe.

Not long after arriving, she’d also learned that she would also be expected to represent the team at events. At first, Sophia was anxious, thinking it would strictly be media events. She soon realized that the events were to help build connections between the club and the community. Those were the type of events Sophia loved. Talking with real people about a game they all loved.

That was precisely how she found herself packed in next to Nora and half of the team at a table, the excited chatter filling the space around them. Seeing so many little girls staring with admiration at her teammates almost made her choke up, if she was the sort of woman who allowed emotions to creep out in public. When she was a little girl dreaming of playing professionally, there weren't a lot of women represented. She didn’t have female athletes to look up to, just the men. Looking over to the side, she saw a little girl with dark curly and big green eyes staring shyly at the group of people. She looked to be around ten.

Smiling warmly, Sophia walked over to her and crouched down so that she was looking up at her.

“Hello,” she greeted softly.

“Hi.” The little girl responded just as softly, her Irish lilt barely audible from the short syllable.

“What’s your name?”

“Sophia.” She smiled shyly, her hands clasping in front of her mouth as if she were trying to hide.

“Sophia! That’s my name.” Responding enthusiastically, Sophia grinned at her. “Isn’t it the best name ever?”

Little Sophia nodded her head, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

“Is there someone you want to meet from the team?” Trying to engage her further, Sophia turned briefly to look at her other teammates before looking back at her.

“I wanted to meet you,” she responded, the words struggling to leave her mouth.

“Well that makes me happy. I’m so glad I got to meet another Sophia. Do you play football?” Resting her arms on her knees, Sophia’s brown eyes raised slightly as a woman who had to be Little Sophia’s mother pulled a phone out of her purse.

Little Sophia nodded, but didn’t respond verbally.

“What position do you play?”

“Keeper.” The word came out, again quietly and as if it took effort for her to release it from her lips. Sophia gasped, bringing a hand to her heart.

“Sophia, I love it. I’ll tell you what,” she spoke, reaching behind her and pulling one of her goalkeeper gloves from the last game they’d won. She’d already signed it and had kept it stowed in her jean pocket. “I have been waiting for the perfect person to give this glove to, and I think meeting another Sophia who is a keeper makes you that perfect person. Would you like it?”

The girl nodded, extending her hand out and taking the glove reverently.

“I need you to do something for me, though. When you grow up and become a famous goalkeeper, I need one of your gloves signed too. Okay?” The girl's smile widened, lighting up her entire face. “I think your mom wants a picture. Want to take one with me?” Little Sophia nodded, and turned to face her mother while Sophia wrapped an arm around her and smiled. As they walked off, she stood straight, her knees groaning in protest. Leaning against the table, she crossed her arms over her chest, her expression resorting back to that pleasant professionalism she typically wore. Her brother had been generous in their youth to frequently tell her she had a resting bitch face, and while she’d wanted to be mad about it, he was right. Once she’d had to start promoting her teams and serving as a face of the sport, she had to make a concerted effort not to look that way when she was off the field.

Something prickled inside her that told her she was being watched. Turning her gaze, she locked eyes with an astute green stare. Her face remained neutral as she realized immediately who it was. Donal McLoughlin was a legendary player, even in the states, and while she had never seen him play live, Sophia had seen him in action on television a handful of times. She’d heard his name around the club, but she’d kept her head down during the past months trying to fit into her own team that she hadn’t expended a lot of energy on the men’s team. They both seemed frozen in that stare for a moment, and Sophia wondered what it would be like to defend the box against him. She knew he was good, but how good?

The moment passed just as quickly as it had happened, and Nora had quickly caught her attention.

“Hey, did you decide if you were going to the men’s game with us tomorrow? You haven’t come to a match yet.” Nora gave her a pouty look, knowing very well that it wouldn’t do anything any more than it had when they’d shared a room at Florida State.

“I don’t know. We have a game coming up.”

“Soph, we also have a game coming up. It’s okay to go out and live a little. It’s an afternoon game. It’s not even late.”

“Fine,” sighing as she spoke, she gave Nora a small smile, relenting. Nora pumped her first as if she’d just won a long-standing battle. Which, to be fair, she had. Sophia had always eschewed partying and going out late for early bedtimes and a regimented existence. It was part of the reason she’d been so successful.

“Finally! I can’t wait for you to see Atlantic Park full. It’s a different environment for the men’s team.”

"Of course it is," Sophia responded with a slightly sarcastic smile on her face.

 

[MrPositive]

The weather that day at Atlantic Park was typical for early spring in West Cork—windy, with a chill in the air, and the occasional spatter of rain that never quite materialized into anything heavy enough to stop the game. It didn't matter. The crowd, as always, was out in full force, wrapped in scarves and woolen hats, braving the elements to support their beloved West Cork Celtic. Among the buzzing fans, the name on everyone's lips was Donal McLoughlin, the captain, the veteran striker who had returned to his roots.

It was clear from the opening whistle that Donal was in one of his moods. He had that quiet confidence about him, his eyes scanning the field, assessing the situation, and it didn't take long for him to find his rhythm. The Mayo Warriors had no answer for his movement. As soon as the ball came to him, it seemed to find the back of the net, as though he were possessed by some kind of supernatural force that made the game look easy. By the 25th minute, Donal had scored his first goal of the match. It was a classic piece of McLoughlin brilliance—a perfectly timed run off a through ball, a delicate touch past the oncoming goalkeeper, and then a calm finish into the open net. The fans roared in approval, their chants echoing through the stands, but Donal was already back on his feet, focused, ready for the next opportunity.

"We need more than that," he muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the field, his hands brushing the damp grass as he adjusted his position. He wasn't one to celebrate much, especially in the early stages of a match. For Donal, it was all about the next moment, not the last one.

The game continued, and the Warriors struggled to keep up. They tried to defend him with physicality, but Donal was too smart, too quick. It didn't take long for him to find his second goal. A perfectly placed cross came in from the left wing, curling toward the edge of the penalty area. Donal's instincts kicked in. He darted to the near post, leaping higher than anyone expected, and with a thundering header, he powered the ball past the helpless goalkeeper. The crowd erupted again, but this time, Donal allowed himself a slight smile—a brief acknowledgment of the beauty of the moment.

"Two-nil," he thought, but that wasn't enough for him. It was never enough.

The Warriors were starting to show signs of frustration. Their defense had no answer for Donal's intelligence, and their midfield couldn't break Celtic's lines. The ball was constantly being played back to their keeper, forcing them into constant defense. Even when they managed to break forward, Donal was there, playing as if he had eyes in the back of his head. His experience was telling. By the 70th minute, the game was all but over. West Cork Celtic had a commanding lead, but Donal wasn't done yet. He had already scored twice, but he wasn't ready to settle for a brace. He wanted more. He was used to the pressure, used to the moments where the game came down to him, the responsibility of putting his team on his back.

It was in the final stretch that he scored his third goal, and it was the kind of goal that summed up everything that made Donal so special. A scramble in the box saw the ball deflected toward the edge of the penalty area. Without hesitation, Donal pounced on it. There was no room for error. A quick feint, a half-step to the right, and the ball was curling into the bottom corner of the net before anyone could even react. The stadium was alive, shaking with the sound of fans shouting his name.

"Hat-trick, Donal! Hat-trick!" The chant rang out from the stands, and Donal didn't need to look up to know the faces of the fans who had been with him through thick and thin.

He turned briefly to the crowd, his face impassive but his eyes scanning the supporters. There, amidst the cheering fans, he saw something that caught him off guard—someone he didn't expect to be there. Standing near the side of the pitch, a figure in a dark jacket and jeans, her arms crossed, watching him intently. It was her—the goalkeeper from the women's team, Sophia Grayson.

Donal's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't that he had ever known her, but the brief moment they had shared at the community event the previous day had stayed with him. He had seen her around, knew of her reputation as one of the best shot-stoppers in the league. But this—seeing her watching him in the stands—felt different.

He couldn't afford to get distracted. The game wasn't over, and his teammates were still pressing for more goals. Still, he couldn't help but steal a glance in her direction, wondering if she was there to see him, or just here for the match. His mind quickly refocused as the game continued, but a part of him remained drawn to her presence.

The final whistle blew, and the game ended with a decisive 4-0 scoreline. Celtic had dominated from start to finish, and Donal had been the star of the show. The crowd rushed to their feet, chanting his name in unison. The victory felt sweet, especially with the hat-trick, but Donal didn't bask in the spotlight for long. He knew there was work to be done. The season was far from over, and the challenge of securing promotion still loomed large.

As he walked off the pitch, his teammates congratulated him, but Donal's mind was elsewhere. His eyes were once again drawn to Sophia, who was now making her way toward the exit, her head held high, walking with the kind of purposeful stride that suggested she had already made up her mind about something. Was she leaving so soon? He couldn't be sure, but there was a lingering feeling in the back of his mind.

Later, as he sat in the locker room, catching his breath after the match, Donal couldn't shake the image of Sophia from his thoughts. There was something about her, something that intrigued him, but he couldn't quite place it. She was strong, determined, and had the kind of presence that was hard to ignore. But more than that, he felt as if he had seen a side of her—a quiet, composed side—that mirrored his own. A part of him wanted to learn more.

For now, he had to focus on the next match, on the team's goals, and on the bigger picture. But for the first time in a long while, Donal McLoughlin found himself wondering if the game he loved could also offer him something more. Something that went beyond football.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

“Why is your rain so cold?” Panting, Sophia stretched her arms above her head in an effort to take a deep breath. Raindrops dripped to her shoulders from the messy bun piled on top of her head. The pink hue on her cheeks and nose was a testament to both the cold air and the physical exertion from the run she and Nora had taken. Nora laughed, looking not the least bit bothered by the rain shower that had caught them two miles into their run.

“Seriously,” Sophia chuckled, shaking her head. “Why does weather like this exist?”

“You’ve been here long enough, Soph. You should be used to it by now.” Still grinning, Nora opened her passenger door and grabbed her water bottle, taking a quick swig.

Sophia did the same from her own car, grabbing a towel along with her water. The rain had eased up just before they had returned back to the cars. Swiping her face with the towel, she draped it around her shoulders as she drank from the cold water.

“I'm not sure one can acclimate to this.”

“You play games in it just fine,” Nora pointed out, physically pointing a finger in her direction.

“I don't feel it during the games.” Shrugging, she ran a hand on top of her head, smoothing the flyaways back down. “This is different. But, this trail is worth it. It might be my favorite you’ve shown me so far.”

The third week she’d been in Ireland, Nora had insisted on showing her the Rathberry-Kilkeran Loop for a trail run location. Sophia had always preferred to run on a trail to pavement. She liked the stamina it built up, and she could feel the difference when she was on the field. The loop had taken her breath away. The two women had hiked it first, and this was their third time running it. It was times like these that Sophia couldn't believe how fortunate she was that her career had given her an opportunity to explore so many beautiful places.

“I knew you would like it.” Both women began the quick task of switching their shoes. Sophia put her wet, grassy tennis shoes in a bag, slipping off her socks and sliding on a pair of flip flops.

“What time are we meeting at the gate?” Twirling her keys around her fingers she walked around to the driver side.

“How about an hour before kickoff? I also want you to meet Kieran after the game.” A small flush appeared on Nora's face at the mention of the men's midfielder. He had asked Nora out on a date during the previous month, and things had been progressing between the two.

“Can't wait! See you then.” Waving at her former roommate, she hopped in her car and immediately turned on the heater.

A couple hours later, she stood in the stands with Nora and several of their teammates. Sophia had always appreciated the environment of European football stadiums. They carried a very different level of electricity than in the states, and as supportive as the women's fans were, the stadium reached a volume level that was incomparable.

Sophia’s eyes were transfixed on the game as it played out in front of them. She hadn't realized how intently she'd been watching until closer to the end when Nora nudged her. Hard.

“Hey. Grayson. Just watch and enjoy the game.” Rolling her eyes, Nora wore a smirk on her pale face.

