𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟯𝟯
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩
———
A KNOCK ECHOED through Maeve's room, causing her to startle from her musings. Leah sauntered in, an air of familiarity about her as she casually strolled over and made herself at home on Maeve's bed. Maeve shot her friend a quizzical glance, unable to suppress her curiosity.
"How did you—" Maeve began to question, only to be interrupted by Leah's nonchalant response. "I have a room key," she stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the sheets of music scattered across the bed.
"Somebody's feeling inspired," Leah remarked, her eyes scanning the lyrics. "Inspired to write a breakup song," she added with a hint of amusement.
Maeve's patience wore thin as Leah continued to pry into her personal space. "What do you want, Leah?" she snapped, her tone betraying her irritation.
Leah offered her a smile, undeterred by Maeve's brusqueness. "While you've been holed up in here with your music, England has managed to top their group," she informed her friend, her excitement palpable.
Maeve shrugged indifferently, unimpressed by the news. "Okay. Come back to me when they win the entire competition," she retorted dismissively.
Leah gasped, taken aback by Maeve's lack of enthusiasm. "Don't be rude, Maeve! We're going out!" she exclaimed, determined to lift her friend's spirits.
But Maeve remained unmoved, her resolve unshaken. "You can all go out. I'm not. I would rather continue to rot in my hotel room with my music and maybe some room service," she declared stubbornly.
Leah crossed her arms, her expression resolute. "Maeve Jane Mount, you are going to move your stubborn self out of this room, and get ready, because we are going to have a fantastic night," she insisted, her tone brooking no argument.
Maeve didn't bother to protest any further, resigned to the fact that Leah wasn't going to take no for an answer.
Maeve reluctantly got ready despite her lack of enthusiasm for the evening outing. Leah left to prepare herself, promising a swift return. True to her word, Leah reappeared sooner than Maeve would have preferred, dressed to the nines with an infectious smile.
"Ready?" Leah chirped, her excitement palpable.
Maeve shook her head, her reluctance evident. "Let's just go," she conceded, resigned to the inevitable.
The two girls hailed a taxi to take them to the restaurant, the vibrant streets of Doha bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. As they navigated through the bustling city, Maeve couldn't help but inquire about the evening's attendees.
"Who all is going to be here?" she asked, seeking some semblance of preparation.
Leah's smile widened. "Everyone, I think. So be nice," she admonished gently.
Maeve's heart sank at Leah's confirmation. "Is he going to be here?" she queried, her voice tinged with apprehension, referring to Phil, of course.
Leah's response was laced with sarcasm. "If you mean your darling boyfriend that you love so dearly, then yes, Phil will be there," she confirmed, a note of teasing evident in her tone.
Maeve let out a heavy sigh, her frustration mounting as she leaned back against the taxi's seat, dreading the inevitable encounter with Phil.
They arrived at the restaurant, greeted by the sight of an elegant establishment that exuded sophistication and charm. The exterior boasted grand arches adorned with intricate carvings, while soft golden lights illuminated the pathway leading to the entrance. As they stepped inside, Maeve couldn't help but admire the tasteful décor—a blend of contemporary elegance and timeless grace.
The interior was bathed in warm, inviting hues, with plush velvet curtains framing expansive windows that offered glimpses of the city's twinkling lights. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the room, while polished mahogany tables were adorned with crisp white tablecloths and delicate floral centerpieces.
Maeve scanned the room, her gaze alighting upon their group gathered at a long table near the back. Mason spotted his twin and rose to his feet, enveloping her in a warm embrace.
"Congratulations," Maeve murmured sincerely, her pride evident in her voice.
"Thanks, Maeve. Mum rang me today, they're all coming over now for the next round," Mason shared, a hint of excitement in his tone.
Maeve's smile widened at the thought of seeing her family. "It'll be nice to see everyone, but I just know Mum is going to hound you," she chuckled, envisioning her mother's doting attention.
Mason nudged her playfully. "She asked if there was a communal kitchen in the hotel so she can cook me all my meals," he revealed with a laugh.
Maeve joined in his laughter, the sound ringing out joyfully as they made their way toward the table. "And she still tries to deny you're her favorite," she teased, relishing in the camaraderie of their banter.
The table where everyone was seated exuded elegance, adorned with fine linens and sparkling silverware. Each place setting had a handwritten card with the guests' names, adding a personalized touch to the refined atmosphere. Maeve scanned the table, her heart sinking as she spotted her name neatly inscribed on one of the cards. There was no avoiding it—she was meant to be there.
With a resigned sigh, Maeve took her seat beside Phil, feeling a mixture of discomfort and reluctance wash over her. Leah and John were seated on the other end of the mahogany table, engaged in conversation, while Sasha and Jack occupied the seats beside Maeve and Phil. Across from them sat Rebecca, her presence adding an additional layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.
Phil turned to face Maeve, his smile soft but genuine. "Hi, Maevey," he greeted, his voice carrying a hint of sincerity. Maeve knew she couldn't start a scene here, not in front of everyone. Despite the turmoil raging within her, she forced a tight-lipped smile and averted her gaze, unwilling to engage in conversation with him or anyone.
