You'll Never Walk Alone [Completed]

Chapter 7- We're the Pride of Merseyside

After a short day of packing, I flopped down in my living room couch. This week’s game against Aston Villa was an away game, and the team had left mid-afternoon. It had been while since I lay at home with nothing to do, and lonely times made my thoughts stray towards my mother. I decided to give her a ring, just to check up on her adventures in Mexico City.

“Hola, mija, que tal?” Hello, how are you? She greeted me in the soft Spanish I was so terribly fond of.

“Hola Ma, estoy bien, y usted?”Hey mom, I’m ok and you?

“You would not believe what I have been doing!” she exclaimed, the excitement creeping in her voice made her accent much stronger.

“Dios mío, que ha hecho?” Dear Lord, what have you done?

“En este tiempo quiero informarte que tu madre ahora es vice-presidenta de Monumental! Hablo con los oficiales del club y todo!” At this time I would like to inform you that I am now the vice-president of Monumental! I am friendly with all club officials and everything! So now my mother was vice-president of one of America’s biggest supporter groups.

“Wow. In a few weeks and you’re already a hot-shot in America. This means you can get me really good tickets if I ever came to visit?” Leave it to my mother to become one of those super involved fans that manage to sneak on the club’s good side.

“Si es lo que tú quieres. Ya sabes que la Presidenta del club piensa que soy la mejor, haría todo por mí! Bueno, y que pasa contigo?” If that’s you want. I’ll have you know that the club’s President thinks I am the best, she’d do anything for me. But enough about me, what have you been up to?

After a heavy sigh I started to tell my mother everything from work to de Madrid. We have always had a good relationship, and I told her everything. After all, mother does know best. A few seconds passed before she spoke up again, taking her time to say what she wanted

“Este muchacho parece que va a causar muchos problemas, y es capaz de arruinar todo por lo que has trabajado. Te advirtiera que te quedaras lejos de el. You are a professional and this is your career, no un cuento de preparatoria.” This boy seems like he is a trouble-maker, and might go so far as too ruin everything you have worked for. I would advise you to stay away from him. You are a professional, and this is your career, not a high school love story. She spoke the words my sub-conscious had been telling me with a stern voice.

“I know…” I trailed off, deep in thought.

“Well, I leave you, I have to go to a banner-painting session with Monumental! Talk to you later!” she said, before I muttered a good bye and hung up.

As the phone line went dead, I sat up, and started rubbing my temples. This man, David de Madrid, was sure swirling about in my mind quite a bit. It was hard to understand, unless he was secretly bi-polar, how he could go from giving me a kiss and a jersey one day, to completely trying to ignore me. Mind you, it was a ‘Hello’ kiss, and he probably still has not figured out he gave me his debut jersey, but they were acts of kindness nonetheless. What bothered me the most? The fact that my heart still melted at the sight of him. The fact that every single day out in training, he was the one my eyes were fixed upon. I liked the way the sun and our white training kits worked together to show off his tan. I liked the way his whole face shone after he scored a goal in scrimmage. I liked the way that he stopped and signed autographs outside Melwood, flashing every kid an award-winning smile. I liked the way the butterflies in my stomach flutter around when I hear his Spanish-accented voice.

A few weeks and you are already turning into a ball of mush. I laughed to myself, maybe not really a ball of mush. Maybe it was not a crush that I was feeling, fanaticism maybe? That was definitely a possibility. Maybe this was the same way I felt towards Luis Hernandez of America, Nene of P.S.G. or Mueller from Bayern Munich. I had little feelings for them, but not really. I liked how they played, and their respective roles towards the team’s success, which ultimately made them, appealing to me.

Keep telling yourself that… Deep inside I knew that I was lying to myself, but it seemed to help that I had an excuse. I didn’t like de Madrid, I liked what he did for Liverpool.

~*~

“We’re playing Aston Villa, the scores 1-1, when it fell to the head of Robert-son! A liverbird upon my chest!” The song began when in the 65th minute, Liverpool was up 2-1 against Aston Villa, courtesy of another Robertson header.

“Upon my chest!” Anne and I sang as second voices.

“We are the men, of Shankly’s best!”

"Of Shankly's best!"

“A TEAM THAT PLAAYYYS, the Liverpool way!”

“And wins the championships in May!”

I laughed, full of joy as Anne put her arms around me, still swaying to the beat. We had once again come to our favorite pub in all of Merseyside, to watch the game. Red filled the pub, just like every away game, and with Liverpool winning, the Kopites were just jumping off the walls.

“…which brings us to the top of the table!” Anne screamed out, as many others raised their drinks.

“Until those Mancs play tomorrow! With all that money they spent this summer, it won’t be surprising if news comes out that they bought all the refs too!” said Mark, a supporter that I had known since I landed in England.

“Why are you so pessimistic, boy? Almost sounds like you want Manchester to be in first place.” I teased as I took the seat next to him. He gasped and over dramatically put his hand over his mouth.

“How dare you? I am deeply hurt by your comment! Take it back…” he pleaded, his voice a high whine.

“I’ll think about it.” I grabbed a blonde curl from the top of his head and twisted it around my finger. When I was about to run my finger through it, his eyes shone mischievously and he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer.

“How about this…I propose a bet.” He said, his blue-green eyes twinkling.

“A bet?” I asked, keeping one eye on the big telly screen.

“If we stay on top of the table this weekend, I will wash your dishes for a week.”

“And if they don’t?” He had more of my attention now, though I was still looking at my Redmen.

“If the Mancs go top of the table, you will take me out for a dinner date.” He said, flashing me a smile that surely made other girls weak in the knees.

As I weighed my options, one of Aston Villa’s players scored an own goal, bringing us up 3-1 in the 92nd minute of added time, causing yet another eruption in the pub. After the final whistle rang, I weighed my options, while Mark watched me.

With tonight’s win we were in first place, and if my calculations were right, and they were, Manchester United would need to win by a 5 goal margin to top us. They were also playing Arsenal, the chance of a many goal game like that would be slim to none. Arsenal was currently third in the table; it would make the game very tight. I also needed to catch up on my house chores, something I never did like.

“What do you say?” Mark asked, his Scouser accent very prominent.

“Deal.” I said, shaking his hand, and with a little wink, walked away.

Anne and I linked arms as we walked towards my car.

“I totes heard you and little Mark-boy having quite the conversation. Cheating on the chico caliente already?” She asked, her voice a little drowsy from the alcohol.

“Ha. I wish. There is no way Manchester will win like that. Two to zero tops!” I said, trying to keep my balance holding Anne.

“Uhuhmn. It’s not fair, why do you get two men and I’m forever…” she almost instantly fell asleep as her body sat in the car seat.

Two men? I’d be lucky if I even got one.

~**~

Got a little more insight on whats going on in Alex's head now. Anyways Alex Pettyfer as Mark Smith to the right. If you love it, if you hate, please do tell!

Y.N.W.A.