“I…am?” Confusion burrowed between her eyebrows as Sophia looked truly perplexed.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “you're not. You've spent this whole time analyzing the game. Turn that part of your brain off, and just enjoy the game. Sing. Chant. Clap. Do… something other than create permanent wrinkles between your eyebrows.” That last part made Sophia laugh. She realized Nora was right. Her eyes had tracked the ball around the field, her mind studying everyone who touched the ball. Given the nature of the game, she found herself watching McLoughlin through much of the match. She tried to read his body language when he approached the goal, and could tell before the opposing keeper that his instincts had sent him defending in the wrong direction. Donal’s quickness and certainty had never really been captured on television the way it felt in person and she could appreciate the speed and strength in which he delivered the ball more acutely. It made her fingers twitch, wishing she were the one inside the box.

“Soph!” Nora’s voice pulled her back out of the recesses of her thoughts. “I need you to tap into eight year old Sophia Grayson, standing in front of the television set, jumping up and down while her favorite team played. Or the little girl doing the Chop after her Noles scored.“

“Fine. Yes, ma’am,” Sophia laughed, her Southern twang bringing out a ‘y’ sound in the middle of ma’am. Despite feeling out of her typical element, Sophia joined in the chanting with her teammates, trying her hardest not to feel foolish. She had nothing against it. In fact, she loved to hear a fan base’s enthusiasm. It just wasn't something that came naturally to her. Nora was right , though. There was a time she did have that lightness watching their sports.

When the game ended, Nora grabbed her arm.

“They have to get promoted,” she said, her voice practically squeaking. “This is their season.”

“They certainly look to be on track,” Sophia responded.

“I could watch Donal McLoughlin handle a ball any day of the week.” Fiona Taggart, their left forward, piped up as the group of women began to climb the stairs.

“Aye,” Isla Blair, their backup goalkeeper who had joined them from Scotland during the transfer window, added. “I bet he handles a woman with just as much power.”

“Isla!” Nora exclaimed, her voice hitting an impeccably high octave.

“What? I'm just saying. You know those thigh muscles are capable of -”

“Oooookay,” Sophia interjected, her eyes carrying the incredulity that Nora’s voice had conveyed. “That's like talking about a coworker.”

“Those shorts don't hide much. It's clear he's -”

“Isla!” The other five members of the team practically screeched her name, causing the red head to cackle. At this point she was toying with them.

They walked down to the staff entrance and each pulled out their team badges. After being allowed through, they went to wait in a lounge area, waving to a couple of club staff members who were doing the same. Nora texted Kieran when they'd arrived, but they all knew they would be waiting for a bit while the coaches had their post-game debrief and the players went through their cool down routines.

Half of the women lounged on several of the couches, enjoying the warm dry air. Isla and Sophia grabbed a soccer ball that had been abandoned in the corner and started tipping it to one another with their fingers, looking more like two volleyball players warming up.

Eventually the sound of men’s voices rumbled through the hallway and a few of the players came in, Kieran the first to cross through the door. Isla had just hit the ball back to Sophia when Finn Kelly, the men's primary goalkeeper, jumped in front of her and intercepted the ball.

“Ha!” Exclaiming triumphantly, he turned around, a wide smile on his face. Standing a full eight inches taller than her, he had to look down to meet her eyes. “Sophia Grayson.”

“Finn Kelly,” she said his name with as much enthusiasm as he said hers. Though she hadn't met all of the players on the men's team, the goalkeepers from both teams had a standing lunch meeting once a week.

“Did you come to scope out the master of the box? Trying to pick up some of my moves?” Finn tossed the ball back and forth between his hands as he spoke.

“Oh, absolutely,” Sophia's playful sarcasm came out when she spoke, her left eyebrow raising. “I have now been fully educated on how to stand around and take up space for ninety minutes. Please, share more of your amazing techniques with me. I'm pretty sure I saw you twirl at one point.”

“Hey, I can't help it if McLoughlin didn't let anyone else touch the ball.” Pretending to look affronted, he offered her a wink before turning to chat with Isla, who had joined them. Shaking her head in amusement, Sophia walked over to where Nora stood with Kieran. They were quickly introduced to one another before Nora threw out the idea of everyone grabbing dinner together.

“Yeah,” Kieran nodded, “I’ll throw it out to some of the other guys and see who wants to go. Daily Dose? I need all the carbs I can get.”

“Sounds good,” Nora watched Kieran walk out of the room to rally some more players before turning back to Sophia. “You're coming, right? I promise you won't combust if you stay out past six.”

“Why not?” Rolling her eyes, Sophia gave in without a fight.

“Yes! Let's head over to get a table.”

 

[MrPositive]

Donal leaned back against his locker, exhaling deeply. His body ached in that familiar, satisfying way that came after a hard-fought match. The three goals he had put past Mayo Warriors' keeper should have been enough to leave him feeling elated, but instead, his thoughts were unsettled. He'd caught sight of her again—Sophia Grayson.

The American goalkeeper had been at the match, standing in the stands with her teammates. He'd seen her out of the corner of his eye after his second goal, and while he hadn't let it distract him during the game, the memory of her intent gaze lingered now.

"McLoughlin!" Kieran's voice broke through Donal's thoughts. The midfielder strode into the locker room, a grin on his face. "A few of us are heading over to Daily Dose for dinner. You should come. It'll be good to relax for a bit after the match."

Donal hesitated. He wasn't one for large social gatherings, especially after games. The pub would no doubt be loud and bustling with fans still buzzing from the win. But then he thought of Sophia. If the women's team had come to support their male counterparts, there was a good chance some of them would be at the restaurant as well.

"Alright," he said finally, grabbing his jacket from the hook. "I'll come for a bit."

Kieran raised a brow, clearly surprised. "Didn't think you'd say yes. Figured you'd be off to brood somewhere or study match footage."

Donal smirked. "I can't let you have all the fun, can I?"

The two made their way out of the stadium and into the chilly West Cork evening, joining a small group of teammates headed for the restaurant. By the time they arrived, the Daily Dose was already lively. The familiar hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air as Donal stepped inside.

"Over there!" Kieran called out, spotting Nora and her group at a large table near the back. The women's team had already staked their claim, and from the look of things, they were in high spirits. Donal followed Kieran's lead, weaving through the crowd until they reached the table.

Nora greeted them warmly, introducing Kieran to the rest of her teammates. Donal offered a polite nod to the group, his eyes scanning the table until they landed on Sophia. She was seated toward the end, her dark hair now down and framing her face. She looked different out of her kit and away from the pitch—more relaxed, though no less striking.

Kieran gestured toward an empty seat across from her. "Take a load off, Captain," he said with a grin before pulling up a chair beside Nora.

Donal slid into the seat, trying not to let his presence seem too deliberate. "Evening," he said, his voice low and even, addressing the group as a whole.

A chorus of greetings followed, but it was Sophia's quiet nod that held his attention. She didn't say much, which he appreciated. Small talk had never been his strength, and he found himself grateful for the comfortable silence she seemed to carry with her.

As the evening wore on, Donal found himself drawn into the conversation around the table. Kieran and Nora's easy banter kept everyone entertained, and even Isla's playful jabs added to the lighthearted atmosphere. Donal contributed when necessary, but he mostly observed, his gaze occasionally drifting back to Sophia.

At one point, the conversation turned toward the game. Fiona, the women's left forward, leaned forward with an eager grin. "Donal, you've got to tell us—what goes through your head when you're lining up a shot like that second goal tonight? That header was pure class."

Donal shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not much, to be honest. It's instinct. You see the ball coming in, you know where you want it to go, and you trust your body to do the rest."

"Instinct," Isla repeated with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "I'd like to see your 'instinct' take on Grayson here. She'd probably shut you down faster than you could blink."

The group erupted in laughter, and Donal allowed himself a chuckle. His eyes flicked to Sophia, who met his gaze with an unreadable expression. For a moment, he considered responding, but the weight of her steady gaze stopped him. He wasn't sure what he would have said, anyway.

As the plates were cleared and the evening began to wind down, Donal finally worked up the courage to speak directly to Sophia. He leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but firm. "You were at the game tonight."

It wasn't a question, and Sophia's brow lifted slightly in response.

Donal continued, his tone thoughtful. "You've got a keen eye. I could tell you were studying the match."

Her lips curved into a small smile, but she didn't reply, and Donal felt a flicker of frustration at his inability to draw her into conversation. He wasn't used to feeling unsure of himself, especially not off the pitch.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

“Kings had us 1-nil back in October. I know we’ve gotten better since then, but they're still at the top of the leaderboard,” Fiona twisted a napkin around her fingers as the women all looked at her when she spoke. They had fallen into conversation about their game the next afternoon against the Kilkenny Kings. The Kings had started the season as the number one team, and had yet to fall below that number. West Cork had started the season in the second to last spot, a testament to the previous season. They had since managed to climb to the middle of the pack, but that wasn’t good enough for any of the remaining women on the team.

“Given they have three women from the National team, I’d say it wasn't a bad loss,” Maura O’Brien, one of their other defenders, piped in.

“Any loss is a bad loss,” Sophia spoke up, her voice calm and steady where the other two had been peppy.

“Some losses feel worse, though,” Nora pointed out as she leaned back on her chair.

“We can win,” Sophia's brown eyes met Nora's. “We hadn't found our stride yet as a team when we played them.”

“How did they outplay you all last time?” Isla threw the question out, her eyes looking between the other women. Sophia’s jaw tightened slightly as Nora and Fiona winced.

“Let's just say,” Maura spoke slowly, her tone a bit timid, “that one of the defenders who was dismissed during the January window contributed to their one goal.”

“That's a generous way of putting it,” Nora grumbled before taking a sip of her water, a disgruntled look on her face.

“How did she do that? Did she accidentally send the ball into our goal?”

“No,” Maura answered, looking tentatively at Sophia. “That would have been forgivable. She didn't listen to our goalkeeper when she told her to move. She ended up blocking Sophia so when Sophia tried to make a dive for the shot, they collided instead.”

“Oh,” Isla looked scandalized at the thought. Defense not listening to their goalkeeper was as serious a crime as an American football offense not listening to their quarterback. When a keeper told a player to move, they hauled ass without a second thought.

“As I said,” Sophia lifted her glass in mock salute to Maura and Nora, “we have found our stride. I have full confidence that tomorrow's game is ours.”

“The Defensive Divas are going to rock their world,” Nora grinned as she raised her own glass. Maura laughed as she did the same. Sophia winced slightly at the nomenclature. She hated the word diva. It had been thrown in her face verbally and in writing so many times it made her stomach physically clench. She knew Nora used it intentionally and without any maliciousness, so she swallowed her grimace.

“You have to take ownership over that word. If you own it, it loses its power!”

If only it were that easy.

“Oh! They’re here.” Fiona’s eyes lit up as she scanned the group of players that had entered the restaurant. “Ooh…yes. He came.” A maniacal giggle escaped the young woman, and nobody found it necessary to ask to whom she was referring.

Sophia committed the names of the players she didn’t already know, glad to put a face with a name. They heard about the men’s team frequently, but it had been so hectic settling into a new country and new routine that Sophia hadn’t attended a game until today. She’d seen a lot of them around the training facilities, but she had a tendency to stick to herself if she wasn’t with a teammate. Over the past two years, she’d tried her best to make herself invisible whenever she could. As everyone grabbed a seat, she gave Finn a small half smile as he sat diagonally from her.

The conversation quickly shifted, and Sophia sat back, happy to allow other people to take center stage. Every so often she noticed a fan looking over their shoulder at the table, and she was pretty certain a couple of them had tried to subtly take photos from their cell phones.

She quietly studied Donal when his eyes were focused down the table, the weight of who she was sharing a table with not lost on her. Sophia had met some of the greatest players of all time, and she had never been one to fangirl. This wasn’t fangirling, exactly. She respected greatness in the sport, and she had to actively bite her tongue not to start picking his brain apart. When she’d met Mia Hamm with her high school travel team, her teammates had all shrieked and giggled, asking for autographs and pictures. Sophia had stared intently and asked her to share everything she could about learning how to read body language more effectively from the opposing team’s forwards so she could more effectively defend against them. It wasn’t until after the fact that her coach gently let her know she had come across a bit strong. In the years since, Sophia had learned to bite down her natural inclination to treat all great football players as walking encyclopedias.

"I'd like to see your 'instinct' take on Grayson here. She'd probably shut you down faster than you could blink."

