protocol | antoine griezmann ✓

Chapter Thirty.

"Let's just get in there and buy the jersey, okay?" Elena nodded, there was still a smug grin on her face and Alexandra couldn't not roll her eyes at that.

They went into the store and she bought the jersey with his number. I look good in this, I can get used to it. Elena explained her about how the press usually worked in these finals and told her everything she needed to get an 'interview' with Antoine after the game.

No matter how many bad decisions she had ever taken in her life, Alexandra knew this was the right one.

-

The entire world was aware that by the time the game was on, the team who scored would be the one lifting the Euro trophy. Both sides knew it. Antoine knew it. Every single person in the stadium knew it –and into that amount of people present, Alexandra knew it. She was living her own mental crucifixion due to the fact that France didn't score.

Crossbars, failed opportunities and –hell– Rui Patricio having probably the game of his life. Not again, please God, not again, she thought as her hands rested over her lips in a praying way.

It happened too fast, at the eyes of everyone around the world; the unexpected. Éder scored, Portugal had the lead.

A combination of disappointment, anger and sadness ran all over him when the referee blew the final whistle. The Portuguese entered the pitch to celebrate while the French players tried to assume that they lost it, in their own home. Antoine ran a hand through his hair and slowly shook his head; no fucking way.

As he walked to France's side of the benches, some Portuguese players hugged him or patted him in the back, consoling him or something like that. The France staff members glanced at him with sorrow as they told him he did it good in the game and how this wasn't their chance and shit like that; he didn't take it. Antoine took a water bottle from one of the coolers and then sat over the same cooler; he took his boots off and drank from the bottle.

He kicked his boots away and then glared around the stadium. It was at the moment when his eyes scanned the press zone when he saw her and Antoine swore he thought it was a hallucination. She was looking around while she showed the press-pass to one of the security guards.

Antoine immediately rose from the cooler and began to walk towards her. The things she felt when her eyes locked with his were strong enough to make her heart want to burst out of her chest. The press, the stadium, the fans, the loss, everything disappeared in his mind as Alexandra got closer to him.

No fucking way, she came, a tiny smile formed on his lips.

The first thing Alexandra did as soon as they were closer enough to each other was wrap him into a hug. She threw her arms around his neck and she felt how his arms enfolded her waist. He held her tightly and closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair.

Alexandra was the one who pulled away from him. His arms remained wrapped around her waist.

"What–what are you doing here? And how did you manage to get in here?" He blinked a few times.

Her eyes darted from him to the pass hanging around her neck. He glanced at what she was looking and made an expression of understanding. "Antoine I am so–"

He didn't allow her to finish the sentence as he placed his lips on hers. The kiss was full of need even though it was a soft kiss; just like their first one. Alexandra pressed her body to his and tilted her head to one side, deepening the kiss. Antoine kissed her as if he hadn't seen her for a year; it felt like that for him. She tangled her fingers in his hair; damn, she missed him but she didn't know it was that much.