My Football Legends Chat Group-Chapter 90: Quiet Hallways

The adrenaline crash was real.

It hit Rio about forty-five minutes after the final whistle, right as he sat down on the bench in the dressing room.

The noise was still deafening. Jack Grealish was currently standing on the center table, conducting a choir of kit men and physios in a rendition of Wonderwall that was so off-key it was technically a crime against music. Erling Haaland was sitting in his corner, staring at his Community Shield medal like it was a tasty snack he was considering eating.

Rio leaned back against his locker. His legs throbbed. His ribs, where Casemiro had introduced himself, felt like they'd been hit by a sledgehammer.

He looked down at his shirt. The sky blue was stained with grass, mud, and the sticky residue of expensive champagne.

"You look like shit, mate."

Rio cracked a tired smile. Phil Foden sat down next to him, holding a bottle of water.

"Thanks, Phil. You look like a model," Rio retorted, gesturing to Foden's perfectly gelled hair.

"That's the difference between running and gliding," Foden winked. Then his expression softened. "Serious though. That goal? The curl? That was filthy. I actually laughed when it went in. Onana looked like he was trying to catch a ghost."

"I just hit it and hoped," Rio lied.

"Bollocks," Foden snorted. "You aimed for that side netting. I saw your eyes. You're a scary guy, Rio Lance."

"Scary?" Rio raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You play like you're in the park, but you think like you're playing chess. It's a weird combo."

Before Rio could answer, a wet towel slapped him in the face.

"WAKE UP, ARTIST!"

Grealish jumped off the table, landing with a heavy thud. He was shirtless, holding a beer in one hand and his medal in the other.

"We are going out tonight!" Jack roared. "Manchester is ours! We are painting the town blue! Get it? Painting? Because of your celebration?"

"I get it, Jack," Rio laughed, peeling the wet towel off his face. "But I think I'm gonna pass. My family is here."

"Family?" Jack stopped dancing. He looked at Rio with genuine warmth. "Ah, fair play. Go see them. But tomorrow... tomorrow we celebrate properly. I'm taking you to a place that sells gold steaks."

"Gold steaks?"

"Yeah. Tastes like metal, but it looks good on Instagram."

Rio shook his head. "You're an idiot, Jack."

"I'm a winning idiot," Grealish corrected him, chugging his beer. "Now get showered. You smell like Casemiro's armpit."

The Tunnel Reunion

The players' lounge at Wembley was a plush, carpeted area where the chaos of the pitch felt miles away.

Rio walked in, wearing his club tracksuit and fresh trainers. His hair was wet from the shower. He had the medal tucked into his pocket because wearing it felt a bit showy.

He scanned the room. It was full of wives, girlfriends, and kids running around in mini City kits.

Then he saw them.

In the corner, sitting on a leather sofa, looking completely overwhelmed.

His dad, Carlos, was staring at a plate of tiny sandwiches like he was afraid they might bite him. His mom, Maria, was clutching her handbag tightly.

And Leo... Leo was networking with Kyle Walker's agent, aggressively pointing at a tablet.

"Mom? Dad?"

Maria's head snapped up. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"Rio!"

She didn't walk; she ran. She slammed into him, burying her face in his chest. She was small, but her hug was strong enough to crack his remaining ribs.

"Ay, mi hijo," she sobbed. "You were so fast. You were so beautiful."

"I was okay, Mom," Rio smiled, hugging her back. He smelled her perfume—the same one she'd worn for twenty years. It smelled like home.

Carlos stood up. He walked over slowly. He was wearing the City scarf Leo had bought him. He looked at Rio, then at the City crest on Rio's chest.

He didn't say anything. He just grabbed Rio's neck and pulled him into a rough embrace.

"You did it," Carlos whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You silenced them, Rio. When you scored... the whole stadium... they stopped breathing."

Rio pulled back, looking at his dad's teary eyes. "I heard you, Dad. I saw the scarf."

"Of course," Carlos laughed, wiping his eyes. "I waved it so hard I almost hit the man next to me. He was a United fan. He was not happy."

"Good," Rio grinned.

"Rio!" Leo appeared, looking frantic and ecstatic. "Did you see the engagement metrics? The celebration! 'The Artist'! It is trending worldwide! #TheArtist! Nike wants to do a collab! Maybe a paintbrush collection? Or berets?"

"Leo, stop selling me for five minutes," Rio laughed, grabbing his brother in a headlock. "Just enjoy the win."

