Football Imagines

Alexander-Arnold [Part 1]

Trent Alexander-Arnold
🔴Liverpool 🔴
🦁🦁🦁England National Team

"Oh I forgot to tell you, you'll never guess who got engaged a few weeks ago," my mom says excitedly over the phone.
"Who?" I ask.
"Trent," she says.
"Trent, as in Deb's son?" I ask surprised.
"Yeah," she replies.
"But he's only 22, that's pretty young to be getting married," I say.
"I know, but that's none of our business," she says.
"Who's the girl?" I ask.
"Oh, you should actually know her, apparently they were dating since high school," she says.
"Celeste?" I ask.
"Something like that, did you know her?" She asks.
"I knew of her, we weren't really friends," I say.
"Is she a good kid?" She asks.
"Yeah, she was pretty decent in high school, I don't know now," I say.
"Well, I wish them the best," she says.
"Yeah, I think I'll give Trent a call, give him my congrats. I haven't seen him in years," I say.
"That's because you're never around for Christmas, we always celebrate with the Arnold's," she says.
"That's because it's too cold in England during Christmas. Come spend it in Australia, and enjoy our 35° summer," I say.
"I'd rather freeze than dry out," my mom says sarcastically.
"Whatever, anyway, let me get going," I say with a laugh.
"Alright, love you hunny," she says.
"Love you too," I say before cutting the call.

Trent Alexander-Arnold and Celeste Peters, now there's something I didn't think would last outside of high school.

I scroll through my contact list in search of Trent's name, it's been a while so I wouldn't say it's on my frequent contact list.

I hear it ringing and I can feel my heart beat a little bit faster the longer I'm kept waiting.

I think back to high school where he'd call me at night to help him with maths and biology and we'd both have to whisper because we didn't want our parents to hear us.

In a way we have our parents to thank for us meeting. Our moms worked together and became good friends, which meant we got dragged along to every outing they planned.

I guess it helped going into high school knowing one of the popular football guys....in hindsight it's funny how simple things were back then.

I was Trent's best friend and he was mine. All we needed to do was pass school and play football.

Then we got older and suddenly Trent started talking to me about Celeste. At the time it meant nothing to me because it felt like just another stupid crush of Trent's, just like Rihanna and Beyonce, until it wasn't.

You never really realize how much you feel for someone until you're giving them advice on how to ask out a girl that isn't you.

Celeste won a game that I didn't even know I was playing, until I ended up finishing dead last. And maybe that's why I left Liverpool the second I was given the chance.

Out of sight, out of mind. You can't fall in love with a friend when you're oceans away from them. Well, looks like my plan backfired because he's getting married and I'm still hung up on him, thousands of miles away from him.

"Hello," he says on the line, shocking me out of my reminiscing.
"Trenty," I say with a smile hoping he recognises my nickname for him.
"Tara?" He asks with his confusion evident.
"G'day mate," I say immitating an Australian accent.
"I'm guessing that's a yes, seeing as you're the only Australian I know," he says with a laugh.
"How are you, it's been forever," I say.
"Yeah it's been a long 4 years hasn't it," he says with a chuckle, "but I'm good. How're things in the land down under?"
"I'm loving the winters," I say with a laugh, "they never reach the negatives."
"Sounds like a desert," he says dramatically.
"So a little birdy told me you're an engaged man now," I say.
"Word travel fast," he says.
"Is it really what you want?" I ask.

He pauses for a second probably surprised at my response.

"Most people say congratulations when they hear the news," he says.
"I'm just asking if you know what you're getting into," I say.
"Are you seriously gonna hit me up after 4 years of radio silence and ask me this," he says.
"Come on Trent, you're only 22, don't you think it's a bit young to be doing the whole marriage and kids thing," I say.
"I don't mean to be rude when I say this, but you have no permission to call me after four years and tell me what you think about my choices," he says.
"I'm doing it because we're good friends," I say.
"No, good friends come home for Christmas to see each other and call each other and make an effort to stay friends. You're just someone I knew in high school that fell off the face of the Earth," he says.

I feel a bit hurt at the way he describes me.

"Look whatever you think of me is irrelevant, but I know that you're only marrying Celeste because you want the whole high school sweetheart bullsh*t story every fairytale is about," I say.
"And how would you know that?" He snaps back.
"Because I know you and I know that you want the love that stories are written about. And you want three kids and a big family home in Liverpool. You probably proposed to her right in the centre of Anfield and you're planning a wedding in Cotswold. You call her some cheesy nickname because it fits the narrative. High school sweethearts that spend the rest of their lives together. But you're only 22 and once you reach 30, you're gonna realize that you two aren't the same people that got married years ago, but you'd never let yourself admit it because it would ruin the narrative. It would end the fairytale that you so strongly strive to live," I say.

He pauses for longer than I'd like and I fear that he's going to cut the call.

"So what. What am I supposed to do with your mad theory? Break up with Celeste because Tara Bennett thinks it's wrong? Mmmh, is that what you want?" He asks.
"I'm not trying to get you to do anything, I just want you think about what you're really getting yourself into," I say.
"I find that hard to believe, because no one randomly calls me after 4 years without an agenda," he says not even trying to hide his annoyance.
"Look, I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life. Whatever happened between us, you're still my best friend and I know you. can I at least come to Liverpool to try and convince you that there's more to life than just marrying the first girl that fits the narrative," I plead.
"What if I don't want to see you?" He asks.
"Then tell me. Tell me that after 4 years you don't want to see me. You don't want to see whether I died my hair blonde, or whether I got a lip ring. Just say the word and I won't make an effort to see you," I say.

He remains silent which is a good enough sign for me.

"Just don't get married before then," I say.