WOSO Imagines

Rumours Only Grow pt.2 (Caroline Graham Hansen)

All night I contemplate calling or texting Caro, to try to explain and apologize, but I know she needs her space. Besides, this is a conversation that should be had face-to-face. I can barely sleep and eventually have to take several melatonin gummies.

When I wake up on match day, I have a few seconds where I'm still foggy from sleep and don't remember the mess I made last night. Reality comes crashing back in as I climb out of the warmth of my bed. I dread having to get ready like nothing is wrong, like I didn't blow up my entire relationship twelve hours ago, like today will be a wonderful day where everything is normal. I don't have to be at Estadi Johan Cruyff until three, giving me five hours to mope and try not to think about the fact that today was meant to be a celebration of us.

I shove down all that emotion and decide to try and push past the guilt until I am able to talk to her. Instead, I will simply go about my day and think about how I can make it up to her...if she forgives me. I shower, brush my teeth, and get dressed in silence, refusing to check my phone because I know I will only be disappointed.

Caro and I had planned to get brunch together; it's our special matchday ritual of protein-packed smoothie bowls from a place exactly halfway between our apartments. I decide that I'll go anyway, secretly hoping she'll show up so I can begin to plead for her forgiveness that I'm still not sure I deserve. I dress cozy in a pair of sweatpants and one of Caro's jumpers. It still smells like her, and I bury my face in it, again scolding myself for being so stupid.

The walk to the trendy cafe is barely twenty minutes, so I take my time, enjoying the sunshine and crisp breeze as I stroll leisurely through the Barcelona streets, humming some Rosalia song that the girls have been playing in the dressing room lately. I left my phone at home so I could try and enjoy myself instead of obsessively checking it every ten seconds. There's no use working myself up over whether or not I'll hear from her.

I order my normal–strawberry with banana, granola, chia seeds, and honey–and find a seat out on the patio. I like to people watch, especially when I need a distraction from my fuck ups, and I can see everyone out on the street while I enjoy my smoothie bowl.

"Is this seat taken?"

I choke on a banana at the sound of her voice. I knew it was a longshot given had badly I'd hurt her, but here she is. It takes some coughing, a sip of my water, and clearing my throat to be able to speak. "Please."

Caro slides in across from me, setting her own food down in front of her.

"I was hoping you'd show up. Realistically, I didn't think you would, and I didn't think I deserved it, but I'm so glad you're here," I ramble, not quite able to look at her, my hands fidgeting where they're clasped on the table. "Honey, I'm so, so sorry that I ever made you feel like I was embarrassed of us."

She shakes her head. "I shouldn't have said that. I was just frustrated, and I lashed out. I'm sorry."

I finally look her in the eye. "You have nothing to apologize for. I have a lot of insecurities that I need to work through, that I want to work through, because I want to be the girlfriend you deserve. What you said last night really opened my eyes to how selfish I've been, and I realized that I–"

"Bon dia, princesa," a male voice purrs. (Good day, princess)

He approaches the table slowly, probably trying to prove he has swagger, but it just makes me cringe. I squirm under his gaze as he peers at me over his sunglasses, his beady little eyes scanning my whole body. The sun shines directly on his over-greased hair; he's overly fake tanned and his teeth are way too white as he smirks at me. An alpha male predator if I've ever seen one. He completely ignores Caro.