Hotspur Girl

Part 7

I woke up around eleven the next morning in a place that didn't smell like me. It smelled like summer and cologne. Sun streamed in through the window and onto my face. I stretched out my arm and touched something- someone. The sleeping man beside me suddenly rolled over and put his arm over my waist. I turned over and looked at Heungmin for a moment, letting the soft memories from last night wash over me. He looked so angelic in his sleep: his cheek squashed against the mattress and his lips slightly parted. He screwed up his face before opening his eyes and smiling at me. He put his hand on my face. "Morning, beautiful," he said, his voice sounding drowsy.
"Oh, hey, handsome." I leant in and kissed him all over again, and he held it for a while. I let go only to breathe, and we laughed. I sat up and pushed my hair out of my face. I was wearing what appeared to be one of his shirts. It smelled like him. I followed him down the stairs into an immaculate white kitchen. "Your house is beautiful," I say, looking around the bright and airy space.
"Thanks, but it's nothing compared to what some of the others live in. Like Dele's house, it's mental."

🌙🌙🌙
I kept his shirt, and he didn't ask for it back. I put it in my wardrobe, so people couldn't see it and start asking questions, but I knew it was there. I put on some more comfortable clothes:

I didn't do a lot that morning because I was still feeling a bit ill from last night. I went to training later on, though, and everyone acted like I'd died. I told them I overslept, avoiding telling the whole truth. Things like that spread like wildfire and I knew that Heungmin didn't like the media knowing too much about his personal life, and neither did I.

Our next match was going to be against Millwall. I'll admit that I was terrified of Millwall fans. The team is soft, and at the bottom of