The atmosphere in Stamford Bridge is electric. Chelsea is playing a high-stakes match, and Amelie and I are caught up in the excitement. Amelie is cheering enthusiastically while I try to keep up with her fervor. Suddenly, I start to feel lightheaded. The noise, the crowd, and the sheer energy of the stadium begin to overwhelm me. I try to steady myself, but the world starts to spin.
Amelie notices my distress. "Emma, are you okay?" she asks, concern etched on her face.
"I think I just need some air," I reply, my voice shaky.
Just as I'm about to stumble, I see a player warming up on the sidelines, preparing to be substituted into the game. He catches my eye for a brief moment, his gaze lingering just a second longer before he looks away. The player, who seems vaguely familiar from the posters and game coverage Amelie always gushes over, notices my unsteady state and immediately alerts a nearby security guard.
The security guard makes his way through the crowd toward us. "Excuse me, miss," he says gently. "Are you feeling alright? Let me help you to a quieter place."
Amelie helps me up, and the security guard guides us to a less crowded area near the team's benches. As I sit down, trying to catch my breath, the same player jogs over. He speaks to the security guard in a mix of Spanish and broken English, asking about my condition. Having Spanish as one of my period classes in school back then, I understood it quite good.
"¿Está bien?" the player asks, concern in his eyes. "She... okay?"
The security guard nods. "She just needs some air. She'll be fine."
The player turns to me, his eyes full of concern. "¿Estás... bien ahora?"
I nod, still a bit dazed. "Yes, much better. Thank you."
He smiles, a mix of relief and kindness. "No problema. Crowds... too much sometimes."
Amelie, now recognizing the player, gasps. "Oh my God, you're Marc Guiu!"
Marc nods, a bit shyly. "Sí, that's me."
Amelie is practically bouncing with excitement. "I can't believe this! You're amazing on the field! I'm a huge fan!"
Marc chuckles. "Gracias. You... big fan?"
Amelie nods eagerly. "Huge fan! Emma is still learning to love football," she says, laughing a little.
Marc looks intrigued. "Learning is good. Football... best way."
I smile, starting to feel better. "I think I just needed to sit down for a bit. Thank you for noticing."
Marc shrugs modestly. "No big thing. Important you are... okay."
As he prepares to leave, he hesitates, looking back at me. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart skip a beat. "You stay here," he says, his voice firm. "I come back... check on you."
I blink, taken aback by his seriousness. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," he interrupts, his eyes locking onto mine. "Stay."
The match continues, and Marc is soon called to substitute in. Before he leaves, he turns to Amelie and me. "You two... enjoy game. I play... for you," he says with a wink, but his eyes linger on me a moment longer than necessary, creating a charged moment of tension.
We watch as Marc runs onto the field, the crowd erupting in cheers. Amelie is practically bouncing with excitement beside me. "I can't believe Marc Guiu just helped us! This is incredible!"
As the game progresses, I find myself paying more attention to Marc's movements on the field. He plays with skill and determination, and I can see why Amelie is such a big fan. But there's something more, a magnetic pull that keeps drawing my gaze back to him. Every time he makes a significant play, I feel an inexplicable connection, as if he's playing just for me.
The match ends with a thrilling victory for Chelsea, and the crowd goes wild. As the players celebrate, Marc glances over at where we are standing, his eyes finding mine in the sea of people. He nods subtly, and I feel a shiver of anticipation.
After the game, as we're getting ready to leave, a stadium official approaches us. "Marc Guiu asked me to give you this," he says, handing me a note along with two ticket passes.
I open the note and read: "Hope you are feeling better. If you want, you and your friend can use these passes for a stadium tour. -Marc"
Amelie squeals with excitement. "Emma, you have to text him! This is amazing!"
I smile, feeling a strange mix of excitement and curiosity about the kind footballer who helped me. "Okay, I will."
As we walk out of the stadium, I can't help but feel like this is just the beginning of something special. The tension between us was palpable, and I wonder what will happen the next time we meet.
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