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chapter nine - pjenušac ( ; sparkling wine)

why in the world was i so stupid. why in the world was i behaving like such a brat in front of sasha, while all she wanted to do was to make me feel better. those were just two of the thousand questions that i asked myself when i sat back down on the bench - alone, after sasha had gotten picked up and went home. it was getting so cold by then, i had wrapped my scarf around my shoulders and kind of used it as a blanket.

i almost sighed when i saw the notification of brahim sending me a message. he didn't just send me a message though, he reacted to my story; "hey i know that place!" i remembered posting a boomerang of the soccer field right next to the playground i was hanging out on. actually, i didn't feel like answering. but then another message popped up: "that's where i had my first practise when i was a little kid." i turned around and looked at the head lights that were shining on to the empty field.

"really?", i typed, while my hands were shaking because i was freezing at this point. in madrid you weren't used to the cold.

"r you at practise?"

"no, no. just sitting here haha!"

"but it's the campo la salle, right?"

well i didn't know. so i took a picture on instagram and pinned the location right in the middle of it. and then sent it to brahim. you could tell that the fields head lights were the only lights around, besides that it was pitch black and it was getting foggy.

"what are you doing there? it's late and cold."

i was getting nervous, but then just answered: "just getting some fresh air." (oooh throwback to chapter one)

"made so many good memories there. the scenery is so great. i figure, you live close there?"

if a couple miles down the hill means close then; "yea, pretty much. and it really is stunning here."

then i figured; if this really was the field brahim diaz used to have his football practises, then that's gotta mean he would live close by. i never, ever thought about that. i never even knew where he lived.

"oh cool!" well, typical celebrity. something about him shutting up made me mad. but i was wrong."my grandmother lives right down the street, that's why i went to that place for my practises."

and once again i found myself smiling at the screen of my phone and once again, it was the chat with brahim that was on it. it was crazy to realize that guys like him are "closer" to home than you may think. we continued on talking about sports and how he thought i would be there because i was at a late night practise, but in fact, just like i told him, i didn't do any sort of sports. and i mean, especially not in madrid. i was busy enough.

and just after a couple of minutes after keeping on checking our chat to see if he would finally reply or even start to write, i found my heart ache and almost kind of stop for a second. i switchted off my phone. no way this was happening, no way. by then, i took the scarf off of my shoulders and stood up, walking up and down the same line that i walked up and down the previous night, when i had started to text brahim. the previous night, when i thought i would loose my mind because i was so unbelievably nervous. but NOTHING could compare to the feeling i had the moment i kept on switching my phone on and off to see if brahim actually just wrote that. actually just asked that.

for the 398th time, i switched on my phone and finally, even came as far as unlocking it. i actually made it past the lockscreen which i had stared at for the past 10 minutes.

"so r you still there? cuz i actually been out with my family and we just got home. i am in need of a walk to like fully digest all the weird spanish food and to lower the tinnitus severity that was caused by my aunts talking."

i literally laughed out loud because i couldn't believe it. "i am." it didn't took me a single minute to think about it. this could've been my last night in madrid. this could've been the only chance i would ever get. and i felt like trash. and there was no one close by that i could talk to, other then with somebody on the phone - with brahim. i loved the feeling of excitement but i was getting hella sick. and actually started biting my nails of nervousness.

"well, good. i don't know if anything changed there, but i bet there is still some kind of hut. where the commentators used to sit in, you know? imma be there then. give me like 10 minutes if that's fine."

"sure, that's fine"

i was aware of how dangerous that was. i could've been talking to a fake brahim diaz all this time but this was probably the only chance to find out. i can not put into words how nervous i was and how weird it felt and how much i thought about what to say or what to do or how to greet him - just everything. and it was way too late to tell him that i couldn't or would not like to meet him which would've been an absolout lie anyways. it's not like i never talked to him before but everything seemed so much more surrealer than meeting him at the bar, while being drunk, or a little tipsy at least. THEN! i remembered i still had the cans of sparkling wine. but - i figured to just hide them in my bag, since i would come off as some kind of alcoholic teen.

time was passing so unbelievably fast after i read his last message. i slowly put my stuff together and headed closer towards the pitch, kind of trying to listen to the cars on the street to hear if someone was entering the parking lot. it was so quiet and calming but just that made me think that you could hear the beating of my heart louder than the my footsteps on the grass beneath my feet. because trust me, i never was as nervous as that, ever. not even close.

so there i was, casually slendering towards that weird, small, empty and old glass hut. listening to "intro" by the xx which just seemed perfectly fitting to the atmosphere of that chilly and foggy night, the sparkling stars right above, and that beautiful scenery right next to me. i just enjoyed being able to concentrate on the music - on anything BUT the fact that i would meet up with brahim diaz just now. and just as i took my headphones out of my ears, i heard a car approach.