Nights like this || Hector Fort

Chapter 4

Paris, the city of love.

On Saturday, July 27th, Amira Albon woke up to the sound of her phone ringing. 'Incoming FaceTime call from Jobe' her screen read. Amira turned on her side before answering the call, her eyes half open and her still half asleep. "Rise and shine Amira," Jobe sang, laughing at his friend's face and laughing even harder when his brother hit his leg in an attempt to run and say hi to his brothers friend.

"Jobe Samuel Patrick Bellingham, why the fuck have you just woken me up?" Amira spoke in irritation. She loved her sleep, when she was woken up against her will, she was actually extremely scary but Jobe knew he couldn't harm her from France so it's okay.

"I missed you, I haven't seen you in a while," He shrugged, this got him a glare from Amira. "You couldn't have texted to see if I was awake first," she questioned as she sat up, brushing her fingers through her hair once she took it out of its braid. "What's the fun in that?" Jobe asked scrunching up his face at the thought of not being able to inconvenience his sister figure.

Being more awake now, Amira continued to talk to Jobe as she looked through her luggage searching for something to wear to the Spain match that day. Finally settling on a pair of baggy jeans, a pink crop top and low pink Dunks. She shuffled around the room gathering makeup, perfume and a few other things before picking up her phone and making her way to the bathroom to get ready.

Finally, she was done. She decided to go light on makeup today since it was warm and she left her hair down. The whole time she got ready, Jobe chatted to her, updating her on everything and she did the same. Once she was ready, she said goodbye to Jobe and made her way to the living room waiting for Alex and Kika.

Typically, Amira wouldn't go to a game and 'support' Spain, especially not after the Euros but Kika had forced the two to attend the match claiming that "Spain is the closest thing to Portugal" and this was her way of supporting her country. All in all, it was a questionable statement but nonetheless, the trio made their way to the stadium sitting in the front row.

What Amira didn't expect was the fact that beside her, would be none other than Hector Fort. She prayed on the inside he didn't notice her and she begged Kika to switch with her but the girl refused saying that it was a 'sign' and she needed to 'accept fate'. Ultimately, Amira ended up sat next to Hector and tried to avoid looking at him at all costs. What kind of sick game was God playing with her? And what in the world is Hector doing with Lamine Yamal and like four other Barca players?

She had recognized the boys from the times she had attended El Clasico with the Bellinghams as well as from the Euros. Of course she was supporting England, loyal to her country and her friends. It was safe to say many of the people she surrounded herself were quite disappointed with England's loss, not including Carlos or Carmen. No, they could not be happier.

Beside her, Hector thought he was hallucinating when he had turned to his right and was faced with the same girl that had been living in his mind rent free for the last week. What the fuck?

Amira internally debated for a second, thinking about whether or not she should speak to the boy beside her. Going back and forth for a minute, she turned to look at him only to find him already staring at her. "Hi," she paused before putting a smile on her face, "fancy seeing you here pretty boy. What are the odds?"

Hector rolled his eyes, staring at her for a second before responding, "Hi pretty, honestly I didn't think I'd ever see your face again." Which was true, seeing her in Paris was the least expected thing. Maybe if she ever visited Barcelona again, but France? That was weird.