"I am enjoying!" Leo squeaked. "Winning is profitable! But seriously, hermano... that nutmeg. It was disrespectful. I loved it."

Rio looked at his family. They were out of place here, surrounded by millionaires and supermodels. But they were his.

"I have to go do one more interview," Rio lied smoothly. "You guys grab some food. I'll meet you at the car in twenty minutes."

"Go, go," his mom waved him off. "We are fine. These sandwiches are very small, but they are free."

Rio kissed her cheek and slipped away. He didn't have an interview.

He had a date.

The Quiet Corner

He texted Maya.

Rio: Where are you?

Maya: Section 104. By the exit. I'm the one looking lost.

Rio walked through the concrete bowels of the stadium. The crowds had mostly gone, leaving behind a sea of empty cups and wrappers.

He found Section 104.

She was standing near a railing, looking out at the empty pitch. The floodlights were dimming.

She wore the blue dress she'd mentioned. It was simple, elegant. She had a denim jacket thrown over her shoulders. Her hair was loose.

She looked beautiful. Not "footballer's wife" beautiful with heavy makeup and filler. She looked like art.

Rio stopped ten yards away. He just watched her for a second.

[Passive Skill: The World's Desire]

[Effect: Deactivated. Just Rio.]

"Hey," he called out softly.

Maya turned around. Her face lit up.

"Hey yourself," she smiled. "Mr. Artist."

Rio walked over. He felt nervous. More nervous than when he faced Onana.

"Did you see it?" he asked, leaning against the railing next to her.

"The goal? Yeah, it was okay," she teased, bumping his shoulder with hers. "A bit showy with the curl, wasn't it?"

"I had to make it look good for the Muse," Rio said, finding his confidence.

Maya blushed. Even in the dim light, he could see it.

"The celebration..." she started, looking down at her shoes. "You actually did it. In front of ninety thousand people."

"I promised," Rio shrugged. "I told you. I paint with my feet."

"You're such a dork," she laughed, but her eyes were shining. "But... it was cool. Really cool. My phone blew up. Everyone from college was texting me asking if I knew why you were mime-painting."

"Did you tell them?"

"Nope," she shook her head, looking up at him. "That's our secret."

Rio felt a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the heated seats in his McLaren.

"So," Rio said, reaching into his pocket. "I got something."

He pulled out the medal. It was heavy, silver, with a red ribbon.

"Here."

He placed it around her neck.

Maya's eyes went wide. "Rio! What are you doing? This is... this is your medal. You won this."

"I won it because you were watching," Rio said simply. "Besides, it matches your dress."

Maya touched the cold metal. She looked at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke. She found none.

"You're crazy," she whispered.

"I'm Rio."

She stepped closer. The smell of the stadium faded, replaced by the scent of her vanilla shampoo.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Then, she stood on her tiptoes.

She kissed him.

It wasn't a movie kiss. It was quick, soft, and tasted of peppermint tea.

Rio froze for a second, then his hand found the small of her back.

[System Notification]

[Hidden Stat 'Romance' Level Up!]

[Relationship Status: Official]

[Reward: Permanent Morale Boost]

They pulled apart. Maya was smiling, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Now," she said, adjusting his collar. "Go take your family home. You look exhausted."

"I am," Rio admitted. "But a good kind of exhausted."

"I have to catch my train back to Leeds," she said.

"No train," Rio shook his head. "Leo booked a car for you. A nice one. Not a Batmobile."

"You really are trying to be Prince Charming, aren't you?"

"Is it working?"

"Maybe," she winked. "A little bit."

The Ride Home

An hour later, Rio was in the back of the black Mercedes van with his parents and Leo. They were asleep.

Rio stared out the window as London passed by, disappearing into the dark motorway.

He touched his lips. He could still feel the kiss.

He pulled out his phone. The group chat was buzzing.

[Chat Room Active] 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

The_King: You gave the medal to the girl? Romantic fool.

Rio_7: It felt right, Eric.

The_King: Hmph. Perhaps. A King needs a Queen. Just make sure she doesn't sell it on eBay.

Zizou_5: Ignore him, Rio. It was a classy gesture. Football is just a game. People are what matter.

Total_Football_14: The emotions are settled now. You have the girl. You have the trophy. You have the respect.

But look at the calendar, Rio.

Rio switched apps to the calendar.

Next Match: Friday Night Football.

Opponent: Burnley (Away).

Context: Premier League Debut.