a/n: since this story is set in england, football is another name for soccer.
WE'D LOST THE MATCH and it was my fault. I sighed as I ran a hand down my face. Maybe I should just quit and focus on my school work instead. Maybe that was the better path. I could blame our loss on a number of things, like the rain that poured heavily as we played, the referee's worryingly lack of knowledge about the rules of football, the slippery and muddy pitch thanks to the rain or even the fact that my shoelaces were untied for half the game. Although those factors did contribute to my team's loss, the major one was me. I was the reason we'd lost and I wasn't going to delude myself into thinking otherwise.
"Jensen," a voice said.
I looked up to find O'Connor standing in the doorway of the girls changing room. He'd already changed out of his football kit and was back in his school uniform. I noticed he hadn't bothered to knot his red and black school tie, leaving it to hang loosely around his neck.
"What?" I said.
"Well," he began with a soft sigh, "Finley said you might be sulking because of the match, so I came to see if you were okay...so..." he cleared his throat, "are you okay?"
I pressed my mouth into a fine line for a moment before I replied. "I'm okay."
"Sure you are," he frowned, "look, Kopov's throwing a party over at his house and I think you should come."
"We lost," my eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "why is he throwing a bloody party?"
"To cheer us up!" O'Connor beamed at me as he threw his arms in the air, "Ah, c'mon El! It'll be fun! There's pizza and alcohol and Xbox."
Any other time, I'd never have passed up the opportunity for free pizza and Xbox but I just wasn't in the mood today. I wanted to go home and crawl up in my bed where I could sleep for a hundred years. I wanted to forget today had ever happened.
"Nah," I said, turning to my locker. I pulled out my towel and rubbed it on my face, since I was soaked through from the pounding rain.
In the past two months, I'd been a mixture of stressed, apprehensive and excited for the match today. Mr. Clarke, the coach for our football team, had been working us like dogs as soon as he found out we would be playing against St. Bernadette's for the finals. He was determined to get us into fighting shape, to be the best we could be so that we would come out on top. It looked like all his hard work had gone to waste.
O'Connor gave me look that said he knew exactly what I was thinking. He stepped further into the girls' locker room and said, "El, it wasn't your fault."
"Don't lie to me, O'Connor," I said rolling my eyes. I kept my gaze locked on the spot of dirt on the wall, I couldn't bring myself to look at him for some reason.
"Damn it, Elliot, none of the guys blame you," he said, "the weather is bloody crap for one and you know that referee was an arsehole, I mean, one of the St. Bernadette guys tripped me up three times and the referee did fuck all."
"But, but," I sputtered, turning to face him with wide blue eyes, "I had the penalty shot, and I missed, I bloody missed! How the hell-"
"Nobody gives a damn about the penalty shot, I think you played brilliantly!" he grinned at me, "you scored two goals El. You were absolutely brilliant today!" he chuckled softly, and then scratched the back of his neck and glanced away, "well, you're always brilliant but you get my point."
I let out another sigh. My gaze fell to the floor, "O'Connor, it's just..."
It's just that football had been my life for so long now it had seeped into my blood and I couldn't see myself doing anything else with my time. Today had been my chance to prove to Mr. Clarke that I had what it took to be the team captain but I'd royally fucked that up. If I succeeded I would be the first female captain for our school's official football team and I just know my dad would have been so proud to see another Jensen take the lead.
"Hey," his voice was soft, "do you want a hug?"
I looked up at him. A grin had taken over his features as he stood with his arms wide apart. Before I could say anything, O'Connor rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in a warm hug. I let my eyes flutter shut and buried my head in his chest. I was considerably shorter than him, I only stood at a measly five foot three and he towered over at five foot eleven. I snaked my arms around his waist and pulled him closer, hoping it would make me feel better. I concentrated on the sound of the pouring rain outside. It crashed loudly on the corrugated metal roof. It hammered onto the windows like the relentless drumming of nails.
I had always loved the sound of the beating rain. Always the sound, never did like being in it. I hated the clammy feeling it created, like I was showering fully dressed. I could tolerate it only for so long before I cracked and I became moody. I just didn't like the way it surrounded me, almost suffocating, and leaving me to feel defenceless and exposed to whatever cruelties it had in store. O'Connor smelt nice, then again O'Connor always smelt nice. I couldn't pinpoint the cologne he wore but I bet it was Dolce & Gabbana, he lived for that fragrance. O'Connor rested his chin atop my curly mane of blonde hair and hugged me a little tighter. It was times like this, that I was grateful to have a best friend like him.
"You did great Jensen," he murmured.
"I did, didn't I?" I said, my voice came out muffled since my face was pressed against his chest. I'm not sure how long passed before I pulled away from him and took a couple of steps back. I forced a smile, "I'm fine."
