Che and Collin Schramm hung back after training while the rest of the squad cleared out. Che seemed nervous, but he clearly wanted to ask something.
"Bro talk, or I'm leaving," Collin said, already impatient.
"Okay, okay. I just…" Che hesitated. "I wanted to ask if you could teach me how to defend. I mean—you used to be a winger, right? But now you're solid at left back. So you obviously learned how to do it. And I was hoping you'd teach me."
Collin paused. "No."
"Seriously? Why not?"
"I don't want to," he said bluntly. "Plus, you don't need it."
"How do I not need it?"
"Look, you're good on the ball. Your defending isn't great—but it's good enough for a forward. If you got better at it, they'd probably turn you into a midfielder. And honestly, I'd hate to see you there."
With that, Collin turned and walked off, leaving Che standing there confused and alone.
...
Later that night, Che was on a call with Lana, talking about her debut from the weekend.
"Hey… can I ask you something?" His tone shifted.
"Yeah? What's up?"
"Do you have any tips for defending? I don't want to be the weak link when it comes to defense—especially with Dortmund coming up soon."
"Why not ask one of your teammates? Someone's bound to show you a few tricks."
"I did. He said no. Said they'd move me to midfield if I improved at defending."
"Makes sense. I'd hate to see that too."
"That's exactly what he said!" Che sat up. "Why do you guys keep saying that?"
"It means you're too small. Too much of a baby to play midfield." She teased.
Che rolled his eyes and sighed a little.
Mathilda walked into the room, spotting Lana on the call.
"Is that your brother? Hand it over—I wanna talk to him!" She plopped onto the bed.
"Hold on—my roommate wants to say hi."
"Hey Che! I'm Mathilda—your sister's roommate."
"Hey… nice to meet you."
"She talks about you all the time. Just wanted to say hi."
"Same here. Hopefully it's not all bad things—Lana always roasts me."
"Not at all! She says you're a baller. I even saw one of your goals—she said you're probably better th—"
"Okay! That's enough chatting from you two." Lana snatched the phone, smiling as Mathilda giggled.
"Anyway—about defending. You don't need to overthink it. Just wait for the moment."
"What moment?"
"The right one. Like when the attacker takes a heavy touch or hesitates. That's when you pounce. Defending's just about reading the situation, and striking at the perfect time."
"Oh… okay." Che nodded, then whispered to himself, "The moment."
"You've done it before—you just didn't realize. Pay attention next match. Anyway—I gotta go. Night."
"Thanks… night."
He sat there thinking about it. "The moment."
...
"What were you guys talking about?" Mathilda asked.
"He wants to learn how to defend."
"Why? Isn't he already a genius without it?" Mathilda laughed.
"Exactly. Sometimes he just overdoes it."
"Okay, forget that—let's go out. You still haven't let me celebrate your first senior start!"
"It's not really something worth celebrating."
"Come on, Lana. Let me have this."
They debated for a bit until Mathilda jokingly threw a mini tantrum—which, of course, worked. Lana gave in, smiling, and they headed out.