Love Me Like A Champion

Chapter One: Blocked him on snap

"GOALLLLLL!!!"

The roar that erupted from North Fall University Stadium felt like an earthquake tearing through. It thundered from the stands, rolled across the green pitch, and exploded into the open sky above Manchester.

Red and white confetti burst into the air. Drums pounded. Whistles screamed. The scoreboard blinked once then settled.

UNITED ROYALS 2 - MANCHESTER UNITED 1

The match was over. The crowd went insane. On the sidelines, the Twinkle Cheerleading Club leapt into synchronized motion, pom-poms flashing under the stadium lights. Their leader, Wendy Savage, was already screaming herself hoarse.

"That's my big brother!" Wendy yelled, jumping so hard her blue ponytail whipped wildly behind her. "That's my brother! Did you see that strike?!"

The girls around her laughed and screamed louder, feeding off her excitement.

Wendy was impossible to miss. Nineteen years old, electric blue hair styled into a high ponytail, glitter dusted across her cheeks. She was beautiful in a bold, fearless way. She clutched her pom-poms to her chest, eyes shining.

"He never misses," she said breathlessly. "Never."

On the pitch, Xander Savage stood frozen for half a second after the goal, his chest rising, sweat clinging to his skin, heart still pounding from the sprint that had led to the strike. Then his teammates crashed into him.

"You're the baddest!" one of them shouted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"That curve?" another laughed. "That bloody curve?!"

Xander stumbled back with a small laugh, hands lifting instinctively as if to steady them all. His dark hair was damp, falling messily over his forehead. His jersey clung to his torso, number 9 bold against his back. He didn't look like someone who had just ended a match. He looked calm.

"That was beautiful, mate," the team captain said, gripping his shoulder. "Absolutely amazing."

Xander exhaled slowly. "It was just instinct."

"Just instinct," someone scoffed. "You're unreal, Savage."

Across the pitch, Freya Woods adjusted her camera lens, fingers moving fast but steady. She had been tracking the ball seconds before the final goal, body already angled, breath already held.

"Shkrrt" The camera made its noise.

She caught the strike mid-air, the way Xander's leg swung, the tension in his calf, the very moment his foot met with the ball.

"Shkrrt" She caught the goalkeeper's despair. She caught the crowd erupting behind him, frozen in jubilation. Freya lowered the camera slightly, her lips curving in quiet satisfaction.

"Perfect," she murmured to herself.

She had been on the sidelines the entire match, she was North Fall University's Creative Arts department year 2 student. The Sports Department knew her name, so did most of campus. Freya Woods didn't miss moments, she captured them.

Her short curls framed her face in soft rebellion, bouncing as she moved. She wore ripped black jeans and an oversized hoodie that was accessorized, camera strap slung across her chest. At nineteen, she was doing well for herself.

She lifted the camera again, zooming in on Xander as he turned toward the stands. That was when she caught the handshake.

Xander jogged toward the sideline where Wendy had broken formation, already leaning dangerously over the barrier.

"XANDER!" she screamed.

He laughed and met her halfway. They clasped hands, twisted their wrists, bumped fists, then knocked knuckles twice before pulling apart. That was their signature handshake.

Freya snapped the shot instinctively. Something about the intimacy of it made the image powerful.

"That's his sister?" a voice beside her asked.

Freya glanced sideways.

A fellow photographer, older, nodded toward the cheerleader. "The blue-haired one. You must be new on campus not to know her."

Freya adjusted her focus again. "Yeah. Must be really new. Wendy Savage is famous in her own right."

"Runs that cheer club excellently," the photographer said. "Savage blood, I guess."

Freya hummed, eyes still trained on Xander. On the field, Xander ruffled Wendy's hair before stepping back.

"You did great," Wendy said, eyes bright. "That second goal? Crazy!"

He smiled softly. "You were louder than the crowd."

"Obviously," she said proudly. "I should..."

Behind them, the rest of the stadium surged forward. Students poured closer to the barriers, phones raised, voices overlapping.

"XANDER!"

"SAVAGE!"

"THE PRODIGY!"

"CAMPUS GOD!"

The chants rolled like waves. Xander straightened slightly, shoulders squaring in habit. He lifted a hand in acknowledgment, nodding once to the stands.

Freya caught that too. "Shkrrt"

He wasn't showy. He didn't blow kisses or pound his chest. He simply walked and people reacted. Girls began flooding toward him almost immediately, security barely holding them back.

"Xander, picture please!"

"Just one!"

"I love you!"

He stopped for a few, polite as ever.

"Sure," he said calmly.

"Of course."

"No worries."

Freya watched through her lens as he leaned down slightly so a shorter girl could fit into frame, arm hovering respectfully around her shoulder without touching. Another girl giggled too loudly, pressing closer than necessary.

