Page 238 of Off the Pitch

“Hey now,” Sarah said, interjecting with a voice of reason. “The first half isn’t even over yet. Can we please try to be more positive?”

Everyone mumbled strained noises of agreement. The rest of the first half passed quickly without much incident, but the mood at half-time was strained. Even the analysis team in the studio seemed to be struggling to be buoyant. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a group of people so disappointed in a one-nil game before, but Dani pointed out that it was better to expect a loss, that way you wouldn’t be disappointed. That seemed to be unnecessarily grim to me, but it seemed to fit with the English way of doing things.

The second half started, and both teams set off with renewed attack. England weren’t giving up without a fight, and Spain were determined to give them one. Nothing seemed to come to a head for a while, and then without warning, Christian burst through the Spanish defence like a hurricane and pocketed the ball in the net. It happened so fast nobody seemed to have realised what he’d done. And then a wave of noise swept over the stadium and the living room erupted in cheers. Jordan was bouncing in his seat, screaming at the television in delirious excitement. On the screen, the team piled onto Christian, burying him under a heap of white England shirts.

After that, everything seemed to change. England had been given hope, and they seemed determined to capitalise on it. But Spain weren’t giving up easily, and soon it became a full-on battle of speed and skill, each team looking for the opportunity to score the winner.

Spain came close a couple of times, and Jordan nearly screamed as the English goalkeeper managed to get his fingers on the end of the ball, knocking it out of the way.

“Oh my God, I can’t cope with this,” he muttered. “I’m going to have a heart attack.”

“Me too,” muttered Dani next to him. She was clutching Kat’s hand and chewing her lip nervously. “Do you think it’ll go to extra time?”

“Maybe?” Jordan said. “I don’t know if I can cope with that though.”

The clock ticked down, second by agonising second. With only five minutes left, extra time looked like a certainty, and I was wondering how England would manage that. They were already starting to slow, looking slightly more sluggish than the Spanish team, and that was dangerous. Still, all they had to do was hold on for another five minutes. Then they’d get a break before extra time started, which would give them time to catch their breaths and regroup. All they had to do was hold on.

And then Spain scored.

It was a beautiful piece of football; anyone would admit it. It was just hard to watch.

Their striker, Fernández, who was quite possibly the best player in the world, wove his way through the other players, as if they didn’t exist, in the blink of an eye. Nobody stood a chance.

The Spanish supporters exploded with joy as the goal was confirmed, and two minutes later they roared again when the referee blew the whistle and secured Spain’s place in the semi-finals.

My heart broke watching the England players on the pitch, seeing their anguish and faces wet with tears. They’d come so far and gotten so close, only to have it snatched away at the last minute. But that was football, and that was the agony of the beautiful game.

I was almost glad Jordan wasn’t there. I don’t think I could have watched this from the stands—having to watch his heart break in real time and feeling mine crack in sympathy. How any of the players’ partners watched without destroying themselves, I’d never know.

I turned my gaze to Jordan, wondering what I’d see on his face. His eyes were shining with tears and his arm was wrapped around Mia who’d climbed into his lap. He saw me looking, and a little smile curled his lips.

“I’m so fucking proud of them,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “I just… I’m so proud.” I leant over and pressed a kissed to his temple, putting my arm around him and letting him lean on me. “Hey,” he said quietly, “at least I get to see Liam again now.”

I snorted, and he laughed, the two of us descending into mindless giggles at everything and nothing.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

#reunited #bestfriendsquad

Jordan

It had been over five weeks since I’d seen Liam, and that was far too long for either of us.

We’d never gone this long without seeing each other since we’d met. Even when we’d been away on holidays, that had only been for a couple weeks at a time, and we’d FaceTimed at least once. It drove Ali crazy, but she usually just rolled her eyes and took herself off to the spa, joking that she hadn’t realised Liam had a boyfriend too.

But now he was back from Italy, and I was ridiculously excited to see him again. Not just because I wanted to hang out with him, but also because I needed to pick his brain about something, more specifically, Félix.

Over the past few weeks, something had changed. The nebulous feelings I’d had for him had solidified into something recognisable, and honestly, I was bricking it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I hadn’t meant to fall in love. I’d just wanted to bang the hot, older guy at the bar, not catch feelings. And yet somehow here I was, knee deep in emotions I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with. They were amazing and terrifying all at the same time, and I needed Liam to tell me it was all going to be okay before I freaked out.

He’d been in love for a long time. He’d know what to do.

Even though I already knew what he was going to say:tell him.

There was a knock on the door, and I was relieved to be able to escape my brain for a moment, jumping up to let Liam in.

Liam broke into a smile as soon as I opened the door, pulling me into a tight hug and clapping me on the back. “Hey,” he said, “long time, no see.”

“I know, man. It’s been so weird.”

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