I stand up from my seat as soon as the whistle blows.
I look down to an aching Neymar on the ground and an angry James being confronted by the referee.
Neymar had posession and I saw James coming up right behind him. I saw no issue.
Then he just rams himself into him. Neymar lay flat on the grass as the referee began to call a flustered James over.
A furious Luiz Gustavo was yelling at James and Marcelo was holding him back, an angry look on his face too.
I shift as if I could head down there myself and smack James. Rush up to Neymar.
The grasp I had on the railing tightened as the referee pulled out a yellow card. The crowd booed universally and James was livid. Cuadrado steps in and Falcao too.
They weren't trying to talk to the referee. They were holding James back. Timid James back.
What came next was a red card. A universal curse from the Colombians in the crowd, a cheer from the Brazilians. A squeak from my hands on the railing and as I look at my palms I see my left hand was red but my right was burnt.
Neymar was still on the ground. They brought over the medics to look at him. I was jumping back and forth from my seat to the stairs which were to my left.
He got up and the crowd began to clap. That's when I realized I was holding my breath. He made his way to the bench, still not close enough for access. I had to get to him. I had to get to James too.
There were five minutes left in the second half plus the three minutes so kindly added by the officials. I was about ready to burst.
Brazil got their penalty kick but Ospina trapped the ball between his hands and the game went on. The game went on with Colombia missing one player but they managed. That they did.
The final whistle blew and everyone began to cheer. 1-0. A victory for Colombia finally. I ran out of my seat and down the stairs to the large white halls to get my hands on James.
I wasn't let past for another three minutes. The pass didn't buy me any access this early and I had to argue at the top of my lungs. Pékerman had to come get me after he heard me yelling at the official.
I met his eyes and the only thing he could do was shake his head at me since he was astounded too.
"I have no idea," Pékerman spoke. "You try."
James was standing outside the locker room, fury written all over his face. Pékerman entered the room and left the both of us alone
I grabbed James by his arm and dragged him down the hall; I didn't want anyone listening in, although the echoes would be no help whatsoever.
James doesn't look up at me until I start yelling at him.
"What the fuck was that?!" I exclaim.
"Not a red card," he merely spoke.
"Excuse you?" I ask firmly as I inch closer to him. "I saw you. I saw the look on your face. I saw the way you hurdled yourself at him."
"I didn't mean to have him fall that hard-"
"And you attacked him from behind too! You know about his back! What the hell was that about?!"
"I wasn't thinking, Kat," he raises his voice to defend himself.
"Clearly you fucking weren't!" I yell back.
He stands up straight and stops leaning against the wall, I take a step back.
"You're right," he whispers. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me," I push him.
"Are you done?" He asks me.
I say nothing and push him again, anger building up in me.
I do it repeatedly until he takes both my hands in his. Harshly.
"I'm not doing this, Kat," he says sternly. "Enough."
I rip my hands out of his grasp. I look at him holding back the tears building up because I was livid. Beyond livid.
With one swift motion I leave a mark on his cheek with the back of my hand and I walk down towards the locker rooms again.
Ospina passes by me as he makes his way towards James. He was probably cheering inside he got his happy ending.
I head straight towards the medics room to meet Neymar.
I rush straight on over to the bed he was sitting up in as I entered and I grab at his hand.
"How are you?" I ask concern fully visible in my face and heard in my tone.
He only gives me half a grin and says he's fine.
"Where did he hit you?" I ask turning him halfway around, his back facing me.
"Kat," he says.
"Does this hurt?" I ask as I gently put pressure on a spot on his back.
"Kat," he repeats himself.
"What?" I ask when he meets my eyes.
"I'm fine, relax."
"Are you sure? You couldn't play the rest of the game-"
"Relax," he repeats himself before leaving a kiss on my forehead.
The medic leaves the two of us alone and I move my hands up to his jaw and leave a kiss on his lips.
I wince as I take my hands off him and Neymar takes them in his.
"What happened?" He asks about my burnt right hand.
Another reason I was in tears as James almost crushed my hands in his.
"I was gripping onto a railing," I explain. "I'm fine."
"Tell the medic-"
"I've got a cream at home, I'm good."
We stay silent for a moment. Then Neymar begins to chuckle at my jersey. I haven't taken my sweater off yet but he knows James' name is on the back.
"I just spoke to him," I mumble. "I don't know-"
"He's in love with you," Neymar begins. "That's what."
I squint a bit at his theory and begin to shake my head.
"No," I start. "It's not that-"
"Since day one," Neymar reassures me.
He gets up from the bed and walks towards the door, leaving me behind. He opens the door and turns the light switch off, I'm left standing in the dark.
"You coming?" He asks.