Hearing her last name unexpectedly, Sophia’s gaze broke Donal and flashed to Nora briefly before meeting the man across from her again. She kept her face neutral, not entirely sure how she felt about Nora’s claim. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Sophia had learned humility in her early college career, and never took anything for granted when she stepped on the field. Her finger twitched at the thought of getting into the box against him, though. Either they would be evenly matched, or he would likely kick her ass. Whenever she found someone who looked like they could outright punish her on the field, Sophia craved the opportunity to find out. It was how she’d gotten better so early in life as a goalkeeper. She found the players who constantly scored on her, and then practiced with them until they couldn’t get a shot past her.

As his eyes met hers, she studied him, trying to read his expression. Did he presume he could, in fact, outplay her? Her experience had taught her that most men always assumed they were superior to their female counterparts in a sport. She didn’t know enough about his temperament or character as a player. Neither of them responded, and Sophia almost felt for a moment like they were sizing each other up.

“Well, it only seems fair that we go cheer you ladies on at your game tomorrow,” Finn interrupted the silence, and Sophia’s gaze flickered down to him for a moment. The group fell back into a comfortable buzz of conversation as their food was delivered. After sitting in the cold air all afternoon, Sophia was grateful for the steaming bowl of prawn curry, relishing the way it warmed her from the inside out. The conversation quieted slightly as half the table put away large quantities of pizza, while the other half had taken advantage of the restaurant’s eclectic array of entrees.

Donal’s movement towards her caught her attention immediately when he leaned forward, and she looked up, a bit surprised at his statement. The sarcastic side to her personality wanted to respond with a resounding “Well, duh. We were all there.” Her Southern manners held her tongue in place, quickly reminding her that she didn’t know this man, and sarcasm was a love language reserved for friends.

"You've got a keen eye. I could tell you were studying the match."

The observation made the left side of her mouth quirk upwards in a smile.

“I was,” she said, amusement in her tone. “Apparently I am incapable of just watching a football game for pure enjoyment, according to Nora. I cheered. Or, I guess, chanted? Once. At the end.” A look of playful helplessness crossed her face as she shrugged her shoulders. The mirth was quickly replaced by a more analytical look as she studied his face once again.

“You were relentless out there. I’m pretty certain I saw the other team’s keeper cross himself when the final whistle blew.”

 

[MrPositive]

Donal studied Sophia's response with quiet intensity, his sharp green eyes taking in the slight lift of her mouth and the way her shoulders straightened when she spoke. She wasn't like most of the women he'd encountered in the sport—reserved, yet with a fire that simmered just below the surface. He'd seen players like her before, the kind who treated the game as a battle of wits and will, rather than just skill. It intrigued him.

"Relentless, eh?" Donal leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice carried the hint of a smile, but there was a deliberate edge to his tone, as though he were testing her. "I'll take that as a compliment. Though I'm not sure the keeper was praying because of me. Maybe he just had a lot to confess."

Laughter rippled from Finn, seated nearby, who pointed his fork at Donal. "Oh, come off it, Donal. You know you've given plenty of keepers nightmares. I'd bet he was regretting his whole career after that second goal."

"Second goal was class," said Cillian, one of the younger players, his admiration plain. "The way you turned their center-back inside out—didn't even see it coming."

Donal gave a modest shrug, though there was a faint glint of pride in his eyes. "It's not about fancy footwork, Cillian. It's about knowing where the space is before the ball even gets to you. If you're waiting to see what the defender's going to do, you're already a step behind."

Cillian nodded eagerly, hanging on Donal's words. "Right. Anticipation. That's the key."

Donal shifted his gaze back to Sophia, tilting his head slightly. "Sounds like you already know a thing or two about that, though. A keeper's job is all anticipation, isn't it?"

"She's bloody brilliant at it," Nora interjected, grinning as she speared a piece of chicken from her plate. "You should see some of the saves she's pulled off in training. Makes us defenders feel like we're just there for decoration."

"Or liability," Maura added dryly, earning a laugh from the table.

Donal chuckled softly but kept his focus on Sophia. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone light but curious. "Then I guess I'd better keep an eye on you tomorrow. Might pick up a few tricks."

As the conversation turned to lighter topics, Donal found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't loud or flashy like some of the others, but there was a quiet confidence about her that drew him in. She didn't need to demand attention—it seemed to find her naturally.

Leaning back in his chair, he took a long sip of his pint and smiled faintly to himself. Tomorrow's match was shaping up to be more interesting than he'd expected.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

“Relentless sounded a little more gentle than merciless,” Sophia responded, her lips raising in a half smile. “But perhaps you prefer that kind of language. Unyielding could be another term. I think my personal favorite is nasty.” She grinned at that last word, making it evident that she was teasing him, but it was very much a compliment. Her brown eyes moved to Finn when he spoke, and she shook her head.

“Nah, if he's a Keeper worth his salt, he wants more.” She reached out and wrapped her hands around her cup as she spoke, the small Olympic rings tattoo visible on the inside of her left wrist. As much as it stung to get her gloves practically handed to her in a game, Sophia came alive when she was given a challenge, and always assumed that other keepers felt the same. It sparked something primal inside her that drove her forward. She followed the conversation around the table, looking back at Donal as the others spoke about his performance.

Sophia hadn't quite decided what sort of star athlete he was. Half of the best players she'd met were so arrogant and full of conceit she found it remarkable they could fit their heads through the door. The other half carried humility with them like a comfortable, well worn sweater. Sophia always imagined she fell somewhere in the middle. She wore her confidence on the field like armor, but she wasn't too big for her britches to think she was infallible.

“A keeper's job is all anticipation, isn't it?”

Before she could open her mouth, Nora jumped in, promptly taking charge of the conversation. Maura’s comment made her laugh, but she shook her head in disagreement. She truly valued these two women, both on and off the field. When Maura had moved into that starting position after the last player had been benched, it was like something magical had awoken on defense. The three of them complimented each other in a way that other teams strove for years to find. Granted, she and Nora had four years of playing together to learn each other. Maura just managed to fill that other gap effortlessly.

"Then I guess I'd better keep an eye on you tomorrow. Might pick up a few tricks.”

“Unless you decide to start putting those hands to use, I’m not sure there's anything I could teach you.” Lifting her water to her lips, she gave him a wink before taking a drink.

“You know what would be fun?” Finn’s face lit up as he spoke, and he sat up straighter. “If we could scrimmage. Both teams.”

“I don’t see the coaches going for that,” Fiona responded, shaking her head. “I think they would be too concerned about someone getting hurt.”

“The keepers have clinics together, so it’s not unheard of.” He pointed out, taking another bite of food as soon as he finished speaking.

“That’s different, though,” Isla said, her voice more soft spoken than the others. “We aren’t taking shots on each other.”

“I think we could convince them,” Kieran looked down at Nora, giving her a questioning look. “It could be fun. Maybe play it off like we want to play against the best.”

“So, you are insinuating that we are the better West Cork team,” Nora said, a sly grin spreading across her face.

“That’s not at all what I said,” Kieran immediately defended his words, a knowing smile crossing his face that told the rest of the table that this wasn’t the first time these two had entered into this debate. “I was actually going to say that it would help you all by playing against a men’s team. Put you up against more strength.”

“Right,” Nora said, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked unamused. “I’m sorry. Which team is currently playing Premiere? Oh wait, I believe that would be…that would be us, yeah?”

“Speaking of putting hands to good use,” Fiona spoke up, taking the words from Sophia’s earlier statement, and leaned forward so she could look down at Donal. “Donal, for purely research purposes…How does your girlfriend feel about you moving back to Clonakilty?”

Sophia nearly choked on her water at the question. Leave it to Fiona to ask such a brazen question over dinner, and the woman didn’t even have the good grace to look sheepish about her invasion of Donal’s privacy.

 

[MrPositive]

Donal's gaze shifted to Fiona, who had leaned forward with the kind of playful curiosity that often preceded awkward questions. He had been expecting this—well, something like it. Fiona wasn't one to let subtlety get in the way of her entertainment, and he'd caught her mischievous glances earlier in the evening. Still, the directness of her question caught him slightly off guard.

"For purely research purposes, is it?" Donal replied, his tone even but carrying the hint of a smirk as he set his fork down. The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, the other players exchanging amused or curious glances. He glanced at Finn, who arched an eyebrow but didn't intervene.

"Well," Donal began, leaning back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. "To set the record straight—there is no girlfriend, not anymore." His voice was steady, casual, but there was an undercurrent of finality to his words. "She decided to stay in England. Her life's there, and…well, we both realized it wasn't going to work long-term with me moving back here."

There was a brief silence as the table processed his words. Fiona's expression flickered with surprise before she masked it with an innocent shrug, though her eyes still danced with curiosity.

"Her loss, mate," Finn said lightly, raising his glass in mock salute. "You're better off without someone who doesn't see what this place has to offer."

Kieran chimed in with a grin, "Yeah, and now we don't have to listen to you trying to justify spending your time in London when you could be at O'Donovan's after training."

Donal chuckled at that, shaking his head. "I think I've done enough justifying to last a lifetime. But no, it wasn't about the pubs—or the football, for that matter. She had her reasons. We both did."

Fiona, undeterred, leaned forward again. "So, was it her call or yours?"

"Both," Donal answered simply, his tone measured. "Mutual, really. And before you ask, no, it wasn't some dramatic blow-up. Just two people heading in different directions."

"Fair enough," Maura said, nodding sympathetically. "But I think Fiona's asking because she's trying to figure out if she can set you up with someone."

That earned a ripple of laughter around the table, and Donal raised his hands in mock surrender. "Now, let's not turn this into a matchmaking session, yeah? I'm quite enjoying the single life for now."

"Smart man," Finn said, clapping Donal on the shoulder. "Less drama that way."

"Exactly," Donal replied with a faint grin. He glanced down the table, his gaze briefly catching on the others, but he avoided looking directly at Sophia. He had no intention of complicating things tonight.

"Well," Fiona said, her grin sly, "if you ever change your mind, Donal, I've got a list."

"A list?" Donal arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Should I be concerned?"

"Absolutely," Fiona replied without hesitation, laughing.

The conversation picked up again, flowing into talk of tactics, upcoming fixtures, and the potential scrimmage Finn had suggested earlier. Donal joined in, offering his perspective when asked, though he caught himself glancing Sophia's way once or twice. She hadn't said much since Fiona's bold question, but he couldn't help wondering what she made of it all—or, more specifically, of him.

Not that it mattered. He had enough to think about with the team, the move, and everything else. Still, the question lingered at the back of his mind, unspoken and unanswered.

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Sophia couldn’t decide if she admired Fiona’s unabashed mannerisms, or if she currently wanted to apologize on behalf of her teammate’s probing demeanor. The goalkeeper had finished her dinner, and now sat back in her chair, her hands folded primly in her lap under the table. Her brown gaze studied Donal’s face as he considered his response. She was curious how he would answer, and in what tone he would respond to Fiona. The small smirk on his face made a similar one briefly appear on her face, proof that he was taking the question in stride.

His story was a familiar one in their world. There was nothing stable about a football player’s life. Sophia had been fortunate to have been with Pride for as long as she had been, but that type of longevity with a single club wasn’t typical for everybody. Most players moved around every couple years, not to mention the grueling schedule of those who played for the national team in addition to their club. Many clubs had tried to poach her from Florida over the years, but once she’d settled close to home, she hadn’t been interested in leaving. Well, until she fled the country. It was hard to maintain relationships in this life, so she understood the idea that this life had broken apart yet another relationship. Many of her teammates had managed to make them work, though. She had several teammates who were mothers, and managed to balance their lives beautifully.

"Less drama that way."

“Finn,” Sophia spoke up with an even tone, her head tilting to the side as she looked at her fellow keeper, “I find it fascinating that you, of all people, assume women bring the drama to the relationship given the tantrum you threw in clinic the other day.”

Isla giggled, having been the only other one at the table who had borne witness to the event. Sophia adored Finn. He was the exact opposite of her in every way as a keeper. Where she was stone-faced and no-no sense, Finn always looked like he was having a party in the box. It worked for him in a way she knew would never work for her.

“I did not throw a tantrum,” Finn’s voice pitched upward an octave, practically proving Sophia’s point for her. She didn’t respond, but merely lifted an eyebrow as if to say ‘See?’ “It was a… passionate display of…goalkeeper…” Sophia’s facial expression slid into one of playful patience, her eyebrows creasing together as she nodded slowly in an effort to encourage him to find more words.

