Hold Me Close

campeona del puto mundo

The anticipation of the World Cup final shatters Sydney, kicking the city when it's down, rubbing Australia's lack of medal right in its face.

England plays Spain tonight, and I have been forced into lunch with Leah Williamson.

My sister's girlfriend just happened to be in the country, and really wasn't intending to go, thinking that the tickets would be sold out. I told her she was being stupid – much like she had a month ago the night I almost fucked it up with Alexia (and then, funnily enough, fucked Alexia) – and that the captain would always have tickets available to them. She tries to drag me into the English friends and family section with her, but she is unable to, and so the lunch is a compromise.

The restaurant is quietly buzzing, and thrilled with the presence of two footballers, though we are tucked into the back corner in the hope that no one seeks to disturb us. Leah's leg is bouncing up and down, and has been since we sat down. I am nervous, but not crushed under the investment that she has in this. You'd think she'd bet her entire life savings on this match.

"Been recovering?" she asks despite her jittering, peering at the menu with disgust until her eyes fall on what I presume is the section for children. Jaimie warned me. "Sucks getting knocked out. Did Putellas make it up to you?"

I place my own menu down so that she can see the glare I am giving her. "No. It was a horrible night, and... Just no. You're my sister's girlfriend."

"Nah, but you're like the younger sister I never had," she teases, kicking me under the table. I can't retaliate because I can't remember which ACL she tore, and it's not fair. "And Jaimie may or may not have instructed me to make sure you're not about to jump off a cliff. And I want to know about Alexia Putellas because I'm the reason you got together and therefore should be kept informed."

"You know, you're only two months older than me."

"But so, so, so much more mature."

"Just because I don't know about the disgusting details of your relationship, doesn't mean I don't suspect there weren't some stupid moments from both of you. God knows it's possible." She rolls her eyes and calls over the waitress. I mirror her actions when she orders chicken nuggets and chips, and I get a burger for myself (it's the off-season now).

"But, seriously, how are you? Ever since Viv's injury, everyone knows your country's been counting on you." I'm used to sharing the load with our top goalscorer. I'm also used to feeding her goals, not having to score them myself.

"I'm bored of that question," I answer, honestly. "I think I've finally caught up on sleep, though, so maybe losing has not been that bad. I'm also terrified for Alexia."

She winks. "Me too, but I think for different reasons."

This starts a gentle argument about who is going to win. Leah, ever passionate about her nation, is ready to stand on her chair and preach the score she is sure will have them lifting their second major trophy in two years. She even uses Jaimie against me, showing me a picture of her in an England scarf all the way from Ohio.

From playing with most of the Spanish team, I have a reasonable counter to Leah's bias, but I am more concerned with the way Leah is prodding at how easily they will defend Alexia to notice the trap I am being led into.

It snaps shut when I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair with a huff.

Leah is delighted. Not only have I quit the debate, but she has irritated me enough to get a blush out of me. "I win," she giggles, and I decide she is just as annoying as my sister and that they deserve each other. "You've got such a big, fat crush on Alexia Putellas."