Distracting - Kika Nazareth

Summary: Y/n is at Spanish Camp and gets distracted by a picture of Kika in a bikini

..

Y/n's eyes tracked every movement on the pitch, her eyes following the ball carefully. She watched as Carmona controlled the ball at her feet, analysing the angle of her touch before she sent it accross the pitch to Pina.

This was exactly what she needed to be doing: studying her teammates' playing styles, understanding their patterns, absorbing every tactical detail.

The camp was intense, and today's training session was created to test their adaptability (or something like that, Y/n wasn't sure about the technical terms). Only five players per side on a small pitch, it was a quick five-minute game with rotating squads. . The moment the whistle blew, the waiting players would run onto the field while maintaining the existing scoreline.

"Speed and consistency," the manager had emphasised. "Keep the same game style that your teammates established. No disruption. But we won't tell you what type of tactics they are using, you guys need to watch and analyse it by yourselves."

Y/n was determined to give her absolute best when her turn came. She stood on the sidelines with the other rotating players, going over every pass, every run, every tactical decision. Her concentration was total.

Until Alexia decided to ruin everything.

La Reina had been given the day off from training, and instead of bothering literally anyone else in the world, she had chosen to stay right beside Y/n, which would have been fine–annoying, but fine–if she had just stayed quiet.

But then she held up her phone directly in Y/n's line of sight, completely blocking her view of the pitch.

"What are you–" Y/n started to protest, but the words died in her throat.

On the screen was Kika.

Kika in a bikini.

Kika on what looked like a gorgeous beach somewhere, Y/n would bet Portugal. Her skin was glowing completely in the sunlight. The image seemed to sear itself into Y/n's eyes, as if Y/n turned away from the picture, she would still see Kika in the back of her mind.

"Qué? Ale... what?" Y/n stammered, her brain short-circuiting as she tried to process what she was seeing. She hadn't seen Kika in weeks–Kika had gone to Portugal, to her family's house during international break–and now suddenly here she was on Alexia's phone, looking absolutely stunning and completely distracting.

"Thought I might show you some pictures of Kikinha," Alexia said with faux innocence, as if she hadn't just completely thrown Y/N's focus into the trash.. "She looks cute. Her sister has a bikini brand, doesn't she? I was thinking of buying some for myself."

"What? Wh–why would you show me that? I'm training! This is distracting!" Y/N's voice was filled with frustration, but her eyes involuntarily went back to the phone screen. "And I don't care if you buy a bikini or not, just do it!"

Damn, Kika looked great in red, blue and white. Y/n couldn't see how to take her eyes away. Kika had definitely thrown some sort of witchcraft into the picture. Or maybe it was Alexia. But it didn't matter now.

All that mattered was that Y/n was completely bewitched. There was no other explanation.

"Why? It's just a picture," Alexia shrugged, seeming indifferent to the whole situation. But Y/N could see right through the amused glint in Alexia's eyes.

This was all premeditated.

"It's not just a picture and you know–"

The sharp sound of the whistle cut her off, and before she could finish her sentence, one of the assistant coaches was practically shoving her onto the pitch. Her five minutes were up, and it was her turn to maintain the team's playing style.

Which, of course, she couldn't remember which was. Was it more aggressive? More passive, focusing on defending rather than attacking? Were they planning to shoot from close or from a wide range?

If someone had said Y/N played badly, they were being generous.

She couldn't keep the ball at her feet for more than two seconds. Every pass she attempted seemed to find an opponent instead of a teammate. Her positioning was off, her timing was worse, and in a moment of complete mental absence (she was thinking of Kika, again), she managed to deflect a cross into her own goal. :D

All because she couldn't stop thinking about a girl in a bikini. Not just any girl: Kika.

Kika with her sun-kissed skin and that smile that made Y/N's heart race even through a phone screen.

When the whistle finally ended her own personal torture, Y/N marched off the pitch with an angry expression, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger.

She deliberately knocked into Alexia's shoulder as she passed.

"Don't ever show me a picture of Kika before I enter a pitch," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Unless you want us to lose the Euros."

"She's your teammate..." Alexia called after her, but Y/N was already walking toward the changing rooms, desperate for a cold shower. A frigid one. "You need to get used to seeing her!"

Y/N rolled her eyes. Hard.

She was used to seeing Kika! She saw her practically every day during the season. They trained together, played together. But seeing Kika in her training jersey was completely different from seeing her looking like a goddess on a beach. It made Y/N forget how to function like a normal human being.

As the cold water hit her overheated skin, Y/N made a mental note: next time Alexia offered to show her photos, she was walking away. No matter what.