“Goalkeeper, what, exactly?” Isla teased in an uncharacteristically bold way, leaning forward on her elbow.

“Prowess.” He finished, looking proud of himself for finding a word. Sophia and Isla both looked at each other, confusion radiating on their face as they both silently acknowledged that his statement made absolutely no sense. “Besides, I can’t help it if Barr brought in his superstar striker of a son.” Crossing his arms, Finn sat back in his chair, poking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout.

“Wait,” Nora stopped in the middle of a conversation she’d been having with Kieran and looked over at Finn. “Barr’s son scored on you?”

“He’s a very accomplished striker.”

“Finn,” Nora laughed, shaking her head, “He’s ten years old.”

“I’d like to see you take him on. Don’t let his little stature fool you.” Finn shot back. The two of them dissolved into teasing one another, bantering back and forth as Kieran occasionally contributed to the conversation.

Sophia listened in on several of the conversations, her attention occasionally straying back to the man who sat in front of her. His career was well known, and she could imagine he had so many stories to tell. Even though they’d all brushed off Finn’s idea of a scrimmage, there was a big part of her that wanted to take on Donal. His speed and footwork were unparalleled, and she knew that keepers had a tendency to hate playing against him. A yawn tried to escape, and though she managed to bite it down, she knew it was time to call it a night. When it came to the night before games, she was very strict about her routine.

“All right. It’s been fun,” she said, stretching her arms above her head as she fought off another yawn. “But, we have a game tomorrow. I’m going to head home.”

“Yes, because if the princess doesn’t get her twelve hours of sleep, she might play like a mere mortal.” Nora teased her, giving Sophia a grin.

“Ha. Twelve hours of sleep would be quite phenomenal, actually. Don't stay out late.” She looked accusingly at Nora and Maura. “I don't want sloths defending me on the field tomorrow.”

“Grayson, it's called a pitch.” Finn shot the correction in her direction, receiving nothing but a sassy look from her in response.

“Good night, everyone. It was nice meeting the rest of you.” Her eyes dropped back towards Donal and she gave him a polite smile and a nod.

*

“Put some hitch in your giddy up, Stanley,” Sophia's voice rang out, cutting across the pitch. Nora shot her a look that was a cross between utter confusion and the facial expression version of a giant middle finger. Maura cackled from the right side of the box before she dropped into the middle of the box. Despite Nora's obvious annoyance, she put on a burst of speed out to the left side of the field in an effort to disrupt the ball from making it to the other team's forward, who had managed to clear the rest of their team.

They were in the second half of the game, and had just returned to the field. West Cork had managed to score one less than sixty seconds before they went in for halftime. They were the underdogs going into this game, but Sophia's words had been proven right. They’d grown so much as a team since they had last played the Kings. They’d gotten a few shots towards Sophia, but Nora and Maura had put such a spectacular amount of pressure on them that they’d launched the ball right at Sophia every time. It had been too easy. From a fan’s perspective, it was perfect. From her perspective, it was boring. She hadn't even worked up a sweat, and her dark green goalie kit was entirely too clean for her liking.

Whatever pep talk the King’s coach had given them during the half had certainly changed the game. The Kings had come out ready to rally, and the intensity had changed, along with the weather. Freezing rain poured down on the pitch, but true to her word, Sophia paid it very little attention, save for occasionally swiping water from her eyes. She’d always worn pants during games, eschewing most of the keeper's choice of shorts. The other team made a quick pass forward, but Nora's push had put her in the right position to dart in front of their opponent and take possession of the ball. With one swift kick, sent the ball sailing back to the other side of the field. Fiona was too happy to settle the ball and pass it to another forward.

Sophia looked a bit disappointed, but she went back to pacing the length between the goalposts. Her stride was steady as she moved, her eyes narrowed in on the ball at the other side of the field as it moved between players. Fiona sent the ball from the left side of the field to the center in a perfectly placed cross kick. Deirdre Kennedy, their striker, was in the perfect position, but when she jumped up to head the ball, one of the Kings’ defenders blatantly body-checked her before the ball had gotten to her.

“What the fu-” Sophia’s voice joined the cacophony of outrage that erupted from the stands. The whistle blew, drowning out the rest of the goalkeeper’s last word, and the ref awarded the free kick to Deirdre, who was a little slow to get back on her feet. She stopped pacing and moved to the top of her box, placing her hands on her knees as she squinted down the field. Her teammates were yelling encouraging words from their respective places on the field. Standing up straight, Sophia’s gaze was focused on the other goalkeeper. She brought her hands together like she typically did before someone was about to take a shot on her.

“No mercy, Dee,” she yelled, her body rocking side to side ever so slightly. The ref’s whistle went off, and she watched as Deirdre took a breath before running towards the ball. She was quick, certainly their best at penalty kicks on the team, and the moment the ball hit the back of the net, the stadium went wild. Her fellow Sea Wolves celebrated, a group of them piling into an exuberant huddle around Deirdre before breaking apart to reset the field. Sophia merely nodded, her face neutral as she turned and walked back to the smaller box. Once she was back between the two posts, she turned to face the field. She was feeling antsy, and it was starting to make her grumpy.

Being a goalkeeper was a funny thing. When a game required very little of its keeper, it was a good sign for the team as a whole. It also meant feeling like she wasn’t contributing to her team. Her gaze darted to the side, and she caught sight of Celtic taking a picture in the stands with members of the men’s team. Finn stood out because of his height, almost rivaling that of their costumed mascot. Finn had made it a point to attend as many of their games as he could, as had Kieran. Her gaze paused on Donal, though, a bit surprised to see him in the stands. There was something about him that drew her interest and curiosity, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Pushing her attention back on the game, she rubbed her hands together as the whistle sounded. The Kings were determined to make up for the two goals Celtic had scored, and they attacked the field with renewed vigor. Sophia’s attention was rapt as the ball wove its way towards her, the other team taking it out to her right. Their forward made a breakaway from Celtic’s midfielders and bulldozed her way towards Maura. Leaning forward on her toes, Sophia shuffled to the right, angling her body towards where Maura was running to meet the other player.

In the stands, Finn was on his feet, his hands on his head as he watched her. “What is she doing? She’s leaving the net open.”

“Soph!” Nora’s voice cut through her train of thought, and she reached up without breaking eye contact from the ball and tapped her left cheek twice. Nora moved to the left of the post, moving several feet in front. Sophia moved forward, her body still angled towards the right, leaving about four feet between her back and the posts. She took one more step to the right, leaving the left side of the box wide open. Maura attempted a slide tackle, and while she didn’t connect with the ball, it pressured the other offender to try to score from outside the box. Sophia had watched the other player’s eyes shift to the open side of the net, and the moment her leg drew back, Sophia had already taken one step to the left, anticipating where the other forward was going to aim. As the ball sailed towards the open side of the net, she jumped, extending her arm. Her palm connected with the ball, and she sent it sailing towards where Nora stood.

Sophia hit the ground, the wet, grassy mud seeping into the left side of her body. It had been gutsy, but after having watched the opposing player throughout the entirety of the game, she’d felt pretty confident she would take the bait. While she respected her opponent’s command of the ball, she’d found that particular forward rather predictable. Sophia quickly moved back to her feet, the onslaught of blue headed their direction not lost on her. Nora made an attempt to blast the ball forward, but one of the Kings’ midfielders headed back.

The next twenty minutes reminded West Cork why Kilkenny was sitting at the top of the leaderboard. Sophia’s wish was granted, and they gave her four shots back-to-back, making her feel like a human version of a ping pong ball. She’d had to dive for three of the four, and hadn’t managed to grab the ball to stop the game, but had gotten it back out of the box. The fourth went for the top left of the net, and Sophia had just managed to clear the length of the goal to get her fist up just in time to send it sailing up and over the crossbar.

Both teams began to set up for the corner kick.

“Nora, watch the near post.” Barking out commands, Sophia watched the kicker set up, her gaze quickly darting to the jumble players in front of her goal. Looking back as the opposing kicker’s arm went up, she took one brief look to her right as movement caught her eye. “Maura, man on!” The ball went sailing over the players, coming down towards a King player in the center of the goal. She managed to leap up for a header, and Sophia beat the ball to the net, punching it back out with a dive to the right. Unfortunately, their striker darted around the Celtic’s midfielder and kicked the ball back towards the net, aiming for the opposite end of where Sophia had been in the process of jumping back up to her feet.

2-1.

Everyone released a collective breath while the other team was celebrating in front of the box. The striker from the other team pointed at her, before bringing her finger to her lips and blowing it as one would a smoking gun.

“Thought you were supposed to be tough to score on, Grayson. Seems like they could have made a better investment with their money.”

Sophia didn’t respond. She just stared at the woman, a neutral look on her face until the other team ran off to huddle together.

The last quarter of the game was spent mostly on their side of the field, the Kings pushing harder to tie the game. West Cork managed to hold, and Sophia looked like a pig that had just spent its best life rolling in the mud. They were in the last minute of extra time, and the intensity in the stadium had grown. The Kings were determined to tie the game at this point, but the Sea Wolves were just as determined to get this win. Both teams needed this, and neither was willing to allow the other team to just take it.

The clock ticked down, and there were seconds left, but the scene in front of her box was pure chaos. Sophia kept losing track of the ball for all the bodies, but she knew they would get a shot. The ball came sailing up to her left and she lunged for it, batting it out of the way. She moved like lightning, but had just gotten to her feet when the next kick went sailing. Doing the only thing she could think to do, she dove backwards, reaching out and snatching the ball to her chest as she landed flat on her back, skidding slightly in the wet muck.

Tweet. Tweet. Tweet.

Screaming filled the air as the game concluded, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment and puffed out air. That had not been the most comfortable save. When she opened her eyes, the sight of Nora dog piling on her was the last thing she saw before several more bodies jumped on top of them.

“You are a beast!” Fiona’s voice was muffled beneath the sounds of their team screaming, and Sophia couldn’t help but laugh.

“Get off me.” Yelling through her laughter, she moved her head quickly to the side to avoid someone’s cleat. The girls began to untangle themselves and Fiona reached down to help her up.

“Flat on your back, Grayson.” The striker from the other team’s Scottish accent was dripping in sarcasm as she looked her up and down. “Is that how Callum Barclay liked you best?”

The name made everything inside her tighten, and Sophia’s head whipped towards the woman with murder in her brown eyes. She’d had no intention of responding, but the fierce expression on her face caused a couple of the women from the other team to look nervous.

“What the fuck did you say?” Nora’s usual congenial tone was gone, and as she moved in front of Sophia, it took everybody a moment to register what was happening. Nora shoved the striker from the other team. Their sweet, soft spoken defender who never raised her voice had, in the blink of an eye, become a protective mother bear who looked ready to tear this woman limb by limb. Shaking her head, Sophia reached out and grabbed Nora by the arm as the other woman’s teammates did the same for her.

“Hey,” Sophia’s voice was firm as she brought Nora’s attention back to her, “don’t give her that kind of power over your emotions. She’s not worth it. She’s just pissed because she just had her ass handed to her.”

“Yeah,” Maura’s eyes were narrowed at the retreating backs of the other team, “let’s go celebrate this win.”

It had only just registered in her ears that the stadium was chanting and screaming for them. As much as she would have been content to just walk quietly back to the locker room, she knew the fans wanted to share this moment with them. Walking over to the wall, she waved alongside her teammates. The reality of what had just happened hit her then. They had just beaten the number one team in the league.

“You have mud all over your neck and face.” Nora leaned in and yelled to be heard over the crowd. That brought a genuine smile to Sophia’s face and she laughed.

“Nora, I have mud in places a lady should never discuss in public.” Turning to look at her former roommate, the two women laughed. Taking off her gloves, Sophia scanned the audience, her gaze landing on two younger children who had to be brother and sister. There was something about the way they both looked shy and overwhelmed that tugged at her heartstrings. Jogging towards the short wall that separated the field from the stands, she softened the smile on her face as she approached them. She handed each one a glove, and felt her heart swell when they both lit up.

That’s what this is about. Offering them a wink, she went and rejoined her team.

