59

Turns out the place I’ll love is Arsenal. No shit. Freaking Arsenal. And I’m not talking about watching practice like the rest of the fans. As soon as the players headed inside, Aiden guided me to the locker room. I stood there like a gaping idiot as I stared at my favourite players. Alexandre Lacazette. Maitland-Niles. Monreal. Levi King. Freaking Ozil. Then I got out of my stupor and asked to take selfies with as many of them as possible — including Coach Emery. I stare in a stupor at the picture while Aiden and I sit for an early dinner. We’re in the same coffee shop-restaurant as the other time. There’s some indistinct chatter coming from downstairs. It’s quiet at the top level. Only the older gentleman from the other time sits near the window, reading a book, and sipping from his coffee. My fingers flick over my phone. I can’t believe I smiled like a normal human being and didn’t actually lick the guys. Ozil even had an arm over my shoulder. “Uncle will be sooo jealous when I show