God Of football

Chapter 396: League Preparations

The lazy rhythm of the morning was hard to shake, but eventually, the comfort of the bed gave way to the buzz of reality tapping at the edges of their stillness.

Olivia was the first to move, her arm stretching out with a quiet groan before she blinked herself awake.

Her green eyes met Izanʼs, who was already watching her with a smug grin on his face, head propped up on his hand like he had all the time in the world.

”We should probably get up,” she murmured, voice husky with sleep, her cheek still half-pressed into his chest.

”We should. I donʼt want Mikel on my ass,” Izan agreed but made no move to do so.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, suspended in the comfort of knowing they didnʼt have to rush.

Olivia finally rolled away with a reluctant sigh and sat up on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair behind her ear.

”Iʼm going to Kingʼs today,” she said, turning slightly to glance at him.

”Figure itʼs better I get the tour done early. I donʼt really want to waste a full day just lying around here… without you.”

Izan sat up beside her, ruffling his hair as he tried to fight a smile.

”So youʼre saying you only care about the tour if I come along.”

”Iʼm saying you make everything better,” she shot back lightly, standing and stretching.

”Even campus tours.”

Izan watched her make her way toward the bathroom, pulling her overnight shirt down slightly.

”Youʼre not seriously starting the day without me, are you?”

Olivia paused in the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder with a brow raised.

”I mean,” he continued, already slipping out of bed with a grin, ”you canʼt expect me to just sit here while you go in there—”

”Youʼre not sneaking into the shower with me, Izan,” Olivia said, laughing as she closed the bathroom door halfway, just enough to peek her head out.

”Not when we have to leave in an hour.”

”Says who?” he grinned, padding across the floor toward her.

”Says me,” she deadpanned, but her smile betrayed her.

”Fine,” Izan muttered dramatically, pressing his forehead to the closed door.

”But just know this moment will haunt me forever.”

”Youʼll survive,” she laughed from inside, and he could hear the shower start up.

He shook his head with a small smile and turned away, stretching his arms behind his head as he made for the kitchen.

If he couldnʼt join her in the shower, he could at least throw together something quick for breakfast.

The sun had crept higher into the London sky by the time the driver arrived at the apartment complex, the black car gliding smoothly to a stop just outside the buildingʼs entrance.

Izan and Olivia, dressed casually but neatly, walked out hand in hand — fingers intertwined like the link had never broken.

Neither said much as they got into the car, but the silence wasnʼt awkward between them.

Izan sat back against the leather seat, Olivia nestled beside him, her hand still in his.

He gave it a gentle squeeze every now and then, and every time he did, she answered with the faintest smile, the kind that lingered in her eyes.

The car began to move, weaving through the morning bustle of the city.

The driver didnʼt speak unless spoken to, allowing the two teens to sit in their pocket of stillness.

Olivia leaned her head slightly on Izanʼs shoulder, watching the buildings slip by as they crossed bridges and took turns she didnʼt yet recognize — but would, soon enough.

They pulled into Colney a little over thirty minutes later, the familiar training ground coming into view.

The playersʼ cars were already rolling in, and a few staff members were pacing across the lot.

As the car eased to a stop, Olivia finally turned to him.

”Good luck,” she said softly, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand.

Izan nodded, stepping out and pushing the door close — but before he could fully close it, Oliviaʼs hand shot forward and tugged lightly on his shirt before leaning forward, pulling his head gently through the open window.

She kissed him on the cheek, lingering for a beat longer than needed.

”Text me later.”

”I will,” he promised, his lips twitching into a boyish smile.

The car began to roll away as he took a few steps back, watching her through the tinted glass.

She never looked away, eyes locked on him until the car took the bend out of the parking lot.

Then she turned, and the driver took her toward Kingʼs College — her next step.

And Izan, still feeling the warmth of her goodbye, turned toward the Colney entrance, a different kind of calm grounding him now.

....

....

Izan stepped into the Colney complex with a lightness in his step, the kind that didnʼt go unnoticed.

As the automatic doors swooshed open, he greeted the receptionist at the front with a soft ”Good morning,” flashing that same smile that hadnʼt left his face since Olivia kissed him through the window.

”Morning, Izan,” the receptionist chuckled. ”Youʼre beaming today.”

”Am I?” he asked, only half pretending not to know.

He made his way deeper into the training ground, dapping up members of the staff as he passed through.

From one of the physios setting up cones outside to the older groundsman sweeping a bit of dirt near the entrance to the boot room.

Every interaction carried that same relaxed glow.

He was polite and respectful.

The same as always, but there was something different this morning.

ʼSomething in the way he carried himself, easy but purposeful, like the world was just a bit more in place than usual.

Inside the locker room, his training gear had already been laid out for him.

A fresh Arsenal tracksuit — black and red with the club crest stitched cleanly over the chest- rested on the bench.

He pulled it on in quiet rhythm, tying the drawstrings, adjusting the cuffs, and slipping into his fresh white flip-flops before grabbing a bottle of water and heading toward the cafeteria.

Thatʼs where the noise started.

He walked in and was immediately clocked by a few teammates seated at the center table.

Reiss Nelson, Martinelli, Rice, and of course, Saka, who was the first to lean back in his chair with an exaggerated squint.

”Oi oi,” Saka grinned.

”Manʼs walking like he just signed a new deal and bought a yacht.”

Izan tried to keep a straight face as he pulled out a chair and sat, but his grin cracked through anyway.

”Youʼre smiling way too much for someone who got off a ten-hour flight yesterday,” Martinelli added, shoving a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth.

”Must be jet lag,” Izan shrugged, playing it cool, but even Reiss raised an eyebrow.

”Jet lag doesnʼt make you look like that,” Reiss chimed in. ”Youʼve got ʼI just got luckyʼ written all over you, bro.”

Izan coughed into his bottle of water and glanced down at the table, ears a little red but still grinning like someone who couldnʼt argue with the accusations even if he wanted to.

And then came the voice that made the teasing spread like wildfire.

”Whatʼs all this about?” Arteta asked, walking into the cafeteria mid-conversation, arms folded casually, a coffee cup in one hand.

The players all laughed harder as Saka leaned in conspiratorially, nodding toward Izan.

”Boss, you wonʼt believe it. Manʼs been walking like heʼs floating since he got here. Smiling like he just got married.”

Artetaʼs brow arched, and he turned to Izan with a smirk.

”¿Así que fue una buena noche, no?(So it was a good night, right?)” he said in a teasing Spanish lilt.

Izan shook his head, laughing now.

”No fue así, míster(It wasnʼt like that, mister),” he said, attempting to deflect.

Arteta waved a hand playfully.

”Ah, no me mientas. Whatever it was, I want all of you coming in with that energy.”

The room erupted again, even as breakfast continued.

The teasing eventually died down, but the mood was lighter than usual, the kind of camaraderie built not just on banter but on shared rhythms — long flights, grinding sessions, and the rare quiet mornings where life outside football found a way in.

And as Izan bit into a buttered toast and took in the laughter around him, he thought — not for the first time that morning — yeah… I could get used to this.

.....

The players trickled out of the cafeteria, clearing trays and exchanging playful jabs before stepping into the morning sun.

Tracksuits rustled, boots clacked against the pavement, and chatter shifted toward focus as they followed Arteta onto the pristine training pitch.

Balls were already laid out, cones lined the grass, and the air buzzed with anticipation—their first official preparation for the 2024/25 Premier League season had begun.

A new journey was underway.

a/n: Okay guys. This is a new volume and a new challenge for Izan. Thanks for your support as always. You made this novel what it is today, and thank you for that. Love yʼall, and have a fun read