“Ladies, the club wants to get a picture of you all with the men’s team who showed up.” Their head coach looked ready to usher them all back into the locker room so they could debrief, but Sophia recognized the head of their marketing team for the club standing next to her.

 

[MrPositive]

From Donal's vantage point, Sophia was extraordinary. He had seen world-class players in his day—teammates, opponents, legends—but something about her stood out. It wasn't just her athleticism, though that was undeniable. Her movements were purposeful and decisive, her instincts honed to perfection. Watching her predict where a ball would go, diving before the shot even left the attacker's foot, was like witnessing a chess master see six moves ahead. And yet, it was her composure under pressure that truly set her apart.

"She's a bloody warrior," Donal muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief as she launched herself through the mud to make yet another save. Even soaked, covered in grime, and clearly exhausted, Sophia never seemed rattled. She carried herself with a quiet, commanding presence that reminded Donal of the greats he'd played alongside.

When the final whistle blew, Donal couldn't suppress a grin. He stood in the rain, clapping loudly as the Sea Wolves celebrated their victory. Sophia was at the center of it all, her teammates clearly looking to her as their anchor. He watched as she laughed and joked, her intensity on the pitch giving way to a softer, more playful energy. There was something magnetic about her.

After the game, when the players gathered for a quick marketing photo with fans and sponsors, Donal lingered at the edge of the crowd. He had been asked to join for publicity reasons, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He watched as Sophia wiped rain from her face, her ponytail plastered against her neck, still smiling despite the miserable weather. She had an authenticity about her, a refusal to be anything other than herself. It was refreshing.

When the photo op ended, Donal finally got his chance. Sophia was walking back toward the locker room when he stepped into her path. For once, they were alone, the rest of the team still mingling with fans.

"That was some performance out there," he said, his voice warm with genuine admiration. "I've played with some brilliant keepers in my time, but you… you're something else, Sophia."

Sophia paused, clearly surprised by the compliment. Donal could see the faintest hint of color rise in her cheeks, though it was hard to tell with the rain still dripping down her face.

"You've got this... resilience," he continued, searching for the right words. "You don't just play the game; you command it. Watching you out there, it's clear why this team looks up to you. You're a leader, plain and simple."

For a moment, Donal hesitated, unsure if he'd said too much. But then he gave her a small, self-deprecating smile. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that. You've got my respect, Grayson. Full stop."

He could have left it there, but something compelled him to add, "And if you ever fancy a challenge, I'd be happy to take a few penalty shots at you sometime. Though I reckon I'd have to bring my A-game."

He chuckled, his tone light, but his admiration unmistakable. As he turned to let her head to the locker room, he glanced back once more, the image of her diving save etched firmly in his mind.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

When she was finally able to step into the tunnel to head to the locker room, she let out a deep breath. Stretching her neck from side to side, she lifted her arms above her head in an effort to elongate her back. If her brother managed to see a video of that last save, he would never let her live it down. She'd just dropped her arms back to her side when a larger body stepped in front of her. Sophia had been looking down and nearly ran right into him.

It took her a moment to process that Donal McLoughlin was the one who stopped her. She almost apologized for being in the way, a Southern habit whether one was at fault or not, until he spoke.

"I've played with some brilliant keepers in my time, but you… you're something else, Sophia.”

She blinked, certain she had just misheard. Had one of the best players in the world just complimented her? Sophia had to remind herself that she was a professional, and mentally kicked her brain into gear.

“You're a leader, plain and simple.”

Was she a leader on this team? Sophia had tried to not insert herself too much to give the other women the chance to own this team. After all, she was just a visitor. She chewed on the inside of her lip, her cheeks flushing slightly. Taking compliments had always been difficult for her. It was one thing when those compliments came from children. That she could handle just fine. In fact, Sophia would take children over adults any day, if given the choice. She looked down at the ground for a brief moment as he continued speaking. This was a great time for social awkwardness to put itself on display.

“Thank you,” she said, finding her voice as she looked back up at him. “Nora and Maura make me look good. It's really a team effort.”

When he suggested they meet on the pitch, her expression changed immediately, a spark of electricity dancing behind her brown eyes.

“Really?” Her fingers nearly balled up at the very thought of it, ready to go now. Mentally coaching herself down so as not to look like she was overeager, or crazy, she nodded. “That would be great. I love a good challenge. Somehow I have a feeling you don't even possess a B game.” A mischievous smile crossed her face on her last statement.

“Well, look at who we have here,” Fiona's Scottish accent cut through the tunnel, drawing Sophia's gaze from Donal to her teammate. Fiona was flanked by Isla and Finn and the three stopped in front of Sophia and Donal. “Nice of you to finally come give us a watch.”

“Grayson!” Finn grinned at her before crushing her in a long-armed hug. Sophia grimaced as the action highlighted just how wet and muddy her uniform was, the cold, gritty fabric pushing into her skin. Finn pulled back and shook his head at her. “You have to teach me that backwards leap you just pulled off at the end.”

Sophia winced with a chuckle as she looked at him. “Given that I nearly rearranged several vertebrae and have already been chewed out by Sully over it, I wouldn't recommend it.” Their goalkeeper coach had been less than impressed with the move, reminding Sophia that she wasn't any use to them injured, though he certainly appreciated the outcome.

“Donal, what brought you out to the game today?” Fiona directed her question to the striker, her demeanor shifting from focused athlete to interested woman with ease. Sophia had to give her credit for being able to do that. She could talk with men about her sport with ease, when they weren't plying her with effusive compliments. What she was less adept at was the level of flirting that seemed to come so naturally to Fiona.

“I'm going to go get cleaned up,” Sophia interrupted, offering a quick smile. “Numbness is starting to set in.”

“You look like an advertisement for a mud bath.” Fiona laughed, knowing she didn't look much better. Her dirt was just more concentrated to the right side of her shorts.

“You say the sweetest things, dear.” Giving her teammate a good natured sarcastic smile.

“Wait!” Fiona held up her hand. “We should go out tonight. We're all off tomorrow. It's a great time for the teams to get to know each other better.”

“Oh, I don't-” Sophia started to speak up, but Isla interrupted her.

“Come on, Soph. You never go out. What's the point of living in a different country if you don't ever get out and experience the culture?” She turned her big green eyes on Sophia, a pouty look that Sophia had a feeling had won her many battles. “Pleeeease? We’ll grab Nora, and I’m sure Finn and Donal can rally some of the guys.”

“Fine.” Giving in, she rolled her eyes, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Let me know what we're doing later. I really need to get cleaned up. I have mud creeping into some really unusual places. And hurry up. Coach will be waiting.”

Her smile softened as she looked back at Donal, and she gave him a nod. “Thanks, again.”

With a wave, she made her way to the locker room.

“You're from here, right?” Fiona turned back to Donal. “What's a good, local place to go? With music. We need to show the American a good time. Get her to live a little.”

 

[MrPositive]

Donal watched Sophia disappear down the tunnel, her muddied form retreating with an easy grace that belied the brutal athleticism she'd just displayed on the pitch. He folded his arms across his chest, nodding slightly to himself. She was good—damned good. But it wasn't just her ability that impressed him. There was something in the way she carried herself, a quiet resilience that reminded him of players who had clawed their way to the top despite the odds. He liked that. He barely had time to dwell on it before Fiona's sharp Scottish accent pulled him back into the present. She was looking at him expectantly, her question hanging in the air.

"A good place?" Donal repeated, glancing between Fiona and the others. He ran a hand through his dark hair, still damp. "Well, if you're looking for music, there's always McGinty's. Good live bands, decent pints, and it's not so crowded you'll be shouting over each other all night."

"McGinty's?" Fiona tilted her head, clearly running the name through her mental index of local pubs. "Sounds perfect. You've been there before, then?"

"Plenty of times," Donal replied with a wry grin. "Though I've been avoiding it lately. Last time I walked in, some lad started yelling at me about that penalty miss from three weeks ago. As if I've been losing sleep over it."

Finn barked a laugh, clapping Donal on the shoulder. "The curse of being a local legend, eh? They love you till they don't."

Donal chuckled. "Something like that." His gaze drifted back toward the tunnel where Sophia had disappeared. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, still replaying moments of the match in his mind.

"Hey, Donal," Fiona interrupted his thoughts again, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "What's the story with you and Grayson? You two seemed awfully cozy just now."

"No story," Donal said evenly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Just giving credit where it's due. She's a hell of a keeper."

Fiona raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Hell of a keeper, sure. But that's not the look of a man who just handed out a routine compliment."

Donal shook his head, laughing softly. "You've got a wild imagination, Fiona."

Finn chimed in, a broad grin splitting his face. "Come on, mate. You're not fooling anyone. You looked like you'd just found a shiny new toy."

"Right," Donal said dryly, though his tone remained good-natured. "And here I was thinking we were teammates, not gossip columnists."

The group laughed, but Fiona wasn't ready to drop the subject entirely. "Well, whatever you say, McLoughlin. But if you're coming out tonight, maybe you'll have the chance to keep handing out compliments. Might even learn a thing or two about the woman behind the gloves."

Donal shrugged, an easy, noncommittal gesture. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll just enjoy a pint and let you lot handle the socializing."

"Boring," Fiona teased, though she seemed satisfied enough. "Right, McGinty's it is. You're coming, though. No excuses."

Donal smirked. "I'll think about it."

He watched as Fiona and the others started to make their way out of the tunnel, their chatter echoing softly against the concrete walls. Turning on his heel, he headed in the opposite direction. Tonight might be interesting, he thought. McGinty's wasn't exactly where he'd expected to spend the evening, but the idea of seeing how Sophia fit into the off-pitch dynamics was... intriguing.

And if nothing else, he figured, it'd be worth a laugh watching Fiona try to charm half the room while Finn attempted to replicate Sophia's impossible save using bar stools.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
McGinty's was alive with energy that night. The hum of conversation mingled with the strumming of a live acoustic duo in the corner, their music floating over the laughter and clinking of pint glasses. Donal stepped into the pub, his sharp eyes scanning the room. It was packed enough to feel lively but not so full that you couldn't breathe. The perfect balance. He'd been here countless times over the years, but tonight, the familiar space felt charged in a way he couldn't quite explain.

A large table near the center of the room had been commandeered by a mix of the men's and women's teams. Donal recognized Finn instantly, already in animated conversation with Isla, his hands gesturing wildly as if reenacting one of Sophia's saves. Fiona leaned in close, laughing at something another teammate said, her cheeks already tinged pink from the heat of the room—or maybe the pint in front of her.

Donal made his way over, exchanging nods and handshakes with some of the lads as he pulled out a chair. His usual spot at gatherings like this was on the periphery—observing more than participating. But as he settled in, his gaze was drawn to Sophia.

She sat a few seats down, her posture relaxed but alert, listening intently to whatever Isla was saying. The pub's warm lighting caught the highlights in her hair, and for a brief moment, Donal found himself studying the way her expression shifted—how her brows arched in curiosity, or the subtle way she tilted her head when someone spoke to her. It was a side of her he hadn't seen before, away from the grit and intensity of the pitch. She seemed... grounded. Real.

"Oi, Donal!" Finn's voice snapped him back to the moment. "You're nursing that pint like it's your first ever. Come on, lad. Loosen up!"

Donal smirked, raising his glass and taking a long sip. "I'm pacing myself. Someone's got to keep an eye on you lot."

Finn laughed, slapping him on the back. "Fair enough, granddad."

The table erupted into laughter, and Donal shook his head, his grin widening. It was good to be around his teammates like this, seeing them as people rather than just players. Still, his attention drifted back to Sophia more than once. There was something unassuming about the way she carried herself in a room full of larger-than-life personalities. She wasn't loud or showy, but she didn't shrink, either. She had a quiet confidence, a presence that drew people in without demanding attention.

As the night wore on, the group started breaking off into smaller conversations. Donal found himself leaning back in his chair, his pint nearly empty, listening to the music and soaking in the atmosphere. He could hear snippets of Sophia's voice from across the table—low and steady, with the occasional burst of laughter that seemed to catch her by surprise. It was infectious, that laugh. Warm in a way that made the crowded pub feel a little less noisy, a little more intimate.

