blackout - Alexia Putellas

48.

okay. first of all, i predicted that Barcelona would lose the first leg. but hopefully i'm also right about the second leg. but perhaps the coach will learn from this and won't leave his captain on the bench next time.

enjoy ☕️✍🏼

"Wow, isn't the view breathtaking?" marvels a voice from the patio, while Erin expertly pours two glasses of homemade ice tea at the kitchen counter.

"It's absolutely stunning! Now I understand why you chose this place," Martha exclaims as she re-enters the kitchen, closing the patio door behind her and settling onto a bar stool. "I wish Patri's apartment had a balcony like that. Hers is so tiny compared to this."

With a sparkle in her eyes, Martha gestures toward the partially decorated patio owned by the two-time Ballon D'Or winner.

"Well, it could use some sprucing up, but it's pretty solid," Erin chuckles, pushing a glass across the counter, before swirling her own drink with a straw, nudging the orange slice around.

"Solid?" Martha's eyes widen.

"Yeah, solid," Erin confirms, taking a sip of her homemade ice tea, swallowing the fruity liquid from the recipe she'd tried. "It needs a parasol. Unlike you and Ale, I'm not just Swiss cheese, I'm a full-on mozzarella. We might also get a barbecue. Is grilling allowed on balconies in Spain? Oh, and plants. We definitely need more plants out there."

"Haha, speaking of plants," Martha bursts into laughter, taking a sip of her own glass. "I have to admit, the plants really add something to the place."

"I know, right?" the therapist smiles, but her smile quickly fades as she watches her friend reach for the delicate leaves of the only plant on the kitchen island.

"Hands off," the blonde hisses, swatting Martha's hand away. "It's a mimosa. It doesn't like to be touched."

"Sorry, jungle girl," the black-haired apologizes, playfully raising her hands in defense before scanning all the plants in all different types and sizes scattered around the apartment. "So, I'm supposed to water these when you're not around?"

"Yeah, I'm not thrilled about it either," Erin admits, leading her friend around their place. "But you're the best option we have."

"Aw, I'm flattered," Martha mumbles, stirring her homemade ice tea with a straw. "Care to add a shot of vodka so I can enjoy listening to your botany?"

Frowning, the blonde growls, "No hard alcohol in this household."

The Spaniard straightens up, innocently looking into her glass, before coming up with an excellent idea. "Well, you could offer some if you want me to water whenever you and your damn hot girlfriend are out of the country. You're-"

"I'll keep that in mind," Erin chuckles, ushering her friend outside onto the patio, each of them holding their glasses when, suddenly, the therapist's phone starts buzzing.

"Uh, if that's Ale, tell her if she wants me to water your plants, I expect her to-"

"Hey babe," the therapist answers with a roll of her eyes, accepting the call and shutting the patio door to drown out outside noise and Martha's chatter. "Thanks for saving me."

"Oh, what's wrong, Bonita?" the two-time Ballon D'Or winner's voice echoed softly through the line, the tenderness instantly melting Erin's heart.