Xander stepped back gently. "Careful," he said. "You don't want to trip."

His tone was soft. Almost shy.

"He's still the same." Freya muttered under her breath.

The photographer beside her smirked. "Not what you expected?"

She shook her head. "His backhanded smiles."

"Savage's always been like that," he replied. "So arrogant and rude. Well, what can you expect from a rich person that is famous?"

Freya zoomed in as Xander smiled politely at another fan. Her lips curved faintly.

The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers.

"Give it up for your United Royals, and your match-winning striker-XANDER SAVAGE!"

The stadium erupted again. Xander lifted his hand once more, nodding toward the crowd, eyes scanning instinctively until they stopped. For half a second, his gaze landed on Freya. The lens hovered between them. Xander blinked, breaking eye contact first.

Freya exhaled slowly, unaware she'd been holding her breath. She checked the screen. The shot was perfect.

Around them, the celebration continued. Music blasted. Teammates laughed. Wendy danced with her squad. Girls screamed Xander's name until their voices cracked. And Freya Woods lowered her camera, watching the campus god bask in a victory he made look effortless.

***

"You blocked me on all social media and even deleted my number?" Xander pulled Freya to a corner, holding her arm tightly.

Freya shoved him, freeing her arm. "Yes I did. You just noticed today? Tells me I wasn't wrong to have done that."

"Is that what you're saying? And who said I just noticed today? Lol." Xander looked around, laughing painfully. "I've been sending messages thinking maybe something happened to you, just for me to check my snap and I can't find you."

Freya took a step back. "I came to see Wendy." She said, trying to calm her nerves. "Her photos are ready."

"You're the worst talking stage I've ever come across." Xander snapped. "You are everything bad they say you are."

Freya frowned then turned to walk towards the gate. The mansion was big. It was the biggest she'd ever seen, even in movies. It was more like a castle. This was actually her first time nearing the Savage mansion. She was around the neighborhood covering for a child's birthday party.

Xander leaned on the wall, watching her. "Drop the photos with the security and leave." He said, his voice commanding. "I don't want to see you anywhere close to me, don't take me pictures during games. Stay away."

That made Freya laugh for two straight minutes. She turned slowly and looked at him. "I've never been around you. You're not a catch for me, you're not my type."

"Oh darling, your type doesn't exist. You play every boy on campus. You don't take anyone seriously." Xander snapped. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Freya Woods." Freya winked at him then dropped the photo album on his chest, slightly hitting him. She walked away without looking back.

Chapter Two: Grumpy footballer

The evening air at The Savage mansion was calm, but the private football pitch behind the house was anything but.

The sound of a ball hitting the net echoed sharply. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Xander Savage was alone on the pitch, dressed in a black training kit, boots digging into the grass as he practiced relentlessly. Sweat rolled down his temple, his breathing heavy, controlled but his mind was far from calm.

He sprinted forward, struck the ball hard, and watched it slam into the goalpost. He didn't celebrate. He turned, jaw tight, eyes dark. Another ball rolled to his feet, he kicked again. Harder.

"Brooding again?" a voice called out.

Xander didn't turn.

Wendy walked onto the pitch, phone in hand, blue hair tied up casually. She wore an oversized hoodie and trainers, chewing gum as she approached him like this was a normal evening-which it was.

"You're going to break something if you keep doing that," she said lightly. "Relax, bro."

Xander finally stopped, hands on his hips. "What do you want, Wendy?"

She grinned. "Wow. Someone's grumpy."

She held up her phone. "Look."

Xander glanced at the screen. Pictures from the match filled it-him scoring, him celebrating, him shaking hands with Wendy. His face hardened instantly. He walked over, grabbed the phone, scrolled fast, then tossed it onto the grass.

Wendy gasped dramatically. "Excuse you!"

"She blocked me," Xander said flatly.

Wendy blinked, then burst out laughing. "Oh my God," she said between laughs. "Is that what this is about?"

Xander stared at her. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Wendy replied, wiping her eyes. "You're acting like she deleted you from existence."

"She blocked me on Snapchat," he snapped. "No explanation. Nothing, just ghosted."

Wendy bent down, picked up her phone, and dusted it off. "Relax. It's not that deep."

Xander scoffed. "Not that deep?"

"It's Snapchat, Xander. People block each other for breathing wrong or mood wings."

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "We were talking. For two weeks."

"Exactly," Wendy said. "Two weeks. Not two years."

"She laughed at my jokes. She stayed up late with me. She sent voice notes." His voice lowered. "Then she blocked me."

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky."

"Lucky?" he repeated sharply.

"Yes," she said. "Because no one knows she was your talking stage. Imagine if that leaked."