"So," he gave me a hopeful smile, "are you coming to Kopov's party? Please say yes! You know it's going to be good. I guarantee Astra is going to pass out somewhere and get knobs drawn on her face in permanent marker. Oh, come on, El," he nudged my elbow, "do you really wanna miss out on that?"
That did sound amazing. I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling and shook my head. "No," I said, "No, I really can't be arsed."
I guess I wasn't in the mood to get piss drunk and wake up with a horrible hangover the following morning. I'd leave that to him and everyone else on the team.
"But, uh, you have fun," I said.
O'Connor's smile dimmed slightly at that. He shrugged and seemed to reluctantly accept my answer. "Then, I'll give you a lift if you want," he said, "it's proper pissing it outside."
I shook my head once more, "No need, my mum's picking me and Dane up."
"You sure you're going to be okay?" He stepped closer.
I forced another smile and met his deep brown eyes, "I am."
He didn't look convinced but he could tell I wasn't in the mood to talk about it. He nodded and turned to leave the room. "I'll see you Monday then, oh and remember, there's always next season!"
A corner of my mouth tugged upwards, "yeah, yeah, maybe..." I said, "wait, O'Connor!"
He paused just outside the door and glanced back at me, "hm?"
"Have you seen Dane?" I asked.
We had a Psychology essay on OCD due first thing on Monday morning and Dane hadn't started it yet. She'd been worried about it before the match and to calm her down so she could play properly, I told her she could come back to mine after the match and I would help her since I'd already handed mine in.
He frowned, "She didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"Dane's got a dentist appointment in fifteen minutes," he said, "she didn't even get time to change out of her footy kit, she just grabbed her things and went."
"Fuck sake," I said, "all right."
I bet she called me on the weekend and begged me to help her write it.
"She's coming to Kopov's party by the way," he said.
I threw him an annoyed look, "I'm still not going...you better take care of her, make sure she doesn't get too drunk."
At the last post-match party Kopov had thrown, Dane had gone a little overboard with the alcohol and thrown a brick at someone's car. She tended to get volatile when she was drunk. I mean, it was funny to watch but it was only until you were sober that you realised how bad things really were.
O'Connor grinned, "Don't worry, I know how to handle a drunk Dane."
Out of the eleven players on our school's footy team, Dane and I were the only girls. Astra (she didn't like being called by her surname like the everyone else. It was always Astra, Astra, Astra. Never Lavan. Lavan meant a deep scowl would be sent your way) used to be a pretty key player but then she quit at the end of Year Eleven. She was now part of the hockey team but she did still play a casual game of footy with us.
Dane and I (and most of the team) had tried to convince to her come back but she had no interest. Hockey was her true love now. Even though I wish there were more girls on the team, like an even number to match the boys, it wasn't too bad. We'd been on the team so long, it would be weird if someone else just joined. The St. George's footy team was a tight knit little group. I was glad Dane was with me, I would have lost my mind if it had just been me because dealing with the boys.
"I'm serious, O'Connor."
He rolled his eyes, "yeah, yeah...I heard ya, don't let her get too drunk but I'm gonna be pretty plastered myself so I can't make any promises, El."
He threw me a smile and disappeared down the hallway, whistling a soft tune to himself. I glanced at the extensive mirror on the opposite wall and frowned. I was soggy and caked in mud and grass from the match.
"Ew," I grumbled, "I need a shower."
I stripped off my dirty football kit and cleats and shoved them into my duffel bag. I grabbed the towel I'd left on the wooden bench and hopped into one of the many shower cubicles. The warm water came down in a welcomed cascade, it tore away any mud and icy bitterness the rough weather had left. I sighed. It relieved any tension in my muscles.
I soon finished my shower, and wrapping the towel around myself, I opened my locker and started pulling my school uniform back on. I slipped into my converses and taking my coat from the hooks near the door, I shrugged it on. I pulled my rucksack onto my back and grabbed my duffel bag that had my football kit inside as I left the girls' locker room.
The corridors were silent since everybody had already gone home and I was probably the only one left. Just before I stepped through the extensive double doors that led me outside, I pulled the hood of my coat up and over my head.
I glanced up at the late afternoon sky, it was gloomy and coated with leaden clouds that cast an unnatural darkness on the streets. I frowned when I didn't see any sign of my mum in the car park. I waited about five minutes before I called her but she didn't answer. I tried again and again for a good fifteen minutes but each time all I got was her answering machine. I thought about taking up O'Connor's offer to give me a ride home but I didn't spot his car, he must have already gone home. It was hard to see anything properly when the rain was falling so thickly.
