Hold Me Close

to have the passion they do

The city of Barcelona lives and breathes football. Its bricks are cemented with it; its trees nourished with it; its pavements and cobblestones and paths walked on by heroes of the game. Heroines, too.

They have given us every accessory imaginable to wear, all of it red and blue. Talia's face as Pina wraps her in a scarf, slotting a flag into her clenched fist, is something that the club's content team avoids, happily focusing on Lucy Bronze's newfound Spanishness. The club isn't really allowed to post me too much until the end of the season, though the Champions League final is an exception. I am under the protection of my agent's very convincing case, and am still technically in a 'mourning period'. (Not at all legally binding, but the Barcelona board gave their word that they would carry out my wishes as long as I put pen to paper and signed the damn contract.)

With this safety blanket, Talia and I operate... under the radar. We let our teammates' dreams come true, like they do every day they wake up and put on a Barcelona shirt. Of course, I celebrate with them now, proud of what we have achieved. Proud of what I have achieved. But, mostly, Talia and I stick to the middle of the bus, pressed together to avoid the wild movements of the others, grateful to be experiencing this moment, and happy to experience it passively.

I take a deep breath, searching for a moment of peace within the cheering. Everyone around me is so full of passion, and I don't feel the same. Maybe I will in a year, or at the end of my contract. It is a privilege to be able to feel so strongly about something. I think about how it felt coming third in the BeNe when I played for Ajax. The disappointment was crushing, but the pride to play for my team, my club, was immense. Wearing the shirt I belonged in was better than winning. I'd like to go home someday, when the league is competitive enough to be a challenge, not a domination. Maybe, in four years, it will develop, and I can return as soon as my contract here expires.

I want to be filled with the passion that has Alexia precariously perched on the edge of the bus, knowing that if she falls, she will land into an ocean of her worshippers. The emotion that has the girls losing their voices, screaming at the top of their lungs. I miss feeling like that.

"So." I nudge Talia, the noise flooding back into my ears with an alarming loudness, confetti falling into my eyes so that it is hard to see. This must be so unsafe. "How is your girlfriend?"

She places her hand on my arm as if to brace me for impact. "We are not together. There is a lot that is happening, and she understands."

"But there is someone?" I smirk and she knows what I'm really after. "You know, I sometimes think that people think we join new teams and use it as Tinder. I mean, Tali, a month is quick to be sneaking around with... Patri?"

"No!" She recoils from me, disgusted. I giggle, having gotten the effect I'd wanted. "No, no, no. You are very invasive, and you already know. You saw us."

Did I?

I wrack my brain for some kind of memorable and unfortunate event that has happened recently, the first that comes to mind being Jaimie and Leah's disgusting conversations where they don't shut up about how they miss each other. I would rather hear about how good the English captain is in bed than sit through another one of those phone calls, and that was an excruciating lunch. The only thing that isn't related to them is from earlier today.

"The girls against the wall? When I was–"

"With Alexia."

Oh. I see where this is going. She is going to turn this onto me, raising her eyebrows with the same hunger for information in her eyes that mine possessed only a moment ago.