the actress & the athlete | sam kerr

fourteen

sam's pov

"oh sheva's left,"

"what do you mean she's left"

"she's left to go back to la, well that's what we've been told."

"wait, what, why?"

"I don't know apparently she can work out of there."

"why would she do that? everything was going so well here."

I walked into the changing room, chatter about sheva was at the forefront of all the conversations, like it was the first day again. when I woke up alone, I didn't think much of it. which was a vehemently opposite reaction to that of a few days prior when I was offended by the new girl and her early bird quirks. I had simply come to accept that sheva was an early-riser, a go-getter, a morning person to the core... and I was nothing like that all, at least not to that extreme.

this time I actually had something to be worried about.

"what's that?" I eagerly jumped in the conversation, trying not to make it so obvious that I was gutted at the rumours in the air, but that didn't work. I was met with fifteen faces of pure pity who knew before I even walked in the room that it would be hard to feed this information to me.

"sheva's... gone home and has opted to do the rest of her training with us via video link" millie nominated herself to be the person to inform me, still speaking quietly.

"why?!" my voice was raised at this point, emotion spilling out of my stubborn shell.

"she probably has other gigs, she's really busy." sophia offered pacifistically, knowing the truth and knowing her explanation didn't make sense.

"and you're not busy? and margaret's not busy? but she's sooo busy that she can leave without even saying goodbye? whatever... I call bullshit." I turned away leaning on the bench to lace up my boots, opting to be quiet before I took it out on the wrong person. all without noticing an unusually sympathetic emma hayes, who shouted "kerr," wagging her finger towards herself, "a word."

we stood outside the closed fire door that slammed behind us as I exited, a little bit of aggression coming out in the swing of the door. in the 3 seconds it took me to leave, my mind raced as to why I'd been singled out, I scored three goals yesterday, for fuck's sake.

"everything alright emma?"

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sam was moody. her arms were crossed and her posture was slumped against the wall, in the last 5 minutes, she decided she wasn't the forever happy-go-lucky, enthusiastic chick that made training less painstaking for everyone else. not today.

"well not really sam, look at yourself. what's going on?" emma's sympathy quickly drained away upon noticing sam's attitude, "what's gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry emma, I just think we're all very distracted by this whole th-"

"no. we're not, sam. you are. just have a think about it."

emma pointed her finger out at sam, she was disappointed in her star striker and better yet, concerned. with an eyeroll, not in emma's direction, nor specifically directed at emma, sam spun around with the mutual understanding that the conversation was over and made an internalised bid with herself to stop being preoccupied with the film star, no matter how stubborn she was and how much she wanted to protest that she actually wasn't obsessed with the blonde. for the sake of the team and the side project, she had to focus on the matter at hand, her soccer and her dedication to peaking young, fresh interest in women's football.