something about you- lena oberdorf

V.

The second half passes by fast and our loved Lionesses couldn't turn the game around. They had a strong comeback with Lauren James scoring 2 goals, but the defence lacked in the last 20 minutes, so Germany scored another 2 goals, which made it end 3:2 for the Germans.

We decide to stay a little bit longer, so that there aren't too many people causing an problem for Lily eventually. On the pitch you can only see an small amount of players, that didn't get to play, running together to still get some motion in their legs.

We are about to leave our seats, of course devastated by the loss, when I hear someone whistling.
At first I ignore it, but after hearing the whistling going again for the fifth time I turn around just to look at this stupid person that won't stop annoying me with this loud noise.

I start searching the person from where the sound is coming from and my eyes land on the substitute bench down on the field.

I recognise that build of a trained body and brown hair which is now worn down and not in an high ponytail...It is Oberdorf that whistles for straight up like one minute, or so.

I again have the feeling that she looks at me. This time with an expectational impression, but I am still confused.
Slowly, I point at myself with my finger and an question mark on my face, trying to represent something like „Me???"

I am giving my best to not miss any reaction she could have to that, not in a lifetime thinking that she would ever mean me.
But then all of a sudden this woman holds 2 thumps up and waves in her direction to make me come over to her.

"Guys...I have to go. Meet me outside. You can go, it won't take long."
"What??? Ally? Where are you going?" the others ask.
"Omg guys just go!!! I'll be right behind you." is the only thing I reply to my friends.
At this point, I don't really care what they are thinking right now or if they are worried.

I just know, that something is making me walk over to the very first row, where the girl in football clothes is waiting for me.

Words can't express what's going on in my head in this moment. It's confusion, excitement, fear and happiness all together at once, but mostly confusion I guess. I mean can you blame me???

When I'm finally facing her, after walking through the small gaps in between the rows, she comes closer to me and starts to take off her jersey. She doesn't say a word, but I don't think I am able to talk to her right now either way.

My eyes trail across her wide shoulders, her slight abs and her trained legs. When I'm done checking out her body, my eyes meet hers again and she handles me over her shirt with a little note on top of it.
It's a bit knittery and when I say little, I mean veeeryyyy small.

I take it with my shaking hands and slightly bring out a smile at her. Before she goes back in the changing rooms, she turns around and winks at me...without saying one fucking word. (Not like I would want an explanation for this or something)

Confused and surprised I head out of the stadium meeting the significant six who waited for me, wanting to leave with my dad.

„What was it?"
„Yes, where were you?"
„Everything okay?" are questions that are being thrown at me, when I come back from meeting the player.
„Yes, I am fine. There was just someone that knew me from a match when I played against them. Her name was Anna...or something like that...I forgot." I lie, remembering I'm not really good at that.
For some reason, I don't want and can't tell my best friends about what just happened. I catch myself off guard, that I don't tell them. And it is shocking to me, that they didn't notice my weird behaviour and lying.

The significant six are my favourite people on the planet. My ride or dies, for sure.

I usually talk to them about every shit happening in my life and I never ever regretted it. When I needed help they came with advice, when I was sad they comforted me or bought me food, when I did something embarrassing they would laugh at me and if I was angry at them, they'd tell me to go home and come back when I chilled out, because they knew I would.

I would always run back to them, and they would always run back to me.

Right now, it hurts me that I don't tell them about an professional football player coming up to me and handing me over their trikot with an mysterious note. Because it's fucked up.

It's fucked up crazy and I think, that thats the matter. I have to realise it myself first, before going out and telling everyone. I mean, who would believe me either way?

I roll the shirt together and hide it in my bag, watching out for the little paper in it, not to get lost.

We get in the car quickly before the streets are too full and we would need 3 hours to get home.

I keep shuffling in my seat while we drive back home, dropping each of my friends off at their home. I am too nervous, wondering what could be written down on that paper.

For the first time ever I'm glad that me and the others can't have a sleepover. I need to be alone with this situation.

Dad and I arrive home late at night, so I tell him that I'll go to sleep, because I am very tired, which is obviously not true. I have never been more awake.
I run up the stairs into my room to finally sit on my bed and unfold the piece of paper.

When I unfold it I just stare at it, not knowing what to even think or do.

author's note—
- i need friends like the significant six :(
- uploading late at night but better than never