It's A Game, But Who's Keeping Score?

I groaned as I rolled over to my side, witnessing the drab weather outside my balcony window; a lovely day for practice...not. A pounding at my door signalled that I needed to get my butt out of bed if I wanted a ride to practice.

“I’m coming,” I grumbled, staggering to my walk-in closest to grab my soccer bag and quickly change into my Liverpool track suit. As I passed my full length mirror, I stopped and looked at myself. What did I think I was going to achieve by playing with men, just a bunch of critics telling me to go back to the women’s league. I absentmindedly ran my finger over the 7 that was stitched into the sleeve; I was going to prove them wrong.

“Rebecca!” Xabi shouted from downstairs, “If you don’t come now, we’re leaving without you!”

I quickly sprinted out of my room, barrelling down the stairs; quickly stopping to grab a protein shake and a banana and then I continued my sprint to the garage where Pepe and Xabi were already sitting, looking smug.

“You didn’t sleep well last night, princess?” Pepe said with a laugh.

Pepe and the rest of the team thought it would be funny to give me the nickname of “Princess,” because everywhere we went I was the first to be recognized (which was a huge surprise) and every venue we went to, I was treated like royalty, hence the nickname princess.

“If I’m a princess, does that make you my butler? Seeing as you drive me everywhere?” I snapped back.

“Ha-ha-ha, you’re a riot. You know I don’t have to drive you everywhere; I do it on my own free will. Anyways, what’s gotten you into a rotten mood?”

“Everything,” I muttered, looking out the window to see the rain misting down. “The weather right now.”

Xabi and Pepe laughed, “The weather is an extreme reality check compared to Spain, but you’ll get used to it.”

I nodded meagrely and went back to tracing the raindrops that made their way down the window. There was something else on my mind, but that wasn’t something to discuss with my team-mates. It was only for Rafa’s ears.

I said goodbye to Pepe and Xabi at the parking lot, changing my route from the dressing room to Rafa’s office. I had been with the team for exactly one week and we had played one game. I shouldn’t say we because all I did was sit on the bench and watch the team play. If Liverpool had paid so much money for me, then why wasn’t I playing?

“Rebecca, please come in.”

Rafa’s voice brought me back and I shuffled into his office and sat back into one of the big comfy chairs that sat in front of his desk. Pictures of players that he had brought to the club adored his walls and a picture of his family back in Spain sat proudly on his desk. Next to a picture of him and Fernando. Typical.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” Rafa said in his deep Spanish accented voice, his hands folded neatly on top of his desk.

I nodded my head, furiously biting my lip trying to find the right words to say, so I didn’t sound like a brat. “Why haven’t you played me?”

Rafa sighed, bringing his hand up to his face, “I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to ask that.”

“Well?” I asked hurriedly.

“I’m saving you for a certain game.”
“What game?” I asked my eyes wide with anticipation.

“Real Madrid in two weeks.”

I felt the blood drain from my cheeks, I instantly felt dizzy and the room was spinning underneath me. The next thing I saw was the ceiling of Rafa’s office.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know, Rafa said she just fainted...”

“Hey! Aren’t you boys supposed to be in practice?”

I slowly opened my eyes, my surroundings becoming clearer. I was in the doctor’s office, with about 5 of the guys that should be at practice....where I should be as well.

“Hey Pepe, Xabi, Ryan, Dirk, Steve,” I squeaked out.

“She lives!” Ryan said dramatically, throwing his arms around me, engulfing me in a hug.

“She wouldn’t be alive much longer if you keep squeezing her like that,” Steve said, chuckling from the other bed, where one of the physiotherapist worked on his quad.

“So why did you faint in Rafa’s office?” Xabi said, ruffling my hair.

“She probably saw her paycheck,” a voice said from the doorway.

I looked up to see Fernando standing in the doorway, a smirk on his face. And then a genuine smile broke out. “I was only joking,” he said, stepping into the room.

“We’re playing Real Madrid in two weeks,” I finally croaked out.

The room was instantly silent, everyone knew how close I was to Sergio and Iker, and they all realized that this meant my first game with Liverpool would be against my closest friends. I looked up to see everyone filing out, except Steve who hobbled over to my bed.

“Bec, this is something that you’re going to have to get used to. Playing against family, friends, hell even best friends,” Steve said reassuringly, wrapping an arm around me. “No matter who you’re playing, you’re the best. Always remember that.”

I nodded and hopped off the bed to find Xabi and Pepe, seeing as they were my ride home. I walked out into the parking lot, trying to spot Pepe’s car, only to see that it was pulling away. Without me.

“Need a lift?”

I turned to see Fernando twirling his keys around his fingers, looking everywhere, but me. I studied his face, trying to figure out if he was trying to be nice or going to pull something on me.

“I’m not going to wait here all afternoon for an answer Rebecca.”

The way my name rolled off his tongue captivated me, the same way it captivated me back in Austria, my answer was certainly not no.

“You know I was joking earlier about the paycheck thing right?” Fernando said, breaking the silence in his car.

I nodded and went back to staring out the window at the passing scenery. At least he’s being civil.

“Cause the size of your paycheck definitely isn’t fainting over worthy,” the smug look back on his face.

“Let me out,” I growled, gripping the door handle.

“There’s no way I’m letting you walk back to Pepe’s, the weather is miserable.”

“It’s better than the company in here,” I said, glaring at Fernando.

The smug look never left his face as he turned on the radio to some unknown station and started singing along, quite obnoxiously; a ploy to annoy me even further. After several songs, Fernando’s voice was unbearable and I hit the off button. Fernando continued to sing along, until he realized that he was singing solo.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked innocently.

I shrugged, “My eardrums were starting to bleed.”

Thankfully we pulled into my driveway seconds later, ending the conversation. Or so I thought.

As I was getting out of the car, a hand tugged me back into the car, roughly into someone’s chest. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, I’m trying to be civil with you, but all you can do is snap at me.”

My brain was frozen at just the thought of being this close to Fernando again; he still smelt the same and his hair still fell over his eyes in the same mysterious way. As I looked into his familiar hazel eyes, I realized I wasn’t the only one studying the other person. I could see Fernando’s eyes trailing over my body repeatedly, till his gaze rested on my face.

I was speechless, so instead I just let actions speak louder than words for once.