Anfield was not alike itself. The supporters were still singing loud and the stands were filled, just like they were when I visited before. Only this time, I wasn't here as Trent's girlfriend, nor was I wearing the red oversized jersey with his name written in big bold letters. Today I was wearing a graphic t-shirt, straight jeans and boots. I had spent time on my hair and it was falling over my shoulders in bouncy curls, my makeup was the usual and the golden hoops in my ears glittered under the spotlights.
As the players made their was onto the field it was two shirt numbers that drew my attention. 66 and 20. One was red, the other was white. Appearance wise they looked a little bit alike. Trent was a bit bulkier, but they had the same curly hair and the same skin tone. Bet Dele is not as nice as Trent tough, no one could treat me the way he did. I don't really know which part, the way he treated me when he loved me or the way he treated me when he stopped.
Trent would sprint down the pitch and give it all of his strength when he would hit the ball, making it fly over to Mo Salah. As much as I tried to drift my eyes away to look at Dele, I would just finally find myself looking at Trent. I remind myself that I am here for Dele, not for Trent. He gave me the tickets, which only one was used. I tried inviting Lina from physics but she said she wouldn't handle the crowd. So here I was, all alone, sitting between die hard fans. At half time, tottenham was leading with 1-0. Trent looked upset as he walked towards the tunnel. He drifted his eyes up at stands behind the tunnel, and as if it was meant to be, his eyes meet mine and he stops in his steps for a few seconds, smiling tiredly at me. He raises his hand and winks and I slowly raise my hand and wave back. His teammates catch up to him and push him forward, taking him out of my sight.
As Dele walks the same way, it is clear that he is looking for someone, in the stands, right where he got the tickets for me. As he sees me he jogs towards me making sure the coach won't see him.
"You came" He says loudly, but quiet enough to make sure not everyone hears.
"I did, goodluck" shy as anything, I sit back on my seat and tuck my jacket around my body, hiding from the looks of the rest.
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The game finishes and the score at half-time remains steady. The stadium gets empty and with their head down the supporter exit. As I'm sitting there, I get reminded of that time. That time where I had stayed after the game, waiting for a call or a text, to later wait even longer outside. To then be disappointed, for I had been forgotten. With that in mind I leave the stadium. Dele had said that he must leave the stadium with the team and make it back to London the same day since they had training the day after. I had replied with a that's okay.
With my phone in my hand i walked through the crowded street, I walked slow because some part of me was waiting for a text. Maybe he would make up for that time today. My phone did vibrate, and with a heavy heart i lifted my phone for my eyes, there was no Trent, there was a Dele.
dele: I promise I will make it to Liverpool as soon as I can to see you again. Thank you for coming, it meant much for me.
me: i will be waiting :)
I felt guilty and anxious, I shouldn't be waiting for a text from Trent. He wasn't going to text me and deep down i knew that.
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WASSSUUUUPPP! hi guys thank you for 8k reads it means a lot<3 school sucks:) It really does. Anyways I wanted to update bc u guys are so sweet to me, some of your comments really make my day, so thank you! also sorry for any grammar or spelling-mistakes, I'm swedish:)