Meet the plastics (Regina x fem reader)

21 - The apology

My first game back brings a burst of nerves I hadn't experienced in a long time. Goosebumps bubble up my arms, prickling my skin. The jersey feels tight against my chest, lacing up my cleats with quivering hands. I've waited a long time to be back, and I hadn't expected anything other than happiness and joy on my mind, definitely not unprovoked nerves.

I'm not sure why, exactly. Maybe it's because I haven't actually played in over several months, or because I'm scared of another injury or worsening the one I've just completely recovered from. Or maybe, maybe it's because I know Regina's in the stands and I haven't seen her properly since I woke up in her bed over a month ago, her missing last weeks lectures due to an illness. I don't just know this from others. I know this because Regina herself told me, or rather texted me. That she was ill last week, and that she's watching today.

She did pick Cady and I up from the airport, but the drive was short lived, and we never did end up hanging out after all as she always seems to be busy.

"I can't tell you how happy I am that you're finally back." Kate pulls me into a hug, not even a second after I had straightened up from double knotting my shoes. I let myself smile and hug back.

"Me too." I say quietly, releasing Kate when we're called into formation and make our way out onto the field. I keep my eyes on the grass, wishing Kate a quiet good luck as I make my way over to the bench as I'm not starting.

I watch from the sidelines, keeping my attention from wandering off to the crowds. Their left back makes a break through, cutting it across our midfield and right into their forward's feet. She cuts it back, dribbles past our defence and scores a goal. The first half ends in 1-0 to the opposition.

The atmosphere in the locker room is glum when we gather there at halftime. Kate and I sit together in our corner, listening in on Coach Danvers' talk. I'm in between zoning out as I replay different plays from the game in my head, and paying attention when I hear my name being called. At first I think it's because I was caught not listening but it's far from that.

"You're going on," Coach Danvers says and my face morphs into one of shock and then confusion. For the entire forty five minutes?

"Okay," is the only thing I can think to reply with, trying to keep my cool with the amount of eyes now lazered onto me from the entire team.

We're led back out and I naturally fall into my usual starting position. The ball is passed to me right as the whistle blows, I dribble it up the wing but my cross is blocked by their defender and knocked out for a throw-in.

It's a very tiresome yet even game. The ball is kicked up and down the pitch a hundred times over, neither team getting a shot off on target until thirty minutes in. Kate saves it, secure in her gloves, kicking it over to me. The quick turn over displaces the other team as I'm able to get behind them and cross the ball over to our striker, Shuri. Instead of reaching her, the ball curves into the far top corner and into the goal.

I stand there, glancing at the ball that bounces to the ground in surprise until I'm being bombarded with bodies in celebration. I let joy fill me up for a few sweet seconds until I remember we haven't actually won yet: we're still level.

Our winning goal comes about ten minutes later, an accidental own goal from the opposition's midfielder from our corner I take. No one celebrates as such, as it's a bitter sweet feeling, but a goal is a goal and when the final whistle blows, a win is a win.

I somehow manage to enter the locker room, shower and get changed before anyone else has returned. We have a brief post game chat from the coach until she leaves us to change, some of the girls blasting music. I greet Kate with a high five, her telling me I can wait outside for her as she knows I dislike the rowdiness and how busy the locker room gets after games.