It all started with a match. One simple match. Just a match between Argentina and Saudi Arabia. The match on November 22nd.
.
Then, she discovered the thing called World Cup. The World Cup (with capital letters). The one thing that united the world...
Olivia's POV: "And the most important part," Blake said and made sure to catch my attention. "Let aside the fact that you'll need to stop eating anything with added sugar," she said matter-of-factly."Because well...I know you. You eat much more food with added sugar than the normal person should."
"Hey, that's not-" I tried to protest.
"Don't even try," she raised her hand mischievously. "I may have known you only for a few months, but I know what I know," she stated.
"Whatever," I crossed my arms. "So what's the next thing you'll restrict me from?" I said, she definitely catching the sarcastic note in my tone.
"No more iced tea" she almost spitted it out.
"What?!" I shouted, making some students look at us. "Sorry," I apologised. "Are you out of your mind?!" I whisper-shouted, catching her for her elbow and directing her to the room our first class was in.
"No," she said, removing my hand from hers. "Do you know how much sugar a single bottle of iced tea has?"
"No?" I asked instead of saying.
"Too much," Blake responded and pushed me in the room. "And your body doesn't need it."
"And you're sure?" I wanted to change her mind.
"Who's the coach here?" she asked and looked at me seriously. "I trust my research."
"If you say so," I sat down on my desk, she sitting beside me.
***
"But-" I tried.
"No "buts"," Blake refused and put the iced tea bottle in the fridge again. "Come on," she said and showed me the way to where I needed to pay.
"Urgh..." I groaned. "Okay..." I said and walked to pay.
"Good job," Blake raised her hand amusingly. "You've overcome the desire for iced tea. That's the first step!"
"Don't you say," I said almost offended. "Now," I turned my face to her. "Can I pay my lunch in peace?!"
"Yeah, yeah," she laughed and moved from my way.
"It's not fun," I protested.
"It is," she continued laughing. "Because when you become the best player in history of football, you'll be grateful that moi," she pointed to herself. "Have restricted you from drinking that iced tea," she said proudly.
"Let's see if I'll even make it there," I said as I was getting the tray with my already paid lunch. "Then we'll see about that."
"Okay," she laughed even more.
"Stop laughing," I pretended to pout.
"Okay, okay," she said. "I have other things to do with you now anyway."
"And all that means?" I was extremely dumbfounded.
"That me, you, my laptop, my notebook, and our brains will have to work together during that lunch break."
"I didn't understand a word you said," I looked at her with a blank expression, still offended for the iced tea situation.
"Me and you will watch and analyse a football match because we'll be starting your technique training soon," she looked at me with a silly spark in her eyes.
"Really?!" I squealed with excitement. "I've been waiting for this for three weeks now!"
"I know," she laughed a little with her hand going a little over her mouth as if she wanted to me to see how proud she was. "That's why I'm so excited too," Blake revealed.
"And what are we waiting for?" I asked, squeezing the lunch tray harder because of excitement.
***
Ten minutes later me, Blake, her laptop and notebook were sitting in a cozy corner, away from most of the students eating there, searching a match worth to us, the masterminds (do you sense the sarcasm?) to analyse.
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(Pinterest photo again. Credit to Eduarda Fonseca)
"What do you say about this one?" I said and turned the laptop to her, so she can see.
"4-3 Barcelona vs Real Madrid?" she asked.
"Yeah, why not?" I shrugged. "There is no better way to start understanding football than El Clasico."
"I guess you're right," she shrugged too and handed me my fruit cup in my hands. "Let's start then, shall we?"
"We shall," I nodded proudly. "Just a second to set it up."
***
"Woah!" I jumped with my mouth full of fruits right after Iniesta scored in the seventh minute of the match.
"Hold on," she stopped the match, and I saw her drawing a diagram in her precious notebook.
I looked at it and recognised the way Andres Iniesta got through the defence of his opponents.
"Is that the way of Iniesta through the pitch?" I asked, really intrigued.
"Mhm," she confirmed and continued drawing and annotating. "But not only," she said. "Here is the way they got their possession back, played a bit in Tiki-Taka, got moving with the Real Madrid defence while Andres Iniesta was on their left, and the rest...well, we watched it."
"Wow," I was astonished. "This game is no joke."
"It is not," Blake laughed under her breath as she was still drawing the diagram.
"I wonder if I'm ever going to play that well..." I sat more comfortably, still eating fruits.
"We'll do our best to get this happen, but first we need to find out which position is for you," she said, finally leaving her pen between the pages of the notebook and closed it.
"How are we going to do that?" I asked intrigued.
"I did some research yesterday-" she started, but I interrupted her.
"Of course you did," I laughed, finishing my fruit cup. "I mean," I started because I saw her sarcastically offended face. "You always do the research. That's why I trust you with everything," I left my cup on the table. "Because you always check if the sources are reliable," I teased a little.
"Whatever you say, but clearly my techniques work," she teased by being defensively offended.
"I never said they didn't work!" I jumped a little and threw my hands in the air.
"Mhm," she raised an eyebrow. "If you're done with pouting, can we continue because lunch will end, and we won't even be done with the first half of the match."
In answer I just clicked the button of the laptop, and the players on the screen started moving again.
