𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐲 ★ katie mccabe

1 - coming home

Okay, maybe Maura was a little worried.

But Mapi took a hold of her shoulders, not missing how cramped up Maura seemed, and guided her back into the line of Barcelona players in tan shirts, ready to walk out of the tunnel into Stamford Bridge. Into the place Maura considered her home. Only she was playing with the wrong team.

Nevertheless, the match started, and it started in Barcelona's possession. Maura hadn't dared to look into the crowd, keeping her gaze fixed on the grass beneath her, her fellow players, the ball, or her opponents, and it seemed to work. Whenever she was passed the ball, she knew where to place it, delicate passes flying around the pitch to whomever she thought was in a good position to accept it.

It didn't take more than four minutes for the ball to come back to her on the left wing, almost at the sideline, a position she didn't usually find herself in as a midfielder. Still, she accepted the long ball from Keira, drawing her foot back for it to touch the floor and for her to start her run. She was in a good position, not far from the box but not close to the goal either, with much space left as her ex-teammates had missed her dangerous presence. After driving towards the center, she found the penalty stop, and with a quick glance up, decided to take a shot for it. There were no Barcelona players free to pass to, and so she took the risk, hitting the ball just perfectly to curve it, and make sure it slipped past Ann-Katrin's fingers.

It hit the back of the net in slow-motion, and Maura immediately turned around, ready for Chelsea's kickoff. She wasn't going to celebrate scoring against Chelsea. She hadn't planned to score against them, anyways.

The rest of the match seemed to tickle by, as something seemed to shift in Chelsea's defense. They were on top, intercepting every long ball, not allowing for any breakthroughs of their line, keeping themselves composed and Barcelona goalless. By the time the final whistle went, Maura had been on the bench for roughly twenty minutes, silently accepting the fact that in her first match back, seventy minutes were okay. It would have to be okay.

"Good game", she congratulated Sam as she walked onto the pitch to shake the players' hands and celebrate a bit with her team, though by Alexia's looks, there was nothing to celebrate.

Intending to march onto the next person, Maura was surprised to be jostled back by her left arm, which the Australian striker was still holding onto.

"When do you leave for Spain again?", she asked, raising her eyebrows at Maura. The redhead furrowed her brows.

"Tomorrow morning, why?"

"Decision made, you're going out with us tonight!", Sam cheered, finally letting go of Maura. The Irish shrugged.

"We'll see. I don't think I'll be allowed."

AS FATE had it, however, Alexia seemed to relent at the thought of her teammate's return plus the fact that she was back in the town she had once called her home, and with Sam's bribing of paying for drinks and the firmity of her request, Maura was left with no option but to dust off the one outfit she'd brought with her and call a cab to Tony's, the one bar that was deemed the Chelsea bar.

She had been a regular during her time with Chelsea, celebrating every win, every trophy, every birthday with her teammates and, most often than not, Katie. As Maura walked into the pub, the dim light meeting her and encapsulating her with nostalgia, she couldn't shake off the anxiety in her stomach. The link-up between the two most prestigious teams of London, caused by her and her ex-girlfriend, had made it a regular occurrence for Chelsea and Arsenal players to run into each other. She hoped it wasn't the case today. She hoped Katie had at least a bit of decency.