The white Honda Accord purred softly as it sat parked under the warm amber glow of the street lights.
Outside, the night air was cooling down, but inside the cabin, the heater hummed quietly, creating a cozy bubble.
Callum leaned his head back against the headrest, staring out the windshield at the glass doors of the hotel lobby.
He was still wearing his club tracksuit.
Beside him in the passenger seat, Chloe turned to face him, pulling one leg up onto the leather seat.
She’d been watching him quietly ever since he picked her up, waiting for the post-match adrenaline to settle.
“You look completely wiped,” she said gently, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I am,” Callum admitted, a quiet laugh escaping him as he rubbed a hand over his face.
“Felt like I ran a marathon just trying to track back against their midfield.”
“Well, you didn’t look wiped out there,” Chloe said, her eyes lighting up as she brought up the match.
“Callum, you were insane. The whole stadium was going nuts when you scored. I thought the roof was going to come off.”
Callum smiled, though a faint shadow of frustration flickered across his face.
“Yeah… for about five minutes. Then Mata and Depay decided to remind us who we were playing.” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
“5-2 just feels harsh, you know? We had them. For a good twenty-minute spell in that second half, they were genuinely rattled.”
“Because of you,” Chloe emphasized, leaning forward slightly.
“I saw the defender’s face when you started going inside instead of staying wide. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. And that solo run where you went past three of them? I stopped breathing. If their goalie didn’t pull off that ridiculous save, it would’ve been the best goal ever.”
Callum turned his head to look at her, the warmth in her voice cutting right through the lingering bitterness of the loss.
“Rösler said something similar in the dressing room,” Callum murmured.
“Said we made them sweat blood.” He paused, a small, sheepish grin breaking out.
“Even Van Gaal stopped me on the touchline after the whistle.”
Chloe’s eyes widened.
“Wait, really? What did he say?”
Callum chuckled, mimicking the Dutch manager’s heavy presence.
“Told me I gave his backline problems they hadn’t planned for. Said I had a big future.”
Chloe let out a bright, triumphant laugh, reaching across the center console to rest her hand over his.
“See? Even their manager is out there giving you roses, and you’re sitting here pouting about a couple of late counter-attacks. You told me about the league, and quality difference, so why are you so hard on yourself?”
Her hand was warm against his cold knuckles.
Callum shifted his hand to interlock his fingers with hers, feeling the tension finally drain out of his shoulders.
“I just wanted to win,” he said softly, looking at her.
“I know you did,” she replied quietly, her eyes locking onto his with genuine admiration.
“But as so many people said, you played better than most expected you to. That is all that matters; one day you will be walking over teams like that.”
Callum let out a long breath, a genuine, soft smile finally breaking through his tired features.
Her words anchored him in a way the post-match noise never could.
“One day,” he agreed quietly, squeezing her hand.
Chloe gave his fingers a gentle tug, leaning across the center console with a playful gleam returning to her eyes.
“Now, as much as I love tactical breakdowns in a parked Honda Accord, Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death in this car.”
Callum chuckled, the heavy weight in his chest fully lifting.
“Fair point.”
He killed the engine, the low hum of the Accord fading into the cool night, and unbuckled his seatbelt.
Stepping out of the car, the chilly air hit him; he walked around to open her door and take her hand again.
As Chloe stepped out of the low cabin, the cool night air caught her shoulders, making her shiver slightly before wrapping her jacket tighter around herself.
She stepped close, sliding her hand effortlessly back into his, her touch grounding him after the intense emotional rollercoaster of the evening.
“Thanks for chivalry,” she teased softly, glancing up at him under the bright halo of the hotel entrance lights.
“Though I’m pretty sure your legs are more shot than mine right now.”
“Shot isn’t even doing it justice; I feel like my legs got run over by a truck.” He snickers as the automatic doors slid open, wrapping them in the cozy heat of the hotel lobby.
The sudden warmth felt like heaven against his tight muscles.
“Well, lucky for you, your chauffeur duties are officially over for the night,” Chloe said, pausing near the bank of elevators.
She turned to face him, her eyes softening as she took in the dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes.
“Now it’s just a matter of getting you up to the room before your legs give out completely and I have to drag you down the hallway.”
Callum leaned back against the wall next to the elevator button, pressing it with an elbow and offering a tired, lopsided grin.