Xander stopped pacing. "Why would it leak?"

Wendy smirked. "Because you're Xander Savage. People breathe and it trends."

He clenched his jaw. "How can she play me like that?"

Wendy shrugged. "Freya plays everyone."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not joking," Wendy said. "That's literally her reputation."

Xander stared at the grass. "Then why talk to me at all?"

"So you just noticed her like two weeks ago?" Wendy softened slightly. "Well, maybe she liked you. Maybe she didn't want to."

"I only noticed her three weeks ago from a photograph she took of me." He laughed bitterly. "But her attitude makes no sense. She approached me herself."

"It does make sense for someone like her."

Xander looked up. "You're still going to be friends with her, aren't you?"

"Obviously," Wendy said easily. "We're not really friends but we talk."

His eyes darkened. "You'll still talk to her even after this?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "She didn't do anything to me."

"She embarrassed me."

"You embarrassed yourself by catching feelings," Wendy shot back.

Silence fell between them. Then Wendy sighed. "Look, bro. She blocks people when things feel real. That's her thing."

Xander's fists clenched. "That doesn't make it okay."

"No," Wendy agreed. "But it makes it her."

She turned to leave. "Try not to break the goalpost."

"Wendy."

She paused. "Yeah?"

"If she talks to you about me..."

"I won't tell you," Wendy finished. "Good night, Savage."

She walked away, leaving him alone under the dim pitch lights. Xander stood still for a long moment, then he ran. He charged toward the ball and kicked it with all the anger in his chest. The ball flew violently into the net, he didn't stop.

***

The next day, Freya Woods sat upright in a quiet waiting area, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her camera bag rested at her feet. Her portfolio was placed carefully beside her. Her heart was racing.

She exhaled slowly, then whispered, "Please."

She had applied for the position of Assistant Photographer and Fashion Stylist at LEGACY, one of the most respected creative companies in the UK.

Fashion. Media. Influence. Everything she loved. The receptionist had told her something unusual earlier. "The CEO wants to see you herself."

That alone had nearly made Freya turn around and run. She glanced down at her hands, then at her portfolio. Inside were her best works-events, portraits, campus shoots, candid moments frozen perfectly.

"You've got this," she murmured.

Suddenly, movement stirred the room. People straightened, whispers spread. The door opened.

"She's here."

Everyone stood instantly. Freya shot up with the rest, her heart slamming. A woman walked in, she was tall, elegant, dressed in a sharp cream suit. Her presence filled the space effortlessly.

The CEO of LEGACY.

She didn't smile. She didn't greet anyone. She walked straight into her office, the door closed behind her.

Freya swallowed hard and sat down slowly.

"She's scary," someone whispered nearby.

"She's brilliant," another replied.

Freya leaned back slightly, trying to calm her breathing. Why would she want to see me personally? She pressed her lips together. Then footsteps echoed again, someone else walked in.

Freya looked up. Her stomach dropped.

Xander Savage walked in. He wore a clean black jacket, hair neat, he wasn't smiling as usual. Their eyes met instantly, his expression hardened, so did hers.

He broke eye contact first and walked past her, straight toward the CEO's office. Freya frowned slightly.

"Why is he here?" She leaned back, thinking.

"Probably an endorsement," she muttered under her breath. "He's a star."

She adjusted her grip on her portfolio, trying not to care. Then whispers started again.

"That's him."

"The football prodigy."

"Isn't he...?"

"Yeah."

Freya tilted her head slightly, listening.

"That's the CEO's son."

Her heart skipped.

"What?"

"I heard it too."

"He's her only son."

Freya's chest tightened. Her gaze snapped to the office door Xander had entered. Her pulse raced.

The CEO's son.

Her fingers curled slowly around her portfolio. Fear crept into her chest.

"What have I walked into?" Her heart pounded harder as she stared at the closed door.

Chapter Three: Crying to mummy

Courtney Savage sat comfortably behind her wide glass desk, one manicured hand resting on a leather folder, the other wrapped around a porcelain cup of tea. Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows of her office, casting a soft glow over the polished wood floors and the framed photographs lining the walls. Fashion campaigns, award ceremonies, moments of power and legacy frozen in time.

She looked nothing like someone approaching forty.

Courtney Savage was slender, elegant, and effortlessly beautiful. Her dark hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, her posture straight without stiffness. Everything about her spoke of control, of a woman who had built an empire and knew exactly how to hold it. Across from her stood her son.

Xander leaned casually against the edge of the desk, hands in his pockets, dressed far more simply than the room demanded. His presence softened the sharp edges of the space, grounding it in something warmer, more human.

Courtney smiled at him, eyes shining. "I still can't believe you're here."

