For the Love of Football [Fernando Torres]

05

The bill was paid for, the men boisterous with a couple of drinks in and the girls teetering on their sky high heels. I had not drunk anymore alcohol after my whiskey and drank only water. Patrick knew that if I did go overboard with the drink, I'll become a sad and tired drunk. He however held his alcohol very well, and drank like a true South African. I think the team were in awe as we walked out of the restaurant. He walked in a perfect straight line, while they stumbled around like toddlers.

We jumped into some cabs, Fernando and Ollala sharing with Patrick and I. The whole trip was awkward, with Patrick trying to talk to Fernando and his wife smile's fake and forced. Fernando was trying to speak with him too, but it was just too tense. We were holding hands, so I tugged his arm to stop him from continuing

Fernando shot me a small, grateful smile and I felt Patrick tighten his hand painfully.

We arrived at the club, and the bouncers quickly ushered us to the VIP section. I was getting used to this treatment, and unlike Patrick, it really started to bother me. I didn't like being checked out as property while we walked with the team. The woman gave Patrick flirting flutters of their eye lashes and the men leered at me. I shuddered and drew closer to him. He held me tighter in response, but kept on talking to Fernando.

"Looks like their hitting off with a bromance, eh?" I jumped at the Danish accent near my ear.

Daniel grinned, winking at me. I gave him a glare and he laughed.

"It's true. Don't hate me for telling you." He shouted over the loud music.

I shrugged and sat down, pulling my dress down as it rid up a bit. I wasn't mad at the boys' friendship, just irritated by the loud music and crowd around me,

The rest sat down on the leather couches and some of the wives stood up and went dancing. The girl Daniel had picked up at the club, started kissing him on the neck. Before I could even look at my watch, they said their goodbyes and left. I rolled my eyes at the predictable nature of a playboy. A new song started and Patrick was led by one of the wives to go dance with her. I didn't mind and many wives looked at me weirdly. He may be good-looking but I knew I could trust him.

Patrick walked over to me as a slow song that sounded like a country song started.

"Let's show these Brits how to sokkie." He smirked and I jumped up in excitement.

Everyone stared at us as we started sokkie-ing. Sokkie is a traditional Afrikaner South African dance. It's like waltzing just a lot more fun. Because Patrick was so tall and muscular he could lift and move as fast as I could move. It helped that I've been doing ballet since I was 5.

By the end of the song, we were both exhilarated when a salsa dance started. He laughed at me as I beckoned for him to come dance with me. He came to me when Torres stepped into his place. Olalla had taken Patrick and Torres winked at me playfully.

"You love him?" his voice was like velvet on my skin.

I nodded as our eyes met. His eyes were dark, stormy and there was a sadness I could only notice now, that I was so close to him. The sadness had a depth to it that took my breath away. He smiled at me, noticing my stare and then the song picked up.

He pulled me closer and released me as we spun around. By the end of the song he walked up a set of stairs, pulling me along with him. I followed him, liking the way his hand felt on mine. I turned back to see if Patrick had noticed, but no-one seemed to be looking our way.

I didn't feel uncomfortable following him, a complete stranger, even though I knew logically I should be.

He opened the door that said employees only, at the top of the staircase and winked at me as he walked out. I followed, now curious to where he was leading me. A big part of me was shouting that this was stupid but the smaller part of me won, my sudden trust in him stumping me.

He let go of my hand and walked to edge of the roof we were now on. Torres leaned on the edge of a waist high barrier and my trust faded as the cold air hit my lungs.

I walked over to him, and I looked out over the city as I leaned on the barrier. His arms were on the right side of me and I could feel a tension between us that lifted the hair on my arms. We were particularly close to each other but it felt like we were touching. I swallowed and folded my arms around my waist. He sighed after a few minutes of silence.

"Do you like Ollala?"

His question caught me off-guard.

I nodded, curiosity burning through me. I turned to him, trying to figure out the direction of the conversation. He was staring at the city lights, his face vulnerable. This was totally new to me. I wasn't used to a man being so open with his emotions.

"Why?" I asked him.

He looked at me and suddenly laughed bitterly.

"I'm not sure if you noticed chica, but Ollala hates me."

"That's not true." I answered, not really sure why.

He sighed, shaking his head at me and looked like he was broken. I reached over and squeezed his hand. He looked at me with those dark, sad eyes and I let his hand go and looked away.

"Thank you." He muttered and walked away from the edge of the roof.

"You're welcome.. I think." I answered quietly, looking at him as he walked inside.

I rubbed my neck and rolled my shoulders. I didn't quite expect my night to turn out like this. I turned back to edge of the roof, the lights twinkling merrily.

My first few weeks here have been way too drama filled, much more than I anticipated.