“If I collapse, you’re leaving me right here on the carpet. Be honest.”
“Oh, 100%,” Chloe replied without missing a beat, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
“I’ll just tell the front desk a handsome man is blocking the hallway and ask them to sweep you into the lost and found.”
Callum chuckled, the sound deep and relaxed.
The chiming bell announced the arrival of the elevator, the metal doors sliding open to an empty car.
“Charming,” he murmured, stepping in after her and leaning heavily against the mirrored wall.
“I try,” she said softly, stepping close as the doors began to glide shut, sealing away the rest of the world for the night.
The quiet hum of smooth jazz poured out of the speaker overhead, mixing perfectly with their banter.
Chloe leaned back against the handrail, watching the floor numbers light up one by one.
“So, what’s the verdict? Are you going to be able to walk to the breakfast buffet tomorrow, or am I bringing you toast in bed?”
Callum opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden flash of panic hit him.
He reached into his tracksuit pocket and pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up.
“Shit,” Callum muttered, tapping the screen frantically.
“I completely forgot. I need to call my nan.”
Chloe tilted her head, amused.
“Right now? It’s past ten.”
“If I don’t call her and tell her I’m staying out, she’ll have a search party out by eleven and my phone ringing off the hook by midnight,” Callum said, already pressing speed dial and putting the phone to his ear.
The elevator chimed gently, passing the third floor.
On the fourth ring, the line picked up, accompanied by the muffled sound of a television playing in the background.
“Callum? Is that you?” came the sharp, unmistakable voice of his grandmother.
“I was just watching the highlights. You played brilliant, but what on earth was Bamba doing for that fourth goal?!”
Callum caught Chloe’s eye; she was desperately biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud in the quiet elevator.
“Nan, I’m fine,” Callum said quickly, holding back a smile.
“Listen, I just wanted to call and let you know I won’t be back home tonight. I’m staying over at Chloe’s hotel.”
A beat of total silence hung on the line.
“…Right,” his nan said, her tone shifting into full interrogation mode.
“And you’ve eaten properly? You’re not just running on those energy gels?”
“Yes, Nan, I’ve eaten.”
“Good. Because you looked dead on your feet by the eighty-fifth minute. And tell that girl I said hello.”
“She’s right here, Nan.”
“Well, give her my love. Don’t stay up all night. Get some sleep, Callum!”
“I will. Love you, Nan.”
“Love you too, love. Bye now.”
The line went dead.
Callum lowered the phone with a long sigh of relief as the elevator chimed to a stop on Chloe’s floor.
Chloe stepped out onto the plush hallway carpet, looking back at him over her shoulder with a teasing smirk.
“Don’t start,” Callum groaned, stepping out after her with a heavy, exhausted chuckle.
“She sees everything.” Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“It’s cute; she is so caring,” Chloe says as they approach her door.
Her laughter echoed softly down the quiet hotel corridor as she fished her keycard out of her pocket.
“She’s terrifying, is what she is,” Callum said, shaking his head with an affectionate smile as he followed her down the hall.
“If I had lost that game and forgotten to call, I’d be getting an earful tomorrow.”
The lock chimed green, and Chloe pushed the door open, stepping into the softly lit room.
“Well, someone has to keep your head on straight when you’re busy taking on United’s whole defense.”
Callum followed her inside, the heavy door clicking shut behind them and sealing out the rest of the hotel.
He finally kicked off his trainers and unzipped his Leeds track jacket, tossing it over the armchair near the window.
The absolute quiet of the room settled over him, cold air conditioning mingling with the lingering ache in his muscles.
Chloe tossed her keycard onto the desk, watching him roll his shoulders with a tired sigh.
“She’s right, you know,” Chloe said softly, walking over to stand in front of him, resting her hands lightly against his waist.
“You worked yourself into the ground tonight.”
Pulling her flush against him, Callum rested his chin atop her head.
“Worth it,” he murmured into the quiet of the room.
“Even if I can’t walk tomorrow.”
Callum let his arms drop from her body, stepping back with a long, dramatic sigh.
He practically collapsed onto the plush hotel bed, groaning in pure relief as his aching back hit the mattress.
He stretched out completely, closing his eyes as if he intended to never move again.
