i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you (Ted Lasso)

and the cynics were outraged

Warnings for this chapter:
- Vague mentions of past trauma
- Implied abuse
- References to mental illness
- Adult language

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If there is one thing that years of self-imposed isolation have done for Thea, it is lower her tolerance for the all-encompassing horror of second-hand embarrassment.

First-hand embarrassment is something she knows well enough. It's one of the few things she has consistently excelled at. Not that she doesn't practice. Remembering every mistake, she has ever made has become a staple part of her night-time routine.

But other people's mistakes? Nine times out of ten, she is oblivious. And that rare tenth time? Well, it is usually more endearing than it is embarrassing.

Luckily, she gets a boost to her system when Jamie decides to try and take his relationship to the next level over breakfast.

"Come to the match on Sunday."

To her credit, Thea is trying her best not to eavesdrop.

Her earphones are pressed so deep into her ears that they may as well be rattling around in her skull and her music is bordering on deafening. But as the final song on her playlist, 'sad-girl-summer meet angry-girl-autumn' , fades into silence, it's hard not to hear.

And it's not like they don't know she's there.

The only reason she is even in the kitchenette, bright-green dressing gown wrapped around her body like a neon sign, is to make coffee that they asked for.

So, really, it's barely even her fault.

"Huh?" Casey asks.

"We're playin' at home on Sunday, and I talked to my gaffer about gettin' you a ticket," Jamie explains. "Was thinkin' we'd go in early and make a day of it. Give you a tour, introduce you to the lads, then Keeley'll take you up the gaffer's booth to watch the match."

Casey smiles like Jamie is telling a joke. "Because there is nothing, I want to do than get up early on a Sunday and spend the day with your ex-girlfriend."

"Don't be like that."

"Really? You know I'm only joking; I'm sure Keeley is lovely." Casey says. "But, babe, you know that I don't care about football."

If there is a world record for the loudest way to pour a coffee, Thea has broken it twice over.

"I'm not askin' you to give a shit about football," Jamie says. "I'm just askin' you to come to a match."

"And I'm saying that I don't want to."

Thea knows that she shouldn't take sides, but she can't help but see where Jamie is coming from.

Whether Casey cares about football or not, this match is obviously important to him. Not just him either. There's a real excitement in the air when people talk about Richmond. A sense that they might just be able to make something good out of this.

Even Colin, who makes a point to talk about everything but Richmond FC and their matches, couldn't help but mention it during their last lesson. It was the first time she had seen him talk about football without picking up on a sense of dread. Just pure belief and a spark in his eyes.

"What if I got someone to pick you up?" Jamie perseveres. "You'd only have to come for one half."

"Babe, don't be like this."

He pulls a face. "I don't get what the problem is."

"The problem is that you're not listening to me," Casey says. "It's very sweet for you to invite me and I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to go." She leans over and squeezes his hand. "How about we just meet up afterward like usual? I'll get us a table somewhere nice."