Chasing Her || FreenBecky [Completed]

Chapter 14

As my clock struck 9 in the morning, I bolted out of bed, realizing I was late for Becky's match. Damn it! I had heard her game was starting at 9 am, and with a 30-minute travel time ahead, I knew I'd miss the first half.

Rushing, I quickly hopped into the shower and then sought out Mew, asking if I could borrow his motorcycle. I had to get there ASAP. Becky wouldn't be too thrilled if I arrived late and she'd probably pester me about it!

"Why the rush?" Mew inquired over his coffee. "You don't have classes today."

"I need to catch a football game starting at 9 am," I replied, grabbing his motorcycle key.

"So what? You're not exactly a football fanatic, Freen. Plus, games last 90 minutes; you'll still catch most of it even if you're late." Mew tried to calm me down, his brows furrowing. "Bright's match is next week. Whose match are you so worked up about?"

I looked away, questioning my own urgency. Would Becky really be upset if I arrived late? Well, perhaps she wouldn't mind, but I had this nagging feeling she wouldn't play unless I was there. And as the star player, the team needed her on the field.

"I'm back as the student council president, you know? I have to support my schoolmates," I managed a nervous smile. "I gotta run. See you later, bro." I kissed his cheek, though he still seemed skeptical.

"Don't waste your time, Freen!" he called after me as I sped off. My only thought was getting to the match pronto. How did I forget to set an alarm?

Upon parking the motorcycle, I made a beeline for the field. The place was packed, banners flying high for Becky. She'd gained quite the following after her last match against Bright. But there she sat on the bench. What was going on? Was my hunch right? Was she waiting for me?

Navigating through the crowd, I approached where Becky was seated. Supporters around me were clamoring for her to play, yet she remained benched. What was the deal?

"What's up with Becky?" I inquired of a fellow student, eyes fixed on her. "Why isn't she out there?"

"I heard the coach benched her due to a high fever. Said she's better off resting," the student informed me.

Glancing at the scoreboard—3-0, first half almost done—I realized without Becky, our team was in trouble. But risking her health for a game? That didn't sit right. Should I intervene?

"Mind if I talk to her?" I asked, descending from the bleachers to check on Becky and possibly take her home. Seeing her upset because she couldn't contribute would be worse than missing the game.

"Miss President, what brings you here? You shouldn't be down here," another player remarked, drawing curious glances from the bench, including Becky's. Her eyes lit up when she saw me.

"You made it," she said softly. "I've been waiting."

"Yeah, and now that I'm here, I'm taking you home. You're sick; you shouldn't push yourself," I insisted, reaching for her hand. But she resisted.

"I'll play the second half. I'll win this game, and then you owe me dinner," she declared, smiling despite the evident pain in her eyes. Why was she still insisting? Was it just fatigue?

"I'll take you to dinner now. No need to play," I urged, but she held firm.

"Please? I know you want our team to win. It's a matter of pride for our university," she pleaded, pouting. "One game, then I'll go home with you."

"Bec," I tried once more, but she squeezed my hand, telling the coach she was good to go. I didn't like it, knowing she might collapse if pushed too hard. Why was she so stubborn?

As the second half commenced, I could only watch, nerves on edge. Becky was clearly in pain, and I couldn't shake the worry. Why couldn't she take it easy? Everyone knew her prowess; she didn't need to prove anything.

"Goal!" The crowd erupted as Becky scored. She glanced in my direction, signaling she was okay. Was it obvious I was worried sick?

The chants for Becky grew louder as she skillfully maneuvered on the field. With every move, I feared she'd overexert herself. Two more goals and I'd definitely give her a piece of my mind!

During a timeout, Becky hurried over, her pallor evident. Many offered her drinks, but her eyes sought only mine.

"Got any water?" she asked.

"Only my fist. I'll give you a good punch later for being so stubborn," I joked, rolling my eyes. "If you collapse out there, how do you think I'll feel? I came to watch you play, not worry about you."

Becky chuckled, accepting water from a teammate. "I'll win this one, and then dinner, deal?" She smiled, returning to the field.

I rolled my eyes again, fighting back frustration. Didn't she realize the risks? Damn her.

Fast forward, with two minutes left, the ball was with the opponent. The score tied 3-3. Becky passed to Irin, who almost scored but hit the rails. Yet Becky, relentless as ever, headed the rebound, sealing the deal with another goal. The crowd erupted in cheers as the game ended, victory ours. I scanned the field for Becky, finding her surrounded by teammates. Hurrying over, I checked on her; she seemed okay, albeit nursing a headache.

"Mind if I take her home, coach?" I requested, aware of Becky's condition. Her part was done; now, she needed rest.

"Freen," she called as I fetched her bag and took her hand to leave. "Did I do okay?"

"Yes, but I'm not happy," I sighed, guiding her home. "Next time you're not well, just rest. Got it?" I scolded gently.

Becky nodded, a frown creasing her brow. "I'm sorry."

"Anyway, congrats on the win. Dinner's on me, but first, you need to take care of yourself. I can't dine with someone running a fever," I insisted, helping her with her bag.

"Are we taking the motorcycle?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"Why? Scared?" I teased.

"No," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. I could sense her exhaustion.

I started the engine, and she climbed on behind me, holding me tightly. As we rode, her arms wrapped around me, her head resting against my back.

"Hey, ease up. Can't ride like this," I warned, feeling her grip tighten.

"Fine," she relented, sighing softly.