I ran out of school and down the street to the nearest bus stop. People with umbrellas dotted the pavement and pedestrians like me dashed for cover from the pelting rain. Thankfully, the bus stop had a roof but unfortunately the bus itself took almost thirty minutes to arrive. If that wasn't annoying enough, I had to stand in front of the bus driver, trying to find my purse as the passengers looked at me like I was an arsehole. When the driver coughed and told me I was taking too long, I gave up and stepped off the bus. It was only when the bus was driving off that I felt a jingle of coins in my inner coat pocket.
The next bus took twenty minutes to arrive and by the time I finally got home, I was more than ready to strangle somebody to death. I kicked the door closed behind me as I took off my coat and threw it onto the hook. I dumped my rucksack on the floor and I was just about to head upstairs when I heard something or rather someone moving around in the kitchen.
It couldn't have been my dad, he was at work all day and I don't think it was my mum because if she was here, she definitely would have answered my calls. It couldn't have been any of my brothers because they had all moved out. It could, however, have been a burglar. It had happened before. A few years back some creep had broken into the house in the middle of the night, he'd tried to steal the television but a good knock on the head from Dad stopped him.
My head whipped round in search of weapon for protection. I settled for the long cricket bat in the small closet under the staircase. I held it with both my hands and crept into the kitchen. Ever so slowly, I nudged the kitchen door open with my left foot. My heart drummed in my chest as I grasped the bat tighter and slipped in through the door.
I expected to find some burly man but instead, there was a dark-haired boy, sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen island. He had headphones over his ears as he typed something up on his phone. I cleared my throat to get his attention and his head snapped up to look at me. There was a long stretch of silence as we stared at each other, the only sound came from the heavy rain cascading outside.
"Who the hell are you?" I managed to say.
The boy pulled the headphones from his head and rested them on his shoulders.
"What?" he said, his voice deeper and a little rougher than I expected.
"Who the hell are you?" I repeated, gripping the bat tighter. He opened his mouth to say something but I interrupted him, "Is that my cake?"
"What?"
"That," I said pointing the bat to the half-eaten ginger cake before him. "Is that my cake?"
"I don't think so, I found it in the fridge," he said, his American accent becoming clear to me, "it's mine, it had-"
"No!" I snapped, "that is my bloody cake you twat! Jesus, what the hell kind of burglar are you?"
"Burglar?" he frowned, "What are you talking about? I'm not a-"
"You break into someone's house and you eat their food that clearly had their name on it!"
"Calm the fuck down," he said. He picked up the cake and took a large bite out of it.
I stomped forward and prodded him in the chest with the bat, stop eating my cake!"
"What?" He said as he took another bite of the cake, "this cake?"
I went to grab the cake but he quickly pulled it away, my eyes widened in horror as it slipped out of his grasp and crashed onto the floor. I gasped at the sight of the cracked plate and splattered cake that lay on the ground. A small whimper left my mouth.
"Oops," he smirked, "butter fingers..."
I growled. I dropped the bat and grabbing him by the collars of his leather jacket, I yanked him towards me so that our faces were mere inches apart. Surprise flickered across his dark eyes for a split second before he gave me a darker glare.
"Listen you bastard," I hissed. "I've had a really, really shitty day and I don't care for dickheads like you. You obviously aren't civilised but here in Manchester, in England, we like to keep shit in order. There's a little something called manners. Now, breaking into someone's house, going through their fridge and eating a cake they've been looking forward to eating all day is not allowed."
He frowns. "Get off me."
"Right after I call the police."
In my periphery, I noticed his hand reaching for the pair of scissors on the counter as his other hand came up to grasp a lock of my hair.
My eyes narrowed, "You wouldn't dare..."
He just smiled.
I watched in horror as he raised the scissor higher and higher until...snip!
I gasped and let go of the boy. I stumbled back a few steps so I could look at the locks of blonde hair that lay pitifully on the floor.
That was it. That was what made me snap. My eyes flitted up from the cut lock of hair and up to him. His eyes were the darkest shade of black. No light, nothing but cold darkness lined by long black eyelashes. He was handsome. I'd give him that. High cheekbones and a killer jaw. I bet he had broken so many girls' hearts with that pretty face.
"You bastard!" I cried.
I rushed forward and leaped at him. He gripped my waist as we both collapsed to the floor with a loud thud and it soon turned into a full-on wrestling match between us.
"Get off me!" he shouted,
"Don't break into my house!" I elbowed him in his ribs and he let out the most satisfying grunt. "Don't eat my cake! Don't cut my fucking hair!"
We grappled and swore at each other until I managed to roll him over and sit on top of him. Blind with rage, my hands wrapped around his neck and I began to squeeze. His hands flew to my wrists as he tried to pull them away.
"You bastard!" I yelled, "I'll kill you-"
"Oh my God!" someone shouted, "Elliot!"
I froze. My grip around the boy's neck loosened as I slowly looked up to find my mum and her friend staring down at me in horror.