Chapter 1: Straff for gult kort
Steam curled in thick, damp tendrils, clinging to the cool white tiles of the shower room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, cheap citrus shampoo, and the raw, electric buzz of victory. Signe Gaupset leaned against a locker, her heart still hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her first cap. A win. The noise of the stadium was a fading roar in her ears, replaced now by the sharper, more intimate sounds of her teammates: laughter, the hiss of showers, zippers on kits bags.
“You alright, rookie?” Lisa Naalsund’s voice was a husky slash through the humid air. She was already stripped to the waist, her skin glistening, the muscles of her torso defined and powerful. The match-winning goal seemed to radiate from her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. We won.”
“I know,” Signe breathed, a grin breaking through her daze. “It’s just… surreal.”
“It’s about to get real,” Ada Hegerberg said, approaching with a towel slung over her shoulder. The captain’s gaze was calm, appraising.