The windows offered the same sweeping view of the city skyline. It was a beautiful apartment. It was the exact type of real estate a young, highly-paid athlete was supposed to live in.
But as he looked at the bare walls and the clean floors, he felt no regret.
He locked the front door, dropping the keys into an envelope that he slid under the building manager’s door on their way out.
They walked out of the lobby and into the parking. Luc’s black Porsche was parked in its reserved spot, looking out of place in the sterile environment.
He unlocked the car. “Get in. We have to go to Juliette’s place to clear her stuff out.”
Hugo dropped into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt tightly. Luc started the engine. The exhaust roared, sounding loudly in the garage. He shifted into drive and navigated up the ramp, merging onto the busy city streets.
The traffic was much. It was a typical Tuesday morning. Cars honked, delivery trucks blocked intersections, and pedestrians wove recklessly through the crosswalks. Luc kept his foot light on the accelerator, navigating the congestion with patience.
“This is why I want out of this district,” Luc muttered, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as they sat at a red light. “It takes twenty minutes just to drive three blocks. If you want to go to the grocery store, it’s an entire operation.”
“The twin house is located in a low population zone,” Hugo provided, looking out the window at the crowded sidewalks. “The road allows a smooth commute to the Valois training complex. We avoid the this kind of traffic.”
Luc glanced over at the teenager. Hugo was staring at the people walking past the car, his expression rather thoughtful. He didn’t look like he was analyzing the traffic. He looked distracted.
“So,” Luc began, steering the car forward as the light turned green. “Are you going to tell me what’s actually going on, or are we going to pretend you’re just pondering about traffic?”
Hugo stiffened slightly. He did not turn his head away from the window. “I am not pretending.”
“You’ve been quieter than usual since we left the apartment,” Luc pressed, keeping his tone light and conversational. “You’re moving into your own house today. You’re eighteen soon. You’ll be out from under Valérie’s roof. You should be thrilled. But you look like you’re trying to solve something that doesn’t have an answer.”
Hugo remained silent for a long moment. The Porsche idled behind a bus.
“Talia,” Hugo finally said, his voice quiet, barely carrying over the low vibrations of the engine.
Luc smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. The cafe girl.
Luc said. “What about her?”
Hugo shifted in his seat, turning his head slightly to look at the dashboard. The persona he utilized for football dissolved. He was looking more like a teenager navigating unfamiliar territory.
“You know I informed her that I was relocating to a new residence,” Hugo explained. “I told her that the property has a large, shared backyard, a pool, and adequate privacy. She seemed pleased. She asked if she could come see it once I was unpacked.”
“That sounds like a normal think to ask,” Luc encouraged. “You invite her over. You order food. You sit by the pool. It’s a good plan.”
“It is a terrible plan, Luc,” Hugo countered, an edge of panic bleeding into his voice. “If she comes to the house, she will see way too much.”
Luc frowned, hitting the turn signal and taking a right onto a slightly less congested avenue. “What do you mean?”
“What I am,” Hugo said, gesturing vaguely to himself. “When we went to the art gallery, I was just a person. We discussed economics, the cafe, we discussed stress and how we manage it. She knows I play football, obviously, but I don’t think she really comprehended the scale of it. If she comes to the house…the environment screams wealth.”
Hugo ran a hand through his hair, a rare display of frustration.
“She is nice, I like her,” Hugo continued. “She is still in Uni, lives in a dormitory. If she sees the twin house, the disparity between our lives will become the focal point of the interaction. She will realize that my life is SC Valois. It will alter the dynamic. She will look at me differently.”
Luc listened carefully. He didn’t laugh, and he didn’t dismiss the teenager’s concerns. He understood the fear perfectly.
“Hugo, you can’t hide what you do and the scale of the player you’ve become,” Luc said gently. “You are the starting midfielder for a team chasing a league title. You are on television every other matchday. Your face is in the newspapers sometimes. She knows you have money. She knows you have a popular profile.”
“Knowing it is different from standing in a private estate bought by a billionaire owner,” Hugo argued.
“Maybe,” Luc conceded. “But if she actually likes you, the house isn’t going to matter. Look at Juliette and me.”
Hugo looked over.
“Juliette is a medical professional,” Luc explained, navigating a roundabout. “She works brutal hours. When we first started seeing each other, I tried to hide some parts of my life. I didn’t want her to think I was just an arrogant athlete who threw money around, though it was very hard to hide that. But you can’t build a relationship on omissions. She brought me to her apartment, I brought her to my apartment. She saw the ridiculous stuff I had, like that sofa. She saw the absurd lifestyle. And you know what she did?”
Hugo shook his head.
“She told me the sofa was ugly and added that I needed to buy real groceries instead of ordering takeout every night,” Luc laughed. “She anchored me. She didn’t care about the money or the fame. She cared about who I was when the cameras were off. If Talia is the right girl, she won’t care about Valérie or the security cameras. She’s just going to care that it’s your space.”