A few days later, a deal was finally confird to the delight of the Wigan fans, but the one that actually got over the line first was neither of them because just two days after Femi Seriki’s transfer interest was announced, another signing ca through, though this ti, it was confird.
"Wigan Athletic are delighted to announce the signing of Mateus Reyes from Real Sociedad on a three-year deal."
The post went up on a Tuesday morning with a picture of him in a blue and white shirt, arms folded, looking at the cara with the particular expression of soone who had been asked to smile for a promotional photograph and had compromised on sothing in the middle.
The reaction was imdiate and split almost perfectly down the middle.
The fans who knew Real Sociedad’s recent seasons recognised the na and were quietly pleased.
A Portuguese-Brazilian creative midfielder who had co through Sporting CP, spent ti at Porto B, and then made his na on loan at Lyon, where he’d been one of the more quietly impressive players in Ligue 1 that season before returning to his parent club.
A twenty-four-year-old maverick who was used to doing things his own way.
And this too was one of the signings that Dawson had had a huge hand in.
It ca as a result of that sa trip he had embarked on to San Sebastien, and the reason why the 1-week trip had almost turned into 3 was because of Reyes.
Dawson had gone on and watched one of the training sessions of the Real Sociedad team, but after that session, he was talking about nobody but Reyes.
He was technically astute and very gifted at seeing a pass, but despite all that he could offer, so Wigan fans felt anything other than pleased.
Soone dug up a clip from his ti at Lyon of him walking off the pitch after being substituted, not aggressively, but with the particular body language of soone who had strong opinions about the decision and wasn’t fully concealing them.
It had been shared around enough tis to have context completely removed from it and had taken on a life of its own.
Soone else found an interview he’d given to a Portuguese outlet where he’d described a previous coach’s tactical system as, and the translation was doing its best, sothing like playing football with your eyes closed, which had gone down about as well as you’d expect.
Dawson, what are you doing, mate
This guy walked out of the stadium when he got subbed at Lyon. We’re in the Premier League, not a playground.
Actually watched him play last season and he’s different class. You lot need to calm down.
The Lyon thing was massively overblown. The coach subbed him in the 60th minute when they were chasing the ga. I’d have walked off, too.
Real Sociedad rate him highly. That’s enough for .
They are saying Dawson went to Spain to watch soone else and ca back with this guy. Either he’s lost the plot, or he saw sothing the rest of us haven’t. Sa sa, let’s just trust the man.
The debate ran for most of the day, and Dawson had seen it.
It was always almost like this until it wasn’t.
Until the sa player they were hating on began playing like sothing else.
All while this went on, Leo read through the fan comnts on his phone while sitting on the floor of his unit with his back against the bed and legs stretched out.
By the ti he’d reached the bottom of the thread, he was shaking his head with a smile on his face.
"Seems like our newest signing is a bit of a character," he said to the room, though nobody was there to hear it.
After that, he put the phone down and swung his feet off the table.
The team was shaping up, and despite his performances to bring the team to the Premier League, it wasn’t going to an he was free from criticism.
One bad ga was all it took to turn you into a villain, and that was sothing Leo was not going to beco.
He picked up the boots next to him afterwards and then made his way out of the room for his last session alone before the team began training together once more!
----
To any other person, a large house in one of the most thriving neighbourhoods in Italy, Forte Dei Marmi, would be a dream, but to Vittoria, who was sitting on the window seat in her room, it was one of the many things that suffocated her.
She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs on the sa seat where she had rested her head on them.
And in her hand was her phone, and on it was the article that had been up since the morning.
L’erede D’Averna e il suo amore nascente.
The D’Averna heiress and her budding romance.
That was the title of the article, and in it were the sa photographs she’d expected or had been told to expect.
After reading the article and watching the photos for most of the day, she had found herself starting to admire them, which felt funny when she caught herself doing so.
After a mont, she closed the article, opened her WhatsApp and tried calling Leo.
It rang.
And rang.
She moved the phone from her ear and looked at the screen to confirm it was still connecting, and then put it back.
The last ring ca through, and nobody had picked up.
She exhaled through her mouth, lowered the phone and looked out the window at the garden.
Then she said quietly to the phone in her hand, "Pickup."
After that, she called a couple more tis, but still nothing.
She set the phone on the cushion beside her and looked at it for a mont.
The thing about Leo, she thought, and it wasn’t the first ti she’d thought it, was that with him, things never felt superficial.
Most of the n or boys she’d encountered in her life had arrived with sothing already decided.
An impression they wanted to make, an outco they were steering toward, a version of her they’d constructed before they’d said a single word to her, and she’d gotten good at recognising it early.
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