For a moment, he wondered what she was like outside of football entirely. Did she have family back in the States? Friends who missed her? What had driven her to uproot her life and come here? He realized how little he actually knew about her beyond her skill on the pitch. It was unusual for him—he prided himself on knowing his teammates, understanding what made them tick. But with Sophia, there was a mystery he hadn't yet unraveled.

"Another round, McLoughlin?" Fiona asked, her voice breaking through his thoughts as she waved at a passing server.

Donal shook his head with a faint smile. "Not yet. Still finishing this one."

"You're no fun tonight," Fiona teased, though her attention quickly turned back to the conversation she was having with Isla.

Donal leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His gaze lingered on Sophia one last time before he forced himself to look away. Maybe it was just the easy atmosphere of the pub, or maybe it was the simple fact that this was the first time he'd seen her outside of the narrow context of training and matches. Whatever it was, Donal found himself more curious than ever.

And for the first time in a long while, that curiosity unsettled him.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Sophia immediately removed her cleats when she took her seat in the locker room. Her socks had to be peeled off her legs, the wet mud making the fabric cling to her skin. Ever since she was a child, removing her shin guards and socks after a game had been one of the most relieving feelings she'd ever felt. Her toes felt like ice. It had gone unnoticed during the game, but now that her adrenaline had come down, the wet chill that seeped below her uniform was evident.

Once the remaining women trickled in, their coaches debriefed them on the game. They went over the plays they’d done well, and what they needed to focus on at practice. Given the win they’d pulled off, it was relatively brief. After the coaches cleared out, the team began to undress and change, going about their cool down routines. Sophia showered, taking longer than she normally would have to let the hot water pound the muscles in her neck. When she hopped out, she waited her turn for the physical therapist. Fiona and Isla saddled up beside her to wait.

“Well, if it isn't the woman who single handedly caught the attention of Ireland's most eligible football bachelor.” A sly smile spread over Fiona's face as she crossed her arms.

“What?” Sophia tilted her head to the side, a questioning look on her face.

“You didn't notice?” Isla looked genuinely surprised as she took a seat.

“Notice what?”

“Girl, Donal McLoughlin could barely keep his tongue in his mouth.” Fiona looked way too giddy.

“What?” The next voice that rang out was Nora's as she sat up on the table where she’d been getting her rubdown. Sophia, on the other hand, burst out laughing, incredulity lighting up her normally intense features.

“Fiona, did you get hit on the head today? It wasn't like that at all. He was just complimenting the team on the game.” Rolling her eyes, Sophia shook her head, trying her best to look perturbed.

“You, Grayson. He complimented you. I’d be annoyed because I was hoping to make a play for him, but I pride myself in being a selfless teammate.”

“You are completely wrong.” Sophia's denial remained firm. “He’s a colleague. A newly met colleague, but one all the same.”

“Soph, he watched you walk down the tunnel. The entire way.” Isla spoke up, her eyes twinkling with bashful mischief.

“Wait. He did what?” Nora propped herself up on her elbows, looking between the three women as she practically squealed her question. The physical therapist promptly pushed her back down.

“Now you're exaggerating.” Sophia threw up her hands in exasperation.

“No, she's not.” Fiona came to Isla’s defense, though it was unnecessary given that Isla was the least likely to exaggerate anything. “His gaze lingered on you until you were out of sight. He clearly liked what he saw.”

A sound resembling a squeal came from Nora’s area, and Sophia found herself rolling her eyes for the second time in such a short period.

“Fiona, if you are interested, then perhaps you should pursue him. I don't date colleagues.” Sophia tried to bring order to the conversation with her declaration, but her words seemed to have the opposite effect.

“I think the men’s team is more…colleague adjacent.” Fiona grinned as she winked. “Either way. We're going to McGinty’s tonight.”

*
When she’d arrived back at her flat, Sophia had taken a proper shower, ensuring every piece of mud and dirt found its way off her body. It had taken several qtips to clear her right ear, but by the time she finished, she felt human again. Looking at herself in the mirror, she unwrapped her towel and examined the evidence of the game. She'd picked up a bruise to her left thigh, and the underside of the same arm. She vaguely remembered a cleat coming into contact with that arm. Dressing casually, she grabbed a pair of wide leg jeans and pulled them on. Before buttoning them, she pulled on a white tank top that hugged her curves and tucked it in.

By the time she walked into McGinty's, she'd thrown on a loose fitting navy blazer, the sleeves pushed up, and looked more feminine with her hair down and makeup done than she had covered in mud and grass.

Sophia quickly wondered why it had taken her so long to step foot inside an Irish pub. When she stepped inside, the warmth and coziness immediately overtook her. The only sightseeing she’d done since arriving had been hiking and running trails. She liked the character of the pub, and even though she wasn't a drinker, could appreciate the entire vibe.

When Donal walked through the door, Sophia noticed, though she made every effort not to show it. She took it as a sign that Fiona had wormed her way inside her thoughts. It was normal to acknowledge that someone was attractive. After all, anyone could look at the man and admit that he was the kind of attractive that drew the attention of anyone who found men attractive. Despite Sophia's earlier statement about not dating men in their business, she'd always had a weakness for soccer players. Donal moved like the athlete he was, and despite having spent half her life around athletes like him, there was something about the expression in his green eyes that piqued her interest. Which was enough reason to shift her attention everywhere but his direction.

Focusing on Isla, she listened intently as the woman shared a story from her early playing days. Finn’s voice caught her attention when he called out Donal’s name, and she couldn't help but look in his direction, as did half the table. Sophia watched Donal’s face soften when he smiled. It made him look like a completely different person than the fiery, intense player he exhibited on the field. She had been told that before about herself.

Fiona stood up and leaned down in Finn’s ear, whispering something to him. Sophia's brow creased slightly when she saw the look of pure mischief spread on the keeper’s face and he nodded. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to Isla, but was quickly distracted when Finn’s giant form hopped up with the lightness that conveyed his position.

“All right, Grayson.” Clapping his hands together, he walked around the table and reached down for her hand. “If we can't convince you to have the traditional Irish pint, you must have a dance to a traditional Irish band.”

“What?” Pure panic lit up Sophia's normally controlled face, her voice pitched high. She'd immediately started shaking her head, but Finn’s grin only expanded as he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Let's go!”

“No, Finn, I can't dance like that. I'm not -”

“Yes, you can. Let's go. You can't play for the Irish and not experience the life.” Finn used his strength to uproot Sophia from the spot, ignoring her objections.

“Let's go, Donal!” Fiona grabbed his arm to pull him towards the dance floor.

“Yes!” Kieran grabbed Nora's hand, who was a much more willing participant.

The band had just started an upbeat tune, and Finn immediately pulled Sophia into his lanky arms, leading her around the dance floor. Despite the panic, Sophia's nervous laughter bubbled out as she settled in ever so slightly.

 

[MrPositive]

Donal felt Fiona tug at his arm, her grin wide and full of mischief. "Come on, McLoughlin. Don't just sit there like a lump. Show us you've got some rhythm!"

He gave her an amused look, raising his nearly empty pint as if to suggest he'd rather finish it. But Fiona wasn't having it. "Don't make me drag you," she warned.

With a sigh that was more feigned than genuine, Donal stood. "All right, all right," he muttered. His eyes flicked toward the dance floor, where Finn was already spinning Sophia into the rhythm of the music. Her nervous laughter carried faintly over the lively melody, and Donal couldn't help but smirk. Finn had a way of disarming people, even those as composed as Sophia. Donal followed Fiona into the fray, the music pounding through the floorboards as couples spun and twirled. The dance floor wasn't overly crowded, but it was lively, the kind of scene that could pull even the most reserved person into its energy. He moved with practiced ease, matching the tempo with light steps and quick turns as Fiona led the way through the motions, her own movements sharp and confident.

Before long, partners began to swap, a natural flow to the dance that brought new faces and unexpected pairings. Donal shifted to his next partner, offering an easy smile to Nora before spinning her once and stepping into the beat. His eyes caught brief glimpses of Sophia as she moved with Finn, her hesitation melting as the music carried her. She wasn't a natural at the steps, but she had an athlete's grace, adapting quickly enough to keep pace.

And then, as the dance continued, Donal found himself face to face with her. It wasn't planned—at least, not by him—but there she was, standing just inches away, her hair framing her face and a slight flush coloring her cheeks. Donal hesitated for the briefest moment, caught off guard by the sudden proximity. Then, with a small, reassuring smile, he offered his hand.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice steady but low enough to be lost in the din of the music.

She didn't hesitate, though there was still a trace of nervous energy in the way her hand met his. Donal shifted seamlessly into the rhythm, keeping his steps measured and controlled. He guided her with an ease born of years of physical awareness, letting the tempo dictate their movements.

"You're getting the hang of it," he said, his tone light, almost teasing. "Not bad for a self-proclaimed non-dancer."

Her response was lost in the noise, but the slight lift of her brow told him she'd caught the playful jab. They moved in sync, her uncertainty giving way to a natural rhythm as she followed his lead. Donal kept his hold steady but light, aware of the way she adjusted her steps to match his.

The band shifted into a livelier section, the tempo quickening, and Donal adapted without missing a beat. "This part's faster," he warned with a grin. "Think you can keep up?"

He could feel her adjusting again, her movements growing more confident as the dance carried them across the floor. Donal found himself studying her more closely than he meant to—the way her features softened when she laughed, the determination in her expression as she focused on the steps. She was different here, away from the sharp focus and professionalism of the pitch. Still composed, but with a hint of something warmer, something that tugged at the edges of his thoughts.

As the music swelled to its climax, Donal spun her once, his movements precise but unhurried. When they came to a stop, the room erupted into applause for the band, and Donal stepped back, his hand releasing hers.

"Not bad at all," he said, his smile lingering. "You might make a dancer yet."

The room began to shift as the next song started, couples moving to rejoin their groups or grab drinks. Donal took a half step back, giving her space, but his gaze lingered for a moment longer than it should have. Then, with a slight nod, he turned and made his way back toward the table, his thoughts unsettled by the encounter.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

“Grayson, I don't think,” Finn’s voice cut off as he turned them, “you missed your calling as a ballerina.” Grinning that impish grin he used frequently on the field, Finn squeezed her hand tighter as he intentionally spun her in a way to throw off her balance. Laughing, Sophia practically stumbled against him. Bringing her hand to his shoulder, she playfully shoved him, the motion nearly pushing him off balance.

“I went to a ballet class once,” Sophia managed to say, despite the difficulty she was having catching her breath. Finn was so much taller than she was it took twice as much effort to keep up with him.

“Once?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“I got kicked out.”

“For what?” He looked down at her, a dubious expression on his face. Sophia started laughing at the memory, and it took her a minute to spit out her response.

“I tackled another kid.” The top of her tongue stuck out between her teeth as her nose wrinkled through her grin. Finn's laugh carried across the dance floor as his head tipped back.

“Of course you did.”

“My mom enrolled me in soccer the next week.”

The song came to an end, and she and Finn came to a stop, clapping for the band.

“You're too much, Grayson. Go dance.” Finn grabbed her hand, spun her half a turn until she was facing the man behind her, and gently pushed her forward. Looking up, she met Donal’s green eyes. The playfulness faded from her tan features and she offered him a tentative smile, uncertain what to do. Sophia had a level of comfort with Finn because they’d spent so much time together, but Donal was definitely an unknown entity. She was always a little closed off to people when she first met them, especially after the last couple of years.

Her brown eyes dipped to his extended hand when he held it out, his two word question hovering between the two of them. Looking up, she reached out and laid her hand in his. Bringing her other hand up, she rested it on his shoulder, his height much easier to account for than Finn's.

Her body fell into his rhythm naturally, the stride between her steps more in line with what felt normal. His stature felt warm in front of her, and despite the quick pace of the music, felt less frenzied.

"Think you can keep up?”

“That sounds like a challenge more than a question.” Chuckling, she tightened her grip on him slightly. “I’ll try. Or fail trying.”

She didn't fail, though. While she didn't think Ireland would be knocking on her door to offer her citizenship anytime soon, she didn't fall on her butt or bump into anyone.

"You might make a dancer yet.”

“I don't know about that. I thought I was in shape.” Laughing as she tried to catch her breath, she rested her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were dancing with energy as she looked up at him, her gaze catching on his as he looked down at her. Then he was gone.

