Izan hung up, phone still in hand, and exhaled.
Olivia was grinning like she'd won something. "So… when's our first driving lesson?"
He smirked. "Not in your car."
"I have insurance."
"I don't have nerves."
She shoved him lightly, then tossed a cushion at his face. "You'll be fine."
He leaned back again, the screen now showing pundits arguing over which Pot 1 team Arsenal would want to avoid.
"November will be here before you know it." Miranda's words rang through his head. Well, if it was coming, he had to prepare.
"Max", he muttered.
.......
The next morning, the air around the Colney training complex felt just a little charged.
It wasn't the weather—North London was its usual mild grey—but something in the rhythm of the squad told you there was a buzz.
Izan stepped out of the gym area into the hallway, towel slung over his shoulder, and spotted a small crowd already gathering in the locker area:
Saliba, Saka, Jorginho, and Martinelli were huddled in front of a phone.
