How hard can it be to fall in love with a football player when you're afraid of footballs...?
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Helping out her best friend by playing the lead in that music video project for university had seemed like an easy enough feat for art student Lorelai...
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»›It's a great city‹,« Jane said, nonplussed. »That's what you said? ›It's a great city‹.«
Lorelai nodded, giving her friend a sheepish sideways look. »Yep.«
A moment of silence. Then, »You're an idiot.«
»Thank you very much,« Lorelai retorted, rolling her eyes.
It was Tuesday evening on the 23rd October and they sat on the couch in Lorelai's apartment, watching TV, actually waiting for the match to start: FC Barcelona against Ajax Amsterdam. Champions League.
Diego kept them company; or, to be more precise, he permitted their presence in the common room, because he'd planned on watching the match anyway. At first he'd been less than happy about it. But as soon as he'd found out about the girls' plan to see it as well and not »chat on and on while he wanted to watch the match«, he had been more than willing to explain some basic football rules and what the teams and certain players were like. Of course he hadn't left out Neymar in his praise for the FC Barcelona (or »Barça« as Diego kept calling it), repeating time and again how great of a season start »that boy« had had. Diego was allowed to call him boy - seeing as he was the oldest of their little group with his twenty-six years. Still sounded weird in Lorelai's ears though.
Originally, Lorelai hadn't even intended to watch the match, but after her evening class had finished she'd seen the people around Camp Nou on her usual way home. Many, many people. Upon coming home, she'd asked Diego whom the FC Barcelona was playing against tonight. And so here they were now, sitting on their small but comfy couch.
At the moment, Diego was in the kitchen next door to collect some munchy stuff for the match - beer, crisps, chocolate, and whatever else the larder gave away. From the faint sound of water boiling through the open doors and hallway, Lorelai guessed he also made them something delicious to eat.
The TV ran in the background as Jane drilled Lorelai yet again about the talk she'd had with Neymar the other day. It felt like a repeat of yesterday's talk after leaving the training compound: the long over-due »discussion«, as Jane had called it. Which, in other words, meant that Lorelai had to basically re-enact every conversation with Neymar for Jane to (over)analyse every word, movement and gesture.
»I leave you two alone on purpose and you can't come up with anything? I swear, one of these days I will get you ›Flirting for Dummies‹. Your birthday's coming up, right? Seriously, what's with you?« Jane asked.
»I already told you, Jane. I'm not into him like that,« Lorelai objected, annoyed. She picked up one of the many cushions assorted on the couch, hugging it close to her midriff. »Why do you feel the need to hook us up? I really don't get it!«
Her frustration wasn't Jane's fault this time. Well, only partly. At least she hadn't been the initial factor for Lorelai's irritation. Lorelai had already been drilled by her curious co-workers today. She'd been forced to skip a course on campus for that emergency shift too; a shift that usually wasn't hers this semester. But that other part-time waitress had suddenly quit from one day to the next, and Miguel was out of the picture for whatever reason. So that had given Marina and Silvio enough time to drill her about the video viewing.
