August & Colin | WRU series | book 1
We take risks. We make mistakes. We lie. We love. We hurt. We lose total control.
I took a risk. I paid the price.
I made a mistake. I felt the guilt.
I lied. I lie.
I loved. I try not to.
I hurt. I still do.
...
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The silence in the stadium is deafening. Every spectator on Willamette River University's side is holding his breath in anticipation of the outcome of Matteo's penalty.
2-2
This penalty could prevent a penalty series necessary to define a winning team from occurring. With only 1 minute left to play, this penalty, if scored, could give them their ticket to the next round of the College Cup. I can't imagine the pressure on Matteo Hernandez's shoulders, the pressure of securing WRU a place in the tournament's next round. I can't imagine what it feels like to feel hundreds of eyes burning on your back, through your skin, itching your heart to beat faster.
The nerves in my body are roaring from excitement and fear as I stare down at Matteo on the soccer field who's taking a couple of steps back, preparing himself to take the shot and define the future of WRU soccer season.
Lucie's fingers dig into the skin of my lower arm as she's watching.
"I don't think my heart can take this," she mumbles absently, too caught up in the anticipation of Matteo's shot. In moments of stress, excitement, or whenever emotion is overwhelmingly present Lucie either loses her voice or babbles your ear off. Right now, it seems like the audience's silence is contagious as she falls silent after her one statement. However, her grip on my arms doesn't loosen.
Matteo snaps his neck from one side to the other before rolling his shoulders. His body stops moving as he focuses on the goal, calculating the angle, speed, and twist he needs to give the ball to score. The halt in his movement takes up less than a second, then his body jerks forward as he takes the shot. The whole stadium holds its breath as they watch the ball fly through the air, charging for the goal.
Lucie's grip tightens even further, almost shutting off the blood flow to my hand. However, I'm too caught up in the movement to peel her fingers from around my forearm. My eyes are glued to the ball. My heart is racing in my chest, probably matching every soccer player's frantic heartbeat.
The ball flies by the goalkeeper and hits the net.
The stadium erupts like fireworks. Pure exhilaration. Chaos. Colorful happiness.
It's everywhere. It's intoxicating. It's freeing.
Matteo runs to the crowd and pumps up his fist in euphoria before the whole team jumps him in elation, praising him for securing their place into the next round.
Lucie jumps up and down as if she won the lottery, Brooklyn roars like a rugby player ready to floor his opponent and the combination of everything happening around me breaks my face open in chest-relieving laughs.
The whole stadium on our side is already celebrating the win as if the 60 seconds left on the clock are non-existent. They dance, they jump, they scream, they chant, they celebrate and we join them, ignoring the minute left because the chances of anything happening that'll change the outcome of this game in those remaining seconds are slim.