“If I fall asleep right now, don’t wake me up,” he muttered into the pillow.
“Noted,” Chloe giggled softly.
As Callum lay there, Chloe walked over to the armchair near the window where he had tossed his Leeds United jacket.
She picked it up, feeling how the material felt in her hands, and slid her arms into the sleeves.
The white-and-blue jacket drowned her, the cuffs completely covering her hands and the hem falling well past her hips.
She zipped it up halfway, flipped the collar, and pulled her long hair out from under the neck.
Walking over to the full-length mirror near the desk, she pulled out her phone.
Walking over to the full-length mirror near the desk, she pulled out her phone.
She angled herself carefully, framing the shot to make sure Callum was completely hidden out of the background of the picture, just her, the mirror, and the Leeds crest sitting over her chest.
The soft shutter sound echoed in the quiet room.
Opening Instagram, she uploaded the picture to her story with a quick, cryptic caption: Post-match fitting 🧢⚽
Satisfied, she locked her phone and turned back toward the bed, swimming in the massive jacket.
Callum peeked one eye open, catching her admiring the oversized sleeves.
A lazy, warm smile tugged at his lips.
“You look a bit small for the starting eleven,” he teased, his voice muffled against the pillow.
“Rösler’s going to have words with the kit manager.”
Chloe strutted over to the edge of the bed, popping the collar playfully.
“Excuse you, I rock the oversized look. Besides, it’s officially mine now.”
“If you say so,” Callum conceded with a quiet laugh, burying his face back into the hotel pillow.
Ping.
The sharp chime of a text notification cut through the quiet room, the screen of Callum’s phone lighting up bright against the nightstand.
Chloe tilted her head, glancing over from the edge of the bed as she adjusted the oversized sleeves of the jacket.
“Who on earth is texting you at this hour? It’s almost midnight.”
Callum groaned, blindly reaching out a heavy arm to snag the phone off the table.
He blinked against the glare of the screen, his tired eyes scanning the preview on the lock screen.
The tiredness instantly evaporated, replaced by a sudden spike of intrigue.
“Not Nan,” Callum said, sitting up slightly and leaning back against the headboard.
“Who then?” Chloe asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.
Callum turned the screen toward her so she could read the name across the top.
Jonathan Barnett.
Below the name, the short message read:
“You up? Need to have a quick chat about tomorrow.”
Callum turned the phone so Chloe could see the glowing text on the screen.
Chloe’s eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows shooting up.
“Jonathan Barnett? At this time of night?”
“Give me a minute,” Callum said, the exhaustion suddenly replaced by a sharp pulse of adrenaline.
“Take your time,” Chloe replied, stepping back toward the edge of the bed and pulling the oversized Leeds jacket tighter around herself as she watched him.
Callum cleared his throat, tapped the contact name, and brought the phone up to his ear.
It rang twice before the line connected.
“Callum,” Barnett’s deep, measured voice came through the speaker, crisp and entirely unbothered by the late hour.
“Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, Jonathan, still up,” Callum said, leaning back against the headboard, his eyes flicking briefly over to Chloe, who was watching him intently.
“Just getting back from the stadium.”
“Good. I won’t keep you long, I know you must be shattered after that shift,” Barnett said, getting straight to the point.
“I just finished a couple of calls. I was at the match tonight, Callum. And so were a lot of very important people.”
Callum held his breath for a beat.
“Yeah?”
“Your phone is going to start ringing a lot more over the next few days,” Barnett continued, his tone calm but heavy with authority.
“The performance you put in tonight, against that backline, on national television, it changed things. People in the director’s box were talking. The clubs that were inquiring are circling now; they want your signature for the upcoming window.”
Callum glanced at Chloe, who caught the shift in his expression and leaned forward, hanging on every word she couldn’t hear.
“Get some rest tonight,” Barnett concluded smoothly.
“As per usual, keep your head down. We’ll talk tomorrow morning properly about what comes next. Sound good?”
“Sounds good, Jonathan. Thanks for calling.”
“Good night, Callum.”
The call clicked off, leaving the quiet hotel room ringing with the weight of what had just been said.
Callum lowered the phone, staring at the black screen for a moment before looking up at Chloe.
Chloe set her phone down on the nightstand, her eyes fixed on him, full of sharp curiosity.
