Interlinked- Kyra Cooney-Cross

*TEN*

The next weeks were difficult to say the least.

Obviously, I still encountered Kyra everyday for training. However, instead of that familiar heartwarming, butterfly inducing smiles or hugs we used to share, I was just met with cold, soul-wrenching stares, like she wouldn't care if I just suddenly disappeared off the planet

In fact, I hadn't really spoken to any of my teammates for a while, trapped in my own self-isolating bubble, rejecting offers to go out for dog walks with Beth or nights out with Leah. I could sense some of them were worried, but I couldn't care less, the only thing I cared about was ignoring me day in and day out.

Katie was the hardest to distance myself from. She apologized time and time again and I always accepted it with a heavy heart, but under the layers, I felt my heart shattering piece by piece every time I would exchange a word with her, a reminder of the damage she'd caused between me and my Australian.

Game week loomed, a competitive match against Manchester United.

From cutting social strings, opened the opportunity to really focus on my personal development, finding time to spend extra hours on the pitch or gym. This motivation, shone through my game and I was lucky enough to win the Barclay's women's super league player of the month. Therefore, going into the match, I had been highlighted as the one to watch.

"You ready?" Leah nudged me in the locker room, bringing me out of one of my long gazes.

"Sure." I reply, pulling up my socks as we sat together on the bench.

"You sound confident." She teased, nudging my side slightly.

I took a deep breath, a smirk forming on my face, preparing to quip back when I caught Kyra's eyes. A spilt second passed where my heart dropped, right through to the floor, before she disconnected it, going back to chatting with Steph. As a result, my smile vanished, the storm cloud welcoming me again as I turned back to Leah.

"Let's just go."

The game was tight, drawn at 1-1, thanks to Alessia and Elizabeth Terland. We were locked together in the 90th minute as Caitlin was brutally tripped just outside the box, winning a promising free kick.

I backed away instinctively, watching Frida and Katie approach and discuss the tactics.

I didn't get far before Frida called me, "Evie, come here."

Sighing, I jogged back, expecting them to relay to me some instructions to tell the runners into the box.

"This is yours." Katie gulped, her Irish accent coming out thick. 

"I don't take a free kicks-" I start, with a confused tone.

Katie, ran her hand through her hair, hesitating before placing a firm hand on my shoulder, "It's a perfect Evie kick. It needs a right boot into the top corner. I believe in you."

The words echoed through my veins and brain, the confidence driving my reply, "Okay."

So here I was, stood over the ball, the stadium quiet in anticipation. Gunners from around the country, their atmosphere for the trip home on my shoulders. I placed my hands on my hips, glancing at the United keeper, licking the salty sweat off my lips.

The whistle blew, everything around me quiet, the shrill noise like a gunshot, sending adrenaline along my spine.

I kicked.

The next thing I knew, the net rippled and everyone just erupted.

My body remained motionless as I processed what I had just achieved, I scored, in the dying minutes.

Instinctively, I sprinted on my tired legs to the corner flag where fans were screaming, jumping up and down, chanting my name.

A hand hooked my waist, fitting perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. It was Kyra. She was hugging me, beaming as I clang onto her, the realization of how much I missed her, hitting me like a wave.

However, our intimate moment was interrupted by my other teammates, even the ones from the sub bench, submerging me. It was a moment I wasn't going to forget any time soon.

Later, after the commotion had died down in the celebrating changing room, I found myself walking over to Katie, a guilty look in my eyes for ignoring her for so long.

"Hey stranger." Katie hummed, as she folded her worn kit into a pile, grabbing a clean tracksuit from her kitbag.

"I-" I stutter, unsure of what to say before I plonk myself down next to her. "Thanks for letting me take the kick today, I owe you."

Chuckling, she slung an arm around my shoulder, bringing me into her side, "You owe me nothing mate. If anything I should be sorry about-"

She begins but I raise a hand to stop her, offering a warm smile, "Don't, I'm over it, of course I forgive you."

Talking of Kyra, my mind spins back to her, the way her hand fitted like glue on my tight shirt, the way we made eye contact for the first time in weeks, the way she was clearly so proud of me. I lifted my head up and scanned the bustling changing room, but there was no sign of her. Gulping, I realized she must still be out on the pitch, alone.

I wonder what or even who she was thinking about?

"I'm actually going to speak to her." I get up, announcing to the Irish women, my trainers hitting the floor with a triumphant thud.

"Evie, wait.." Katie began, almost frantically but I ignored her. I was ready. I was going to make things right between us.

Steaming out of the changing rooms, I began to walk down the tunnel with a sense of purpose. I wanted Kyra back. The overhead lights from the emirates, lit my way, signally I was close to reaching the turf.

My feet touched the soft sensation of grass, I scanned right, she wasn't there and when I turned left my gaze fell upon Kyra.

She wasn't alone.

Her lips were entangled with a girl, of similar size but adorning a Manchester united kit.

When they pulled away, my breath caught further still.

Kyra was kissing my England teammate, Grace Clinton.