Just like that. Sophia stood there for a minute, confused about his sudden departure. Fiona walked by her, giving her a confused look. Sophia shrugged her shoulders and turned to walk back with her teammate.

“You managed to hang in there, Soph, but don't quit your day job.” Teasing her as they returned to the table, Fiona nudged her shoulder against the keeper.

“I never said I couldn't dance. I said I couldn't dance like that.” Laughing, she held her hands up in defense.

“I can vouch for that.” Nora came up beside Sophia, throwing an arm around her shoulder like she did when they were on the field. “I got this one to come out exactly once during college to a club. Don't let the Arctic Wall nickname fool you. Those hips can move.”

Sophia's pinks tinged pink as she shook her head, laughing.

“My Spanish grandmother thanks you for the compliment.” Looking at Nora, Sophia lifted her arms up slightly and shook her hips before gently pushing her defender off her. Making her way to her seat, she sat down and took a long drink of her water. Her eyes briefly flicked to Donal, but she didn't linger. Had she done something wrong? Setting her glass on the table, she looked back at Finn. “Did I pass the test?”

Finn seemed to consider the question, dramatically rubbing his chin. “For now. Team decision, though.” Sitting up, he looked up and down the table at the rest of the team. “We need to give our American here the real Irish experience outside of the pitch. What should we do with her next?”

 

[MrPositive]

Donal sat back at the table, gripping his pint loosely, his knuckles brushing the cool condensation on the glass. The lively hum of the pub washed over him, a mix of music, laughter, and chatter, but it felt distant, muffled, as if he were caught in his own space apart from it all. He watched the others filter back to their seats, faces flushed from dancing, voices loud with the glow of camaraderie.

His own heart was still racing, though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't from the dancing—not entirely. Sophia had been a surprisingly natural partner, her steps falling into sync with his almost effortlessly. She had smiled, laughed, even teased him, but he had felt something else in the moments in between. A sense of guardedness, as if she were trying to keep him at arm's length even as they moved so closely.

Donal leaned back in his chair, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. What was it about her? She wasn't the first strong-willed teammate he'd encountered, nor the first player he'd seen capture the attention of the room. But there was something in the way her brown eyes flicked to his—not shy, but cautious. Like she'd measured him and wasn't entirely sure yet where he stood.

And that made him uncertain, too. He didn't like uncertainty. Not on the pitch, and not in life.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Finn's booming voice.

"Team decision!" Finn declared, slamming his hand on the table for effect. "Our American here's had her first Irish dance. But what should we do with her next? Real Irish experience, outside the pitch. Ideas?"

Donal glanced up, noting the gleeful conspiratorial looks exchanged around the table. Finn, grinning like a schoolboy, was clearly enjoying himself far too much.

"Another dance!" Nora called out, throwing an arm around Sophia's shoulders again.

"No, no," Fiona interjected, waving her hand. "She's passed the dance test. Barely," she added with a teasing grin in Sophia's direction. "But we've got to do better than that."

"Teach her to pull a proper pint," Kieran suggested, raising his glass for emphasis.

"Ah, that's too easy," Finn said with a scoff. "She needs a challenge."

Donal smirked into his pint before setting it down on the table. "You all are thinking too small," he said, his voice calm but carrying just enough weight to draw attention.

Finn's brows lifted. "Oh, aye? What are you thinking, McLoughlin?"

Donal took his time answering, leaning forward slightly. His gaze flicked briefly to Sophia before returning to Finn. "Take her out for a proper night under the stars."

The table quieted slightly, a few confused looks passing between teammates.
"Under the stars?" Fiona echoed.

Donal shrugged casually, though there was a glint of mischief in his eye now. "A night hike. Show her the hills, the real beauty of this place. No pub, no dance floor—just Ireland at its best. Let her see why we're proud of it."

A pause lingered, the others considering the idea.

Finn was the first to break the silence, nodding slowly as his grin reappeared. "I'll admit, I didn't have you pegged for the poetic type, Donal. But I'll give it to you. Not bad."

Kieran laughed. "As long as we don't get her lost out there."

"I'll bring the torches," Nora added, already looking excited.

Donal leaned back, content with how the idea had landed. He hadn't expected to speak up, but the thought had come to him almost unbidden. It felt...right, somehow.

And maybe, just maybe, it'd help clear up the uncertainty that had settled in his chest ever since he'd taken her hand on the dance floor.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Sophia felt mortified that she had somehow become the center of attention of their group. It was bad enough to get thrown so far out of her comfort zone she couldn't even see the border any longer. It was another level of horror for her to now be the topic of conversation in a social situation. Looking nervous, she watched Finn, her eyes narrowing in a playful glare.

“Finn, I’m here to work. Not to go sightseeing.” Shaking her head, she tried to ignore the urge to drum her fingers on the table.

“Shush.” Holding up a finger in her direction, Finn’s eyes moved around the table.

"She's passed the dance test. Barely."

She gave Fiona a sassy nose wrinkle that accompanied a sarcastic smile. It quickly faded into a genuine smile for her teammate. Fiona had been the last person she’d honestly thought would befriend her this season, but Soph had developed a soft spot for the Scot. She’d received a lot of negativity because of Scotland’s prodigal son, and she’d expected no different from the forward. Instead, she’d been the first one outside of Nora to lower her wall to speak with her.

"Teach her to pull a proper pint."

“Absolutely not.” She immediately dissented, though it was overshadowed by Finn’s louder voice opposing the idea. Realizing she wasn’t going to have much of a say in this new game her teammates were playing, she sat back in her chair with a sigh, a disgruntled look on her face as various ideas were thrown about.

Donal’s voice soothed the boisterousness that had been bouncing around the table, and Sophia’s eyes fell to him along with everyone else’s. Crossing one leg over another, she studied him with the same intensity she used on the field, curious what ideas were running through his head. She wasn’t a flashy person, and her immediate assumption was that he was going to recommend something ostentatious, a leaning most elite athletes she knew favored. When he did speak, her eyes softened, and she tilted her head slightly as something warm settled in her chest.

“No pub, no dance floor—just Ireland at its best.”

A small, faint smile twitched on the left side of her lips, and her eyes remained locked on him as the conversation picked up around her. She didn’t say anything out loud, but the idea of a night hike sparked a light inside of her. This man didn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she did okay in a goalbox, and yet he’d managed to throw an idea on the table that fit her so perfectly it was almost eerie.

The conversation finally turned away from her experience in the Emerald Isle, much to her delight. Sitting back, she allowed the others to dominate the rest of their time together. Eventually she yawned, the late hour wearing on her. Sophia was a creature of habit, and being up hours past when she would normally be in bed hit her like a brick wall.

“Soph, you are so old,” Nora pointed out, laughing at her. Shaking her head, Sophia reached up and covered her mouth as she tried to stifle another yawn.

“It’s past this grandma’s bedtime,” she responded, winking at Nora. “I do need to head out. Tomorrow will be here early.”

“You can sleep in. We don’t have practice.” Nora pointed out. Sophia looked scandalized at the very notion.

“I need to go to bed.” Choosing to respond politely rather than sarcastically, she looked at her former roommate.

“Oh, fine.” Rolling her eyes, Nora wrapped her arm through Kieran’s as she leaned into his shoulder. “Are you going for a run tomorrow or are you going to give yourself a break?”

Sophia’s eyebrow lifted at Nora, giving her a silent ‘What do you think?’ with her face alone. Nora rolled her eyes again and laughed, shaking her head.

“Apologies. That was the wrong question. Where are you going for a run tomorrow?”

“Um…” Wincing slightly, she pulled out her phone and looked up the place she’d bookmarked. “Inchy…doney Island Loop?” Meeting Nora’s eyes, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. I probably just butchered that pronunciation. Please don’t kick me out of the country.” The pained look on Nora and Kieran’s faces made her grimace. “I said I’m sorry!”

Nora shook her head, closing her eyes in dramatic fashion as she exhaled slowly.

“It was a valiant effort.” Nora’s tone was in direct opposition to the words she actually spoke as she looked back at Sophia. “What time are you heading out? Nine? Ten?”

Sophia looked scandalized again. “Seven. Y’all are welcome to join me.” Smiling sweetly, she shrugged her shoulders playfully.

“Ew. Too early.” Fiona spoke up, her nose wrinkling.

“I’m sorry.” Kieran looked at Sophia as if she had just grown a second head. “Y’all?”

Chuckling, Sophia stood up and reached down to grab her purse.

“You all.” Emphasizing the two words, Sophia looked at him pointedly. “If you all want to join me for an early morning run, I’ll be at the Ich…Inch…yeah. That place. Good night.”

 

[MrPositive]

Donal nursed the last of his pint, watching as Sophia stood, shouldering her bag and offering her goodbyes. He caught the brief flicker of amusement in her expression as she butchered the pronunciation of Inchydoney. It wasn't surprising—Irish names tended to trip up anyone not raised with them—but what did surprise him was the ease with which she laughed at herself. For all the guardedness she carried, there were moments—small, fleeting—where something warmer broke through. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass as the conversation shifted away from her. Inchydoney. Seven in the morning.

The rational part of his mind told him to leave it. It was her run, her routine. She hadn't invited him specifically. But Donal had spent enough years on the pitch to recognize when someone moved with purpose, and Sophia Grayson didn't seem like the type who enjoyed surprises. Which made him want to show up all the more. He didn't say anything as the night wound down. Finn and the others remained animated, debating everything from training regimens to which pub had the best chips. Donal let their voices fade into the background, his thoughts already elsewhere.

A run at Inchydoney. The beach would be quiet at that hour, the only sounds the waves rolling against the shore and the occasional call of seabirds overhead. It was a good place to think, to clear the mind. And perhaps to get a better read on Sophia Grayson. Donal wasn't entirely sure why he cared. Maybe it was curiosity—she was new, after all, and not just to the team but to Ireland itself. Maybe it was something else, something less tangible. Either way, he'd be there. Seven sharp.​

---

The early morning air was sharp with the scent of salt and seaweed as Donal pulled into the small, nearly empty car park overlooking the beach. Inchydoney stretched before him, the tide having pulled back to reveal a wide expanse of smooth, damp sand. The sky was still streaked with the last remnants of dawn, the horizon tinged in soft hues of pink and gold.

He cut the engine and sat for a moment, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. The world felt still at this hour—no crowds, no noise, just the quiet rush of the waves and the occasional call of a gull overhead. It was a stark contrast to the energy of the previous night, the music, the laughter, the way Sophia had moved across the dance floor with guarded ease.

Movement caught his eye. Sophia's car pulled into a spot a few spaces away, the engine shutting off a moment later. The door opened, and she stepped out, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the last traces of sleep. Donal watched as she stretched her arms overhead, her breath visible in the crisp morning air. There was something almost methodical about it—the way she shook out her limbs, adjusted her watch, took a steadying breath. A ritual, no doubt. The kind of routine an athlete built into their bones.

He smirked slightly to himself. She hadn't seen him yet. Leaning back against his seat, Donal debated for a moment whether to wait for her to notice him or make his presence known first. A surprise, sure, but not the kind meant to unsettle. Just enough to make her wonder. The waves crashed against the shore, steady and constant, as he opened his door and stepped out into the morning.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

By the time Sophia walked into her apartment, she felt Nora's joke about being old in her exhaustion. In her defense, she had never been a late night person. When Jack was born, she'd taken her role as his big sister very seriously, and was always up early with her mother or father when he’d woken at the crack of dawn. As he’d gotten older, he would always sneak into her room to wake her up so they could go watch early morning cartoons and eat cereal together. Early mornings had become magical and special to her, and she’d continued to hold onto them. That habit had served her well as an athlete, during her years as a student and as a professional.

Though at the moment, it truly did make her feel as old as time. It wasn't even midnight yet, and Sophia's drowsy mind was rebelling against rational thought. Instead, it wandered to Donal as she got herself ready for bed. Pulling her hair up in a high bun, she quickly hopped in the shower to wash the pub from her skin. Sophia had become cautious around her male counterparts over the last couple of years, and while she'd managed to find something resembling a balance in how she reacted to them, she rarely let her guard down. Finn had been a very fast exception to that rule, but Sophia realized almost at once that her fellow keeper was really a giant puppy.