“Well?” she asked, crossing her arms over the front of the oversized Leeds jacket.
“You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Callum swallowed, the lingering tiredness completely pushed aside by the reality of Barnett’s words.
He set his phone back on the side table, taking a slow breath.
“He was at the game,” Callum said softly, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet room.
“Said the directors’ box was buzzing after the match. The clubs that were just inquiring, he says they’re circling now. They may want to move for me in the next window.”
Chloe stared at him for a second, the playful banter fading into pure, stunned pride.
A slow, breathtaking smile spread across her face.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Callum started, the realization settling heavily in his chest.
“I’m scheduled to go into Elland Road to sign the new contract extension.”
Chloe paused, her hand still resting over his.
“If I sign that paper tomorrow…” Callum continued softly, staring at the far wall as the reality hit him, “I’m committing my future to Leeds.”
He fell silent for a beat.
Barnett had just told him that top-tier clubs were actively circling, ready to pounce in the upcoming transfer window based on tonight’s breakout performance.
Signing a new long-term deal with Leeds right now would change everything; it would give the club massive leverage, raise his price tag sky-high, or potentially lock him down just as the biggest doors in football were starting to blow wide open. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Chloe watched him carefully, seeing the internal chess match playing out behind his eyes.
“So,” she said quietly, her voice grounding him in the quiet room.
“What is your gut telling you?”
Callum leaned his head back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling as the heavy silence stretched between them.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet, almost a whisper in the soft lighting of the room.
“Part of me wants to just walk into Elland Road tomorrow and sign it. It’s Leeds, Chlo. I grew up in this shirt. It’s everything I’ve worked for.”
He paused, exhaling slowly through his nose.
“But hearing Jonathan say that tonight… after a match like that… I’d be crazy not to at least hear who’s at the door first. If top clubs are actually ready to make a move, I owe it to myself to know what’s out there before I lock myself in.”
Chloe nodded slowly, listening without pushing him one way or the other.
She leaned over, placing a light kiss on his cheek before pulling back with a warm, reassuring smile.
“Then don’t make the decision right now at midnight while your body feels like concrete,” she said softly.
Callum let out a long, weary laugh, the tension in his neck finally loosening.
“Yeah. Fair point.”
He slid down under the crisp, cool hotel sheets, pulling them up over his chest.
He turned his head on the pillow to look at Chloe, who was still wearing his giant Leeds jacket as she settled onto her side of the bed.
“I’ll sleep on it,” Callum murmured, his eyes already growing heavy as the brutal physicality of ninety minutes against Man United finally caught up to him.
“Talk to Jonathan in the morning, see what the board says, and figure it out then.”
“Sounds like a plan, superstar,” Chloe whispered, reaching over to switch off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a quiet, peaceful dark.
“Goodnight, Callum.”
“Night, Chloe.”
Despite it being the very first night they’d ever shared a bed, there was no awkward lingering, no hesitation on the mattress.
Wrapped in the soft hotel sheets, with Chloe curled up comfortably beside him in his oversized jacket, the tension that he felt building in his mind melted away.
Her soft, steady breathing settled into a quiet rhythm beside his, and Callum felt a rare, absolute stillness wash over his body.
Before the weight of tomorrow’s decisions could even begin to creep back into his thoughts, he let go, drifting effortlessly off to sleep beside her.
Morning light filtered softly through the cracks of the heavy curtains, painting warm streaks across the hotel room.
Callum blinked awake, the dull ache in his legs reminding him immediately of the war he’d fought on the pitch the night before.
Then he turned his head.
Chloe was buried deep under the white duvet, her face half-hidden in the pillow, still comfortably wrapped in his jacket.
In the quiet morning stillness, she looked completely peaceful.
A wave of quiet contentment washed over him; waking up next to her instantly surpassed every feeling he’d ever felt.
Leaning over, he pressed a gentle peck onto her cheek.
Chloe let out a tiny, sleepy groan, squirming under the covers and instinctively burying her face deeper into the softness of the pillow to hide from the daylight.
Callum couldn’t help the warm grin that broke across his face.
Careful not to disturb her any further, he quietly slid out of bed.
His tight hamstrings gave a sharp protest the moment his feet hit the cold floor, but he managed a quiet, amused shake of his head as he navigated toward the bathroom.