Maeve absently toyed with the card bearing her name, her mind elsewhere as she tried to navigate the awkward conversation unfolding around her. "Are you enjoying it here?" Sasha's attempt to engage her in small talk was met with a nonchalant shrug from Maeve. "The weather's nice, that's about it." she replied, her tone devoid of enthusiasm.
Before Sasha could interject further, Rebecca chimed in with a probing question that sent a ripple of tension through the table. "Have you and Phil not done anything together?"
Maeve felt her cheeks flush slightly as she fumbled for a response, her fingers twisting nervously around her earring. "We have," she finally managed, her words carefully chosen. "But Phil's been pretty wrapped up in football lately, as you'd expect."
"You didn't even go to the match today, did you?"Rebecca's dry laughter grated on Maeve's nerves, and she resisted the urge to shoot back a sharp retort. Instead, she maintained a composed facade, her gaze void of expression fixed on the blonde.
"Some of us have jobs, Rebecca." Maeve replied evenly, her tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I was busy today so I couldn't go."
Sasha interjected, sensing the tension building. "And, it's important to have some time for yourself also, isn't it?" she offered, attempting to diffuse the situation with a diplomatic remark.
Maeve appreciated Sasha's attempt to steer the conversation away from the looming confrontation. She nodded in agreement, grateful for the momentary reprieve from Rebecca's probing inquiries.
Maeve felt the weight of everyone's attention on the tense exchange, sensing their curiosity about the direction of the conversation.
Rebecca's jab provoked Maeve's ire, but she didn't retort yet the blonde continued, "You weren't that busy since you're here now." Maeve scoffed and furrowed her brows, growing increasingly frustrated with Rebecca's pointed remarks.
Rolling her eyes, Maeve brushed off the blonde woman's comment, no longer letting it bother her. Leah shot her a sympathetic look from down the table, and Maeve shook her head in response, silently acknowledging the absurdity of the situation.
But Rebecca's next comment hit a nerve, "Phil wants someone more supportive then you, clearly that's why you two have been arguing lately." it was the last straw. Maeve's patience snapped, and she snapped her head around to glare at Rebecca, her frustration boiling over.
Maeve felt the weight of everyone's eyes on the tense conversation, their curiosity palpable as they watched to see where it would lead. The air around the table grew heavy with tension, each person holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable clash.
Phil, sensing the escalating tension, intervened before Maeve could respond, his voice firm as he addressed Rebecca. "Okay, that's enough, Rebecca," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"How do you know what Phil wants, Rebecca?" Maeve asked the blonde woman. There was no response and the brunette let out a sarcastic laugh
"He broke up with you two years ago because you're a bitch." Maeve didn't stop there, "And you're rude. You're belittling. You are an overall horrible person."
Maeve's words cut through the tension like a knife, leaving a stunned silence in their wake. The other guests around them paused their conversations, glancing over at the confrontation unfolding at the table. Even the waiters seemed to slow their movements, sensing the gravity of the situation.
Rebecca's face fell, her usual confident demeanor crumbling under Maeve's scathing words. For once, she was left speechless, unable to conjure a retort to Maeve's blunt honesty. Phil reached for Maeve's hand, attempting to diffuse the escalating tension, but her anger had reached its peak.
Maeve continued, her voice steady but laced with frustration. "I was always aware that you didn't like me, but I just ignored it. But it's getting unbearable at this point, and honestly, it's embarrassing for you, Rebecca. You're making yourself look desperate for Phil's attention." Her words hung in the air, a final rebuke to the woman who had pushed her too far.
Maeve pushed her seat back, causing Phil to retract his hand, and she stood up abruptly. She walked away from the table, leaving her belongings behind as a silent statement of her departure. Though she couldn't completely leave, she needed space from the tense atmosphere.
Navigating through the crowded restaurant, Maeve made her way to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools. She rested her elbows on the smooth surface, rubbing her hands over her face in frustration. The bartender approached, his expression cautious as he wiped down a glass with a white towel.
"What can I get for you?" he asked, his tone polite but wary. Maeve looked up at him, her eyes tired and her mind swirling with emotions. "Anything. Something strong," she replied curtly, her voice betraying the turmoil within.
The bartender nodded silently, understanding the unspoken request for solace in a glass. He walked off to prepare her drink, leaving Maeve to dwell in her thoughts amidst the bustling activity of the bar. This trip away was turning into a disaster, and she needed a moment to collect herself before facing the turmoil once more.
Maeve's heart raced as a voice called her name, prompting her to whip her head around in anticipation. But the sight that met her eyes shattered her hopes. It wasn't who she thought it would be. It wasn't who she wanted it to be.
"Jacob?" she questioned, her voice betraying her disappointment as the blonde guy approached her. Her gaze darted back to the table where she was supposed to be, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. "What are you doing here?"
"Celebrating. England won today," Jacob replied casually, taking a seat beside her as the bartender placed a mystery drink in front of Maeve. She managed a smile and handed the bartender some money before taking a cautious sip from the straw. The drink was strong, and she coughed slightly in response.