Donal was a curiosity to her. It was strange for her to be in the company of someone who was just as content to fade into the background as she was. She would have expected a player of his caliber and reputation to flaunt his status. Goodness knew she'd certainly come face to face with enough egotistical, misogynistic male athletes to last a lifetime. From the very little time she'd spent in his presence, she hadn't gotten that vibe from him.

Then again, Sophia wasn't entirely certain she trusted her own instincts anymore. She'd been fooled before, and the consequences for that lapse in judgement had continued to follow her.

Crawling into bed, she burrowed beneath her covers, committed to only viewing Donal through a professional lens. He was one of the best strikers in the world, and if she could get some practice in against him, it could only improve her game.

*

When her alarm woke her, she groaned into the quietness of her bedroom. Rolling out of bed, she couldn't decide whether she regretted the previous night or not. She'd had fun, but she was paying the price for it now. Routine had been her saving grace over the last few years with all the chaos that had spiraled out of her control.

Pulling on a pair of running leggings, she made quick work of putting on her sports bra, tank top, and a hoodie. Sliding her thumbs through the holes in the sleeve, she filled up her water bottle and left the house. The drive to the parking area took less than ten minutes, and by the time she arrived, the sky was showing off an assortment of watercolors. A small smile appeared on her face as she looked up at the mostly clear sky. She'd accepted months ago that a large amount of her life now consisted of being wet and damp, so these days where she was able to run without the rain were a blessing.

Grabbing her running belt, she popped out of the car, the cool air waking her up a little bit more. Sliding her keys and phone into the little bag, she wrapped it around her waist and began stretching. She didn't have to think about her movements, the routine engrained in her, and she allowed the familiar pull of her muscles to clear her mind. Once she finished warming her body up, her muscles were itching in anticipation of the physical strain she knew lay ahead. Running in Ireland had certainly improved her stamina, the hills and oftentimes slick ground forcing her to use her muscles differently. It was very different from the flat trails she frequented back home.

As she began walking to the trailhead, her brown eyes scanned the area around her, something she always did when running alone. She was almost in front of Donal’s car when she drew up short, her brow furrowing in confused recognition. Her eyes flicked back to her own car for a moment, as if contemplating a return to the safety of the vehicle. Instead she stepped over to the driver's side and waited for him to roll down the window or open the door. When he finally did, Sophia was careful to school her features.

“What are you doing here?” She was proud that the question lacked the accusatory tone she'd bitten back.

 

[MrPositive]

Donal smirked as he pushed open the car door, stepping out into the crisp morning air. The beach stretched out behind him, waves rolling in with a steady rhythm, the sky painted in soft pastels. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, glancing at Sophia with a raised brow.

"Good morning to you too," he said, his voice still rough with the remnants of sleep. He rolled his shoulders, easing out the stiffness from the drive. "Figured I'd get a run in before the day starts. Thought this spot looked decent."

His tone was even, casual, giving nothing away. He watched as she processed his presence, the slight furrow in her brow betraying her surprise. He could tell she was assessing him, trying to make sense of why he was here. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure himself. The idea had struck him last night as she spoke about her plans. He could have chosen any number of routes closer to home, but something about catching her off guard had been too tempting to pass up. Not in a cruel way—just enough to break whatever expectations she had about him.

He turned his gaze out toward the water, as if to let her decide whether to question him further or simply accept his presence. The waves crashed against the shore, a steady pulse in the quiet morning.

"Didn't think I'd be the only one up at this hour, did you?" He shot her a sideways look, lips twitching into a half-smile. "Or did you just assume no one else was mad enough to come out here this early?"

He could see the calculations running behind her sharp brown eyes, the internal debate of whether to believe him or press him for the real reason he was here. Donal had no intention of offering one. Not yet, anyway.

Instead, he took a step back, giving her space. "You set the pace. I'll try to keep up."​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Sophia watched him get out of his car, her eyes a bit wary. She looked around again, checking to see if anyone else from either team had also arrived. The fact that she'd issued an invitation the night before came tumbling back into the forefront of her mind. She'd issued it more as a joke, not expecting anyone who’d been out drinking late to actually rise with the sun to go out for a leisurely run.

“Good morning to you too.”

She winced slightly, feeling guilty for her less than friendly greeting. Mentally pulling herself back down from her hypervigilant state, she clenched her jaw as she processed the choices that lay before her. Her gaze followed his out to the water, the scenery filling her soul with the type of serenity that only the sound of rolling waves could.

"Or did you just assume no one else was mad enough to come out here this early?”

His question solicited a laugh from her, the iciness on her face melting into amused warmth. The salty breeze whipped against her face, causing a few small strands of hair to slip free from her ponytail as amusement tipped into her smile.

“Yeah, my early morning runs don’t typically receive enthusiasm from others. Nora’s come with me a couple times, but I think that was more out of obligation to make sure I didn't get lost. Or, you know, topple off a cliff.”

“You set the pace. I'll try to keep up.”

His words did pull her from the trance-like stare she'd fallen into, and her eyes moved to his face, scrutinizing his features. Eventually, she nodded slowly.

“All right. I planned to loop this a few times since it's only a few miles.” Forgoing her earbuds, she picked her way down to the beach, shifting into a warm up jog once she reached the compacted sand. Running on the beach had become part of her routine once she'd become old enough to drive as a teenager. There was no better backdrop in her opinion than the salty breeze and rhythmic crashing of the water to just lose herself and forget the rest of the world.

She jogged in silence for a while until they came up on the half turned boat that had clearly been grounded for some time. Slowing to a walk, she looked at it curiously.

“What's the story there?”

 

[MrPositive]

Donal slowed his pace as he and Sophia reached the grounded vessel, the old boat half-turned and forgotten on the sandy shore. He paused for a moment, letting his eyes linger on its weathered hull and rusted railings, before turning toward her with a measured smile.

"This old boat?" he began, his voice low enough to be intimate against the backdrop of crashing waves. "It used to be something of a legend around here. Back in the day, she wasn't just a boat—she was the heart of our little fishing community."

Donal's gaze never wavered from the half-submerged craft as he continued, "You see, for generations, these waters were filled with hardworking fishermen who knew every tide and current. They relied on vessels like that one to bring in their catch and, with it, a living. But over time, things changed." He gestured vaguely toward the horizon with a slow sweep of his hand. "Big companies from the city started moving in, buying up everything in sight, pushing aside the local folk. They monopolized the trade, and soon enough, boats like this were left to rust away on the shore, reminders of a way of life that's slowly disappearing."

Donal's tone held both admiration and melancholy as he spoke. "To me, this boat symbolizes something much bigger. It's a relic of local pride—a piece of history that speaks to community and self-reliance. When I returned to West Cork, I wanted to be part of that legacy, to remind myself and everyone around me that there's value in holding onto what makes us who we are." He paused, letting the significance of his words sink in. "This isn't just about fishing or the economy. It's about preserving a culture, about remembering that every person in this town played a role in its story."

He took a step closer to the boat, his boots sinking slightly into the damp sand, and ran his hand along the splintered edge of its railing. "Every mark, every scar on this wood tells a story of hardship, of perseverance, and of pride. I remember my childhood, when my father would take me out on boats like this, and I'd listen to the sound of the waves as if they were the heartbeat of the town. It's those memories—the local traditions, the sense of belonging—that drove me back here, to a place where community matters more than profit margins and corporate takeovers."

Donal's eyes softened as he glanced at her, though he kept his words measured and respectful. "I wanted to come back because I felt that spark again—that need to be part of something authentic. Out there, on that water, our fishermen weren't just making a living. They were keeping a tradition alive, something that gave this town its soul." He shifted his weight, his expression earnest as he continued, "And I believe that if we forget where we come from, if we allow the big players to erase the smaller voices, then everything that made this place unique will vanish."

He exhaled slowly, the salty breeze mingling with his words. "So when you see that abandoned boat, I hope you see more than just a relic. I hope you see a symbol of our local pride and a reminder that every community, no matter how small, has its own story worth preserving. That's why I came back, why I stay here—because I believe in that legacy, in the importance of holding on to our roots."

Donal's voice dropped to a quieter tone, as if sharing a secret meant only for those who truly understood. "And if you ever wonder what drives a man like me, it's this: the belief that there's more to life than chasing the next big win. Sometimes, it's about remembering who you are, and where you come from. And in West Cork, that means cherishing every part of our history—even an old boat left behind on the beach."

He gave a small, reflective smile, his gaze returning to the weathered vessel as the gentle rhythm of the tide filled the silence between his words. "I suppose it's a challenge—to hold onto the past while moving forward. But maybe, just maybe, that's what makes coming home so powerful."

Donal fell silent then, allowing the waves to speak for him as he and Sophia continued their run along the beach, each step echoing the resilient spirit of a community determined not to be forgotten.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Sophia’s eyes drifted from the abandoned vessel to Donal as he spoke, her eyes studying the way his eyes took on a distant expression as he spoke. She felt as though she were Dorothy, peeking behind the curtain and discovering the secret of the power wizard. He was just a man. The difference was that Sophia felt like she was getting a glimpse of the real man behind the curtain, not a facade. This side of Donal felt miles away from the pierce, unrelenting competitor she’d seen on the field. As he continued to speak, she watched him, empathy for the town dawning in her chest. She’d enjoyed playing for Clonakilty, but she hadn’t really considered the town’s history since she’d been here. If there was something she understood, it was watching your hometown evolve into something one hardly recognized.

“I get that.” She spoke softly, nodding as she maintained eye contact with him. “I’m from a beach town, too. It’s hard to see the old mom and pop hotels bulldozed down for high rise condos. We’ve always been more of a resort town than a fishing town, but locals have been priced out of the area for decades. Throw in a few angry hurricanes, and she’s been pretty beat up over the years, which makes it even easier for developers to come in and buy up demolished homes and build new million dollar houses. But there are pockets where that original local, beach town vibe survives. There is something therapeutic about being near the water. For me, walking down by the beach or being out on a boat or a surfboard, it just made the rest of the world melt away. There was no pressure to be a certain way or do a certain thing. It was like this magical place that slowed everything down.”

Picking up her pace again, she jogged on, allowing her body to fall into the leisurely rhythm she preferred in the morning. Her morning runs had always been more about spending quiet time with herself before the start of her day than pushing for speed. The stretch of beach quickly disappeared behind them as they followed the loop away from the water. At one point the trail became too narrow for her to feel comfortable to run on, so she slowed to a walk, carefully picking her way through so as not to slip on the previous day’s wet remnants.

“Since you are from here, do you have a favorite place you like to go?” Glancing behind her briefly, her curiosity was evident on her face. Turning back, she had to bring her hands out quickly to keep her body from slipping.

 

[MrPositive]

Donal followed Sophia's lead, keeping an easy stride as they moved away from the shoreline. The conversation had settled into something quieter now, the rhythm of their breathing and the soft give of the damp sand beneath their feet filling the spaces between words.

When she asked her question, he let out a quiet breath, considering it. "A favorite place?" He echoed, his voice thoughtful. "Hard to pick just one."

He adjusted his pace as the trail narrowed, his focus briefly shifting to the uneven ground. "There's a spot up along the cliffs near Dunowen. Not many tourists know about it. Used to go there as a lad, especially when I needed to clear my head. You stand at the edge, and all you can see is the Atlantic stretching out in front of you—feels like the end of the world in the best way. The wind cuts right through you up there, no matter the time of year. Makes you feel small in a way that's... grounding."

Donal let the thought settle for a moment before adding, "That's where I go when I need to put things in perspective. Reminds me that whatever's weighing me down is just a speck in the grand scheme of things."

He stepped carefully over a patch of loose stones, glancing at the trail ahead. "Then again, if I'm looking for something quieter, I head to a little cove near Glandore. Got to climb down a bit to get to it, but once you're there, it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist. Just the sea, the rocks, and the sound of the water." He let out a small chuckle. "Some might call it an escape. I call it peace."

His voice turned slightly wry as he added, "Suppose I've got a few places like that. Guess it depends on whether I need to be reminded how small I am—or if I just need to disappear for a while."

Donal let the words hang for a moment before shifting back to something lighter. "What about you? Got a place that feels like home, even when you're not there?"​