Xander lifted a brow. "I told you I'd come eventually."

"Eventually is not today," she said lightly. "This is the first time you've stepped into LEGACY since I gave birth to you."

He shrugged. "You never needed me here."

"That's not true," Courtney replied, her voice gentle but firm. "I've always wanted you here. I just never pushed."

Xander's lips curved faintly. "I know."

She studied him for a moment, then laughed softly. "And now you decide to visit one week before my fortieth birthday."

He smiled properly this time. "I promised I'd be your driver and personal assistant for the week."

Courtney laughed outright. "My star footballer son reduced to carrying my bags?"

"You love it," he teased. "You know you do."

"I do," she admitted. "I really do."

There was a knock at the door before she could say more.

"Come in," Courtney called.

The door opened, and Watz, her long-time assistant, stepped inside holding a tablet. She was composed, efficient, and always alert.

"Mrs Savage," Watz said, "the photographer, Freya Woods, is outside for her interview."

Xander's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He looked away.

Courtney nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Let her in... in thirty minutes."

Watz blinked once. "Thirty?"

"Yes," Courtney replied calmly. "That will be all."

"Okay," Watz said, already turning toward the door.

As soon as she left, Courtney reached for a slim folder on her desk. The name printed neatly across the top caught her attention.

FREYA WOODS

She opened it, scanning through the pages with growing interest. Her brows lifted slightly as she flipped through printed photographs and credentials.

"Hmm," she murmured.

Xander straightened a little.

Courtney glanced up at him. "By any chance," she said casually, "do you know a Freya Woods?"

Xander met her gaze evenly. "I do."

"Same university," she continued. "North Fall."

"Yes," he said.

"Do you know her personally?" Courtney asked.

"Not personally," Xander replied smoothly. "But she's well known. She's very good."

Courtney paused, watching him carefully. "Good how?"

"She's the best photographer and fashion stylist in the school," he said without hesitation. "Everyone knows her work."

Courtney hummed, thoughtful. "You sound confident."

"I am," Xander said simply. "You should give her a trial."

Courtney considered that, tapping her finger lightly against the desk. "Alright," she said at last. "I'll take note."

Xander nodded. "I'll see you later then. I want to take a look around the company."

Courtney smiled warmly. "Don't take too long."

He leaned down and pecked her cheek, the gesture natural and affectionate. At that exact moment, there was a soft knock.

"Come in," Courtney said.

The door opened, and Freya Woods stepped inside. The room seemed to shift, Xander turned. For a brief second, their eyes met. Then he looked away. He didn't greet or acknowledge her. He walked straight past her and out of the office without a word.

Freya stood frozen for a moment, then lifted her chin and walked in fully, taking a seat opposite Courtney without being asked. Courtney observed her quietly.

***

The interview did not go as Courtney had expected.

Freya sat with her legs crossed, posture relaxed to the point of arrogance. She answered questions quickly, sometimes too quickly, her confidence spilling into impatience. When Courtney asked about teamwork, Freya smirked. When asked about brand image, she interrupted.

"I don't follow rules that limit creativity," Freya said. "I set trends. I don't represent brands, I elevate them."

Courtney watched her steadily. "And how do you handle criticism?"

Freya shrugged. "If it's useful, I take it. If it's not, I ignore it."

There was no humility. No restraint. And beneath it all, nervousness cracked through her voice. She stumbled over words she normally owned, hands twitching in her lap, her breath uneven. By the time the interview ended, Courtney already knew her decision.

"I'm sorry," Courtney said, folding her hands. "LEGACY won't be able to hire you."

Freya's face fell instantly.

"You're talented," Courtney continued calmly, "but you're not fit to represent this company."

Tears filled Freya's eyes despite her effort to hold them back. She nodded once. "Thank you for your time."

She stood quickly and left. The door closed behind her.

Courtney exhaled slowly, then clicked her tongue in frustration. "Sorry, son," she muttered to the empty room. "I tried. Trust me."

***

Freya stumbled into the elevator, tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks. The doors slid open just as someone stepped inside.

Xander looked at her, startled. Her face was red, eyes glassy, shoulders tense. For a moment, something flickered across his expression, then it hardened. The doors closed.

Freya laughed bitterly. "This is your fault."

Xander said nothing.

"You told her horrible things about me," she snapped. "You ruined my interview."

"That's not true," he said quietly.

"Oh please," Freya scoffed. "You couldn't handle being blocked, so you went crying to mummy."

His jaw clenched.

"You're a spoilt, arrogant, ruthless brat," she continued, voice shaking with anger. "You think you can destroy people because you can't take rejection."

Xander stared straight ahead.

"I hope you're happy," she finished.

The elevator stopped. Xander stepped out without a word. The doors closed behind him.