He turned on the shower, letting the hot water steam up the glass before stepping in.
As the hot jets beat down on his sore shoulders and washed away the little fatigue that remained, he got lost in thought about what was to come.
Stepping out of the steamy bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Callum wiped a hand across his damp face and grabbed his phone off the nightstand.
The screen lit up with a single text notification sitting right at the top, sent just twenty minutes ago.
Dad: “Proud of you last night. Watched every second. Ring me when you’re up, heard from Jonathan about the contract situation and wanted to check in before you head to the ground.”
Callum stared at the message, the dampness of his hair dripping onto his shoulder.
He glanced back over at the bed.
Chloe was still fast asleep, completely swallowed by the duvet and his oversized jacket.
Unlocking his phone, Callum quickly typed out a response.
Callum: “Just got out of the shower. Heading downstairs for a quick coffee in ten. I’ll ring you soon.”
Before putting his phone down, Callum checked his socials.
Opening the Twitter app, he started scrolling through his mentions while drying his hair with a towel.
The matchday high had officially spilled over onto his timeline.
Thousands of tweets, mostly Leeds supporters, but plenty of neutral football accounts too, had tagged him in highlights, match clips, and photos from the game.
One top-trending video showed him effortlessly taking down a high ball and driving straight past United’s backline, accompanied by tweets from fans whose handles he vaguely recognized:
@LUFC_Dave89: “Give him whatever contract he wants @LUFC! Absolute class last night.”
@MarchingOnTogether_Sam: “Callum had their defense in his back pocket for ninety minutes. Unstoppable on that wing.”
@TacticsWithTom: “Kid is destined for the very top. What a performance against a backline like that.”
@EllandRoadFaithful: “Callum is local, he’s one of our own, and he just dismantled a Premier League giant on live TV. GIVE HIM WHATEVER WAGE HE WANTS.”
@MOT_Leeds1919: “Massimo Cellino, I am begging you on my hands and knees: do NOT sell Callum in January. Sign the extension!”
@WhiteRoseScout: “The boy is special. You don’t put in a performance like that against a Van Gaal side unless you’re destined for the top. Absolute magic tonight.”
Among the tags were photos fans had snapped from the stands, freezing him mid-stride under the blinding stadium lights.
Even a few opposition accounts, like @RedDevilRich, were reluctantly giving him credit.
@RedDevilRich: “Fucking Hell, that lad tore us up and made us look like fools, if he had a halfway decent team around him we would be proper screwed.”
@RedDevilRant: “I don’t care if it was a cup tie, watching a teenager same age as my kid turn our defense inside out for 90 minutes made my blood boil. Van Gaal’s system was completely exposed.”
@MufcFanatic_99: “Who actually is this Callum lad? He was tearing past us like we weren’t even there. Honestly, if Woodward isn’t already on the phone trying to hijack him, what are we doing?”
@StretfordEndTalk: “Defensively shambolic from us, but credit where it’s due, that Callum kid played like he owned the pitch.
Zero fear.
A quiet, confident smile touched the corner of his lips.
Seeing the overwhelming support was a welcome boost, a reminder of the massive footprint he was starting to leave on the pitch.
But as the notification count kept ticking upward, so did the reminder of what was at stake today.
He locked the screen, tossed the phone onto the bed next to his wallet, and finished pulling on a clean hoodie.
He lightly shook Chloe’s leg to wake her.
“Hey,” he murmured softly, leaning over the bed as she gave a low, groaning protest.
“I’m heading downstairs for a coffee and to call my dad. You want to sleep a bit longer, or do you want me to bring you something up?”
Chloe blearily peeked one eye open from deep inside the duvet, the massive sleeves of his Leeds jacket completely covering her hands as she rubbed her face.
“Coffee,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Black. Two sugars. And don’t negotiate any career-defining contracts without me.”
Callum chuckled, pressing another brief kiss to her forehead.
“Deal. I’ll be back in fifteen.”
He grabbed his keys off the dresser, slipped out into the quiet hotel corridor, and let the heavy door click shut behind him.
The cool, quiet air of the hallway felt sharp against his skin, a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of the room.
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A/N: I don’t know about anyone else, but seeing people’s reactions to the players in these types of fics always adds a nice touch.