The Last Man I Should Want Eight months ago, Rafael Costa kissed me like he’d been waiting years to do it. The next morning, he told a reporter I meant nothing to him. Now he’s sitting in my locker room, wearing my club’s shirt—and asking for a second chance. We’re supposed to compete for a starting place. Instead, he’s saving me breakfast, falling asleep beside me on away trips, and making it increasingly difficult to remember why I promised to keep my distance. I can handle him being my rival. I’m less prepared for how much I like having him as my boyfriend. Especially when there are cameras everywhere—and neither of us is particularly good at keeping our hands to ourselves.