Crush - Leah Williamson

7. You're not sorry

You're not sorry - Taylor Swift

"All this time I was wasting hoping you would come around
I've been giving out chances every time, and all you do is let me down
And it's taking me this long, Baby but I figured you out
And you're thinking we'll be fine again
But not this time around"
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She froze when our eyes met. Her face turned pale and her breath hitched. Unheard gasps left her mouth while her brows rose in acknowledgement. A solitary tear rolled down my face when it all became too much. My bottom lip quivered forcing me to bite it to hide my emotions. Mostly from her

"Ona..." In the distance I was able to muster her words

I shook my head and turned around determined to warm up on the farthest corner of the pitch, where her silhouette would blur.

My mind felt as if disconnected from my body resulting in sloppy passes that I'm grateful Laura decided to avoid highlighting. I just... couldn't understand her. How. When. Why.

Was it so hard to tell me when I called and rambled minutes long about my transfer? Would've been so atrocious to just say the truth and hung up? Did she did it on purpose? She had heard about my arrival beforehand and decided to flea?

"Ona." I stiffed believing she had broke off from her disgusting new team and came to torment me some more. "Ona, you have to go to the bench."

Taken aback, I looked up from my outdated Nike boots to a worrying Megan. She was smiling at me warmly and her hand rested on my shoulder so delicately it seemed she thought I could break at any moment.

I nodded at her, unable to open my mouth without fearing it would let free the waterfalls I was repressing since seeing the brunette. I made my way to the substitution bench knowing I'll not be coming on anytime soon.

Both teams came out of the tunnel and the crowd roared awaiting an exciting match which I could not care less about it. Before shaking hands and taking their places to start, they stood protocolary in front of us. Her betraying eyes focused on mine while I deeply tried to avoid her at all costs. When it became evident she was the one holding PSG line from saluting my team, she gave up.

And then the game was on.

And then it was obvious we were not going to win it.

My teammates' doubtfulness could be felt around the stadium. It was like they didn't know what to do when a PSG player put pressure on them. They risked possession way too many times because of  sloppy passes that soon turned to mistimed tackles. That's how the first goal went in at the 20th minute.

Jackie Groenen stole the ball from Fishlock and run through the middle of the field directly at our penalty area. Defenders tried to block her but a simple and effective two-touch with Bachmann was enough to left her unmarked in front of our goalkeeper. Who tried, but the Dutch's powerful strike was unstoppable.

However I was not surprised, for we were playing horrendously, when at halftime we were down by three. Kicks at their cubby, open water bottles thrown to the floor, yells and recriminations filled the locker room once I stepped inside it. I sat there bewildered as they cursed at each other and blamed everyone but themselves 

"Fuck off Jess. You don't get to blame me for the second goal when it was your fucking fault we were down by one to start!" Our goalkeeper, whom had made an incredible first couple of minutes but failed to do so in the rest of the half, yelled to Fishlock.