‟ HAPPY BIRTHDAY „

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Tate was trying her hardest to not think about the impending came against Crystal Palace. Instead, she focused on listening for the signal Ted said he would give for her to wheel in the cart with the cake and gifts. 

"Happy birthday, Sam!" Ted called out, letting her know it was time. Grinning, she entered the locker room to cheers from the team. Sam jumped up from his stall with a smile, and as Tate reached where he was standing, she pulled him in for a hug, kissing his cheek as she did so. 

"Sorry I can't stay, boys," Her statement was met with boos that she waved off with a roll of her eyes. "I do actually have a job at this club besides taking care of all of you idiots, you know." 

"Thank you, Tate." Sam's words were genuine, and she could tell just how much this gesture meant to him. She pinched his cheek before handing him the gift she'd picked out with help from some of the other Nigerian players. 

"Alright, good luck!" She shouted as she left, nodding at the thumbs up Ted gave her. 

Halfway up to her seat in the Nelson Road Stadium press box, Tate felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

New Message from Chase Greene:

Tommie finally told me what she texted you. Don't worry about, seriously.

Trapping her bottom lip between her teeth, Tate paused in the stairwell to think through how she wanted to respond. Neither of her siblings were to blame about what happened, but Tommie was too nice, too non-confrontational to acknowledge that Tate moving to an entirely different country, across an ocean, had been an escape.

Message sent to Chase Greene:

I won't. I've been trying to be a goldfish lately. A goldfish that definitely can't take time off to leave England.

And after sending the text she knew her brother wouldn't understand, she slipped her phone into her coat pocket and continued the trek to her seat.

Nelson Road Stadium was alive, Tate grinned, as she settled in her spot. Laptop open before her, she had access to all the graphics she needed to post throughout the game. Part of her job meant tweeting scores as they came in while also rallying for online support of fans. 

But as the team and coaches emerged onto the field and the chants of wanker began echoing through the stadium, she knew she had her work cut out for her. 

The game began, and Tatum felt hesitant hope beat in her heart.

「☺ ☺ ☺ 」

 New Tweet from Richmond FC:

Final score: 1-4 Crystal Palace

「☺ ☺ ☺」

Tate knew the energy in the locker room was going to be absolutely abysmal, and took her time getting there. 

Sure enough, Roy was yelling as she entered. Nate, in attempt to declare his agreement, hit his fist angrily against Ted's office door, which cracked the glass in the window. 

"Fuck, Nate." Tate couldn't stop her amused grin from making an appearance at the look of utter shock on his face. Roy nodded his approval of Nate's actions, then headed into the showers. "Breaking company property isn't a good look."

"S-Sorry..." Nate trailed off, eyes wide as he apologized to Ted. 

"Did that game looks as bad as it felt?" Isaac asked grumpily, practically pouting in his stall. Tate bit her bottom lip, trying to think of the nicest way she could tell him it looked pretty bad. 

"Sammy did great on defense, so I'm going to clip some highlights later." To try and distract the public from their never-ending tweeting of wanker

Tate paused, glancing at Jamie briefly, waiting for him to make his usual comment about how she needed to make sure to post his goal, since it was the one thing that saved from the embarrassment of scoring nil. Yet he didn't say anything, didn't glance up from where he was untying his cleats with a small frown set on his face. 

She shot Sam a look, who just shrugged his shoulders, and decided not to push her luck with Jamie being a dick. 

"Come on, DJ Beard, put on some music! It's a birthday party!" Ted called out, an obvious attempt to remedy the shit mood in the locker room. Beard placed a speaker on the middle platform while Lasso encouraged everyone to get a slice of cake. 

Tate remained standing by the stalls while Sam and the rest of the boys moved forward to eagerly get some sugar. Crossing her arms, frowning, she watched Jamie continue to change out of his kit with a solemn look on his face. 

"Are you alright?" She questioned, her brows knitted together in confusion. The game had been a tough one, sure, but it wasn't like Jamie to pout quietly. Usually, it became everyone else's problem, too. 

"Yeah, 'm fine." Jamie mumbled, still not bothering to look at her. Tate frowned deeper, using the toe of her boot to nudge his shin. Finally, he huffed, looking up at her both expectantly and obviously annoyed. "Can I help you?"

"Something's bugging you, Tartt." Tate rolled her eyes. "You haven't demanded I post your goal on Twitter for your many adoring fans yet." 

"Why do you care?"

She didn't actually have an answer to his question, at least not one that made sense to her, so instead she decided to go on the defensive. 

"It's called having empathy, Jamie, you might want to try it some time." Tate remained firm in her stance, even though she knew it made no sense for to be so worried about why he wasn't being an ass at the moment. Especially with Sam's birthday celebration going on behind her. Still, she couldn't shake the mother hen part of her that wanted to know what was wrong with Jamie. 

But it made no sense. 

"Listen, I'm just one of eleven on the pitch, I can't expect you to post about me all the time." Jamie stood, pulling his shirt off and tossing it in the general direction of Nate's laundry bin. Tate had enough control of herself to not audibly gasp at Jamie's statement, but she was far from able to hide her confusion. 

 "Okay..." Tate mumbled, watching in astonishment as he crossed the locker room towards the showers, towel in hand. He only made it a few steps before pausing and turn back, his regular smug grin on his face. 

"But if I were you, babe, I'd post my goal. I was the only reason Palace didn't beat us nil-four." 

And he's back.

"Glad you can't be kept down forever." Tate rolled her eyes, turning towards the celebration. She found herself at Sam's side, one arm wrapped out his middle while his went over her shoulders

"Happy birthday, Sammy." She mumbled to her best friend, excepting the slice of cake Richard urged into her hands. 

She just wished she wasn't so concerned about what had gotten into Jamie Tartt. 


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