"Well, as long as we're not in a group with Mexico. I don't think Abuelo's heart can take the stress." His beloved El Tri, on one hand, after all, and his grandson on the other. Of course, if both teams did well this year - and it looked like it could go that way - eventually Felipe would need to breathe through that match.

He glanced back at Gael, though, and found himself noticing that he'd...grown a little more into himself. At barely eighteen he'd clearly had a lot on his plate, and a lot of injured pride from that Champion's League final and what must have been a trade in progress at the time. On top of that, Ty had developed a habit of occasionally teasing him not just about his odd British-American accent but about his 'crush' on Carlos. Which might have existed, Carlos thought, but really, did it matter? It wasn't like they all hadn't been there.

"It's been better than I expected," he said. "I had some mixed feelings about it at the time, just because they weren't on my radar." He hadn't had his heart set on anyone, of course, but the English Premier League definitely got the most play of any of the European leagues in the U.S. - so there would have been a certain cachet to Arsenal. His dad had had to google Club Brugges. "But the guys are good, and we work." He smiled a little. "Obviously, I guess."