"Are you here alone?" Jacob inquired, his eyes searching hers for an answer. Maeve hesitated, stumbling over her words as she grappled with the truth. She was here at the bar alone, but she wasn't actually alone. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to admit it.
"Ugh, yeah. I'm here alone," she replied, masking the turmoil beneath a veneer of nonchalance. It was easier to lie than to confront the tangled mess of emotions swirling within her.
Jacob ordered his drink and then suggested, "You should join us. A couple of us came out to celebrate." Maeve stuttered as she tried to decline without giving an explanation.
"Maevey?" another familiar voice called out, causing her to sigh and turn slowly. She recognized that Manchester accent all too well. Only one person called her "maevey."
This time, when her eyes met the person, her heart skipped a beat. It was who she wanted. Phil approached the pair and placed a hand on the back of her bar stool. "Who is this?" he asked, his tone betraying his curiosity.
Maeve turned back to Jacob, who, being a massive football fan, looked starstruck as he stared at Phil. "Jacob," Maeve spoke softly as she sat between the two men.
"Why are you talking to him?" Phil asked, his voice low and unimpressed. "She was here alone. I was just keeping her company," Jacob added in, trying to diffuse the tension.
Phil shook his head, "No. She's here with me, her boyfriend. Isn't that right, babe?" he leaned in and placed a kiss on Maeve's cheek, dangerously close to her lips.
Maeve shook her head, realizing all the lies she had told Jacob had caught up to her. Jacob stared at her dumbfounded. "But yesterday you told me you were single? But you're actually dating Phil Foden?"
Phil's hand clenched the back of the bar stool, and his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Yesterday? But you were with Ronnie yesterday," he pointed out. Maeve rubbed her forehead, feeling the weight of the situation, and turned to Jacob, ignoring Phil. "Jacob, it was nice seeing you, but it's probably best you get back to your friends so Phil and I can talk."
The guy ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, grabbed his drink, and left, leaving Phil and Maeve alone. Maeve turned to face Phil, whose expression was a mixture of surprise and anger.
Phil's voice held a mixture of frustration and defiance as he confronted Maeve. "You told him you're single?" His eyes narrowed, searching her face for any sign of remorse or understanding.
"Yeah," Maeve replied nonchalantly, her eyes showing nothing beneath her calm exterior. The dim lights of the bar cast shadows across her features.
Maeve leaned in, her words cutting through the murmurs of the crowded room. "I met him yesterday, and he had no idea who I was, so maybe I told a few lies, but compared to what you've done, it's nothing."
Phil's jaw clenched, his gaze intense as he struggled to find the right words. He looked away for a moment, collecting his thoughts before responding.
"Compared to what I've done? Maeve, you won't even let me explain my side of the story." His voice was tinged with frustration, tingling with an undercurrent of unresolved emotions.
Maeve's resolve stiffened, her posture rigid as she made her decision. "Okay, I am not having this conversation here." She moved to leave, but before she could take another step, Phil's hand closed around her wrist, halting her retreat.
She turned to face him, her expression a mix of defiance and resignation, while he held her close, unwilling to release his grip on her wrist. "I know you hate me right now, but—" His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of pleading.
"You're self-aware. Congratulations," Maeve retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
A heavy silence settled between them, and Phil's grip on her wrist began to loosen, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing.
"Maevey, please. You've tortured me long enough," he implored, his voice laced with desperation and vulnerability.
"Can we please just talk about this, about us?" he pleaded, his words hanging vulnerably in the air.
"If I wanted to speak to you, I would have already. But I don't, so I haven't," Maeve replied, her voice firm but tinged with a hint of sadness.
Maeve pulled her arm away and turned her back on him, intending to walk away, but his voice stopped her in her tracks, causing her to hesitate. "I'm sorry about Rebecca. I don't actually think what she said is true, if that means anything."
"You don't have to apologize for what she says. It isn't your responsibility," Maeve stated firmly, her voice tinged with frustration.
"I know, but I also know that what she says gets to you. And even if you won't talk to me, I don't want to see you upset," Phil responded earnestly, his voice soft and sincere.
Maeve stiffened at his words, her back still turned to Phil. It frustrated her how he seemed to understand her so effortlessly, like he could read her like an open book. It was as if he had a direct line to her thoughts and emotions, and she hated feeling so transparent in his presence.
She shook her head, a mix of irritation and resignation coursing through her. "I'm not having this conversation here with you," she declared, her tone final.
Turning around, she met Phil's gaze, her heart sinking at the sadness she saw in his blue eyes. Despite her resolve to keep her distance, she couldn't ignore the pang of guilt that tugged at her heart.
"Can we talk though, somewhere else?" Phil pleaded softly, his vulnerability laid bare.
Maeve stayed quiet for a moment, grappling with conflicting emotions. Finally, she sighed and relented, "Soon, Phil, I promise."
———
author's note
OKAY!!! PROGRESS 😁😁😁😁
THEY WILL TALK SOOOOOOOOON
and it will be sooner then you think ☺️
let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments and don't forget to vote!!
k bye
word count | 2992