Harbinger Of Glory

After that, he wheeled the bag inside and set his duffel down beside the door as Vittoria shut the door behind him.

He stretched his back once while he watched Vittoria take off her coat again now that the airport plan had clearly dissolved.

”How have you been?” Leo asked when she turned away from him, setting the coat on the counter.

”Better now that you’re here,” she answered without looking at him.

He came over and put his arms around her from behind, which she leaned back into.

She then turned to face him and kissed him once before she pulled back with a difficult look on her face.

Leo looked at her, his brow furrowing a bit as he asked what was wrong.

At that, she sighed. ”I talked to my mother yesterday.”

”Okay.”

”I think they might already know who you are or at least have some idea who I am with.”

Hearing that, Leo raised his brow further.

”Why do you think that?”

”Because I always told her I was in London. Yesterday she asked how Manchester was.” Vittoria’s eyes held his.

”And it was with that tone she uses when she knows I am lying or something.”

Hearing that, Leo smiled while shaking his head.

”That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She might just know you’re not in London without knowing the rest.”

He reached forward and pinched her nose lightly.

”Why did you tell her London in the first place?”

Vittoria shook her head.

”You don’t know what they could do if they knew where I actually was and who I was with.”

Leo pulled her in properly and held her there.

”Nothing is going to happen,” he said.

”And if the moment comes where we need to be honest, we’ll be honest. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She was quiet against his chest for a moment and then relaxed, the tension leaving her shoulders.

”Okay,” she said quietly.

Leo held her for another second and then said, ”I’m absolutely starving.”

Vittoria smiled a bit as she leaned forward, her worries vanishing as quickly as they came.

”Do you want me to cook?” she asked as Leo shook his head.

”Let’s do it together,” he said.

She smiled, turned toward the kitchen, and he followed, their conversation picking up again as naturally as though the ten days apart had never happened.

...

Like how it mostly went, the Italian sports media in general spent most of the previous evening doing what they always did after good results, which was to find things to talk about other than the good result.

By the following morning, the delayed reaction had finally arrived properly.

On one of the morning shows, a former midfielder sat across from the host with the expression of a man who had been waiting to say something since the final whistle.

”Where is the same coverage they gave when we were losing?” he said.

”Every time Italy dropped a point or played badly there were articles, segments, full panel discussions about what was wrong with the squad, what was wrong with the system, what was wrong with the coach.

We win three-nil at home, and the reaction is just not there. I guess they decided it wasn’t worth focusing on since the national team isn’t being battered.”

The host pushed back gently, and the former midfielder let him, and then continued.

”What I want to talk about is the player. Because I think most people watching that game last night, whether they want to admit it or not, found a new favourite.”

He sat forward slightly.

”Leo Calderon. Eighteen years old. Premier League footballer with Wigan. And he came into that Italian setup last night like he had been part of it for two years, not two weeks.”

Elsewhere, another panel approached it differently.

”I don’t really care that he debuted well,” one analyst said.

The others looked at him.

”I care that he never looked like he was making his debut.”

The replay showed Leo stepping into Mudryk’s shot before immediately organising Italy’s corner defence.

”This kid is nothing to scoff at, but as usual, he won’t get the flowers he deserves since he isn’t a forward.”

The analyst folded his arms as he continued.

”I don’t know what his ceiling is.”

He looked back at the screen.

”But I know this...”

”I’m going to be watching him very closely over the next few weeks. Whatever he does with his club before the next international break is going to tell us a great deal about whether last night was the beginning of something or just a very good debut.”

”My feeling is it’s the beginning of something. But we watch.”

...

Leo woke up in the low light of the early evening, the side of his face slightly marked by his pillow.

He lay still for a moment, working out what time it was as what seemed to be the fatigue from the camp washed over him.

Vittoria was asleep beside him, which told him everything about how tired the afternoon had been for both of them.

He reached over carefully and pulled the duvet up over her properly, tucking it around her shoulder without waking her, and then slipped out of bed and stretched in the middle of the room.

After that, he picked his phone up from the nightstand where he saw a message from Noah, sent about an hour ago.

The reaction in Italy to your game isn’t something to gloss over. Your following has been climbing all day. Call me when you’re up.

Leo typed back a short reply and slipped the phone into his pocket, and then it began ringing before he’d even put his hand back down.

”How are you?” Dawson said right as Leo picked up.

Leo yawned into the phone, making no particular effort to conceal it.

”I’m okay.”

”You sound it. Anyways, are you coming in tomorrow or do you need the time?”

”I’ll come in for recovery,” Leo said. ”I won’t be able to do the main session; I’m still sore everywhere. But I’ll come in.”

”That’s fine,” Dawson said. ”Don’t push it.”

A short silence followed before Dawson came in again.

”Well done,” he said as Leo thanked him before the former wished him a goodnight.

Leo stood in the room for a moment and then heard the sound of the duvet coming up behind him as Vittoria stirred.

He turned and settled back onto the bed beside her.

”How have you slept more than me?” he said, ”and I’m the one coming back from a ten-day camp.”

Vittoria said nothing and pressed her palm flat against his face instead, covering it entirely.

Leo kept talking through it. ”What do you want to eat tonight?”

Vittoria removed her hand.

”Something light,” she said as Leo looked at her.

”I’m something light.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and then she picked up the pillow and put it directly into his face.

”That was so cringe,” she said with a slight sleepy chuckle as Leo pulled the pillow away, laughing.

He then shifted across the bed toward her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into him.

”Let’s sleep for a bit more,” he said. ”Then we go and find dinner.”

Vittoria said nothing at that and coiled further into Leo’s embrace.