Harbinger Of Glory

The first time she’d seen Leo at the end of the Italy U21 game against Japan, all she felt was curiosity, and she could feel that same energy from him too, with the way he stared at her, but only for a brief moment and hadn’t looked back again.

She’d been so used to the opposite that the absence of it had stayed with her longer than any amount of attention would have.

He hadn’t been rude, hadn’t been performing indifference, hadn’t been doing anything at all except simply existing in the background as Carlo talked with Gianna.

Another thing she noticed as they got closer was the plainness of him.

Not plain in appearance but plain in manner, the sense that what you were seeing was what was there and that there was nothing more.

No careful management of how he came across.

Most people she knew, herself included, if she was being honest, spent a considerable amount of energy on how they came across, but Leo apparently spent none.

And then somewhere between that first glance and the boat party.

The conversations in Manchester and the afternoon in the cafe with the caricatures and the tissue.

And then the kiss at the hotel door, she’d started to feel something she didn’t have a clean word for, which was that there might be more to her life than the one she was currently living.

More than the shoots which she enjoyed and more importantly, more than the obligations, the family name and the weight of being at the centre of something she hadn’t chosen.

She wanted to let Leo know about all this, but a part of her was afraid that he might change if he knew.

Which was partly why she was sitting here with two calls on her screen and a newspaper article about her love life, and nobody picking up the phone.

Before she could drift further into her thoughts, a knock came at the door.

”It’s me, Tori.”

Vittoria’s shoulders dropped half an inch in reaction to hearing exactly the voice you needed to hear without knowing you needed it.

There was only one person who called her that.

”Gianna,” she muttered with a little smile as she got to her feet and made her way towards the door.

-------

Northwest Manchester,

”Still not comfy,” was what Leo said even after wearing the attire for almost half an hour.

The Wigan kit had the particular stiffness of something that had come out of a box that morning, and Leo was standing in it in front of a white backdrop with the expression of someone who was cooperating fully while also thinking about something else entirely.

The preparation for the start of the new season had come with many things, and one of the many things it had come with was the number eight that was currently embalmed on the back of his shirt.

He liked the number twenty-two better if he were to be honest, but this was something Wigan had asked of him.

What they said was that it was a gesture of trust, but Leo knew the part nobody said out loud and that the decision was purely for profitable reasons.

His jersey sales had been steadily climbing after all his advents the past season, and the club wanted nothing more than to capitalise on it.

Leo had accepted it without making too much of it either way.

And at the moment, he’d been at the photoshoot for two hours with another hour left.

So far, he had been doing what was asked of him, moving when directed, holding the ball where they wanted it, and looking where they pointed.

But it was getting more tiring in the past quarter of an hour, which had led to the break he was currently enjoying.

He picked up his phone during a break between setups, and the screen showed two missed calls, from Vittoria, which he couldn’t help but stare at.

It had been close to a week since they’d had any real contact, and so two quick calls from her in succession felt like something more than they should be.

He was already unlocking the screen when the voice of the shoot coordinator came across the room.

”Leo, we’re not done. Can you leave the phone and come back, please? I’ll tell the photographer to finish up quickly.”

Leo looked up at the coordinator, who was gesturing toward the backdrop with a particular pleading body language.

He looked at the phone once more, then he set it on top of his bag, screen down, and went back to where they needed him.

-----

Back at Forte dei Marmi!

”Still won’t call back?” Vittoria said as she leaned against the marbled walls in her bathroom!

She put her phone to her side before pushing off the wall and then coming back to her room, where Gianna was currently stuffing food inside her mouth.

”What?” the latter questioned when she felt Vittoria was looking at her judgmentally.

Vittoria shook her head at Ginna before she walked forward and sat beside her.

”So,” Gianna made out as she swallowed another morsel of her food.

”Who is he?”

Vittoria rolled her eyes at the question, but Gianna smacked her shoulder in the next second.

”Come on, tell me. I told you everything that went on with Carlo and me. I’d say that’s why you were even able to get yourself into something like this, but now you want to hide your juice!”

”But oh my gosh, you looked so dreamy in that photo!”

”It was almost like a movie. God, I can’t handle all this,” Gianna ranted as she took her phone out and stared at the photos of Vittoria and her supposed once more, all while Vittoria stared at her friend with a slight smile forming at the edge of her mouth.

Then she frowned again, which made Gianna go quiet as she started thinking.

”Is it someone we know?” she said, suddenly causing Vittoria’s gaze to snap at her.

”Wait, actually,” Gianna said, surprised that her guess was on point before she started to think.

”Someone we knew, someone we know....Wait, is it Leo?”

At that, Vittoria shot forward and clasped her mouth before she turned and glanced at her door, but it was a bit too late, though Vittoria was oblivious to it.

”Leo, huh?” Vittoria’s mother muttered with a smile before she stepped back from the door of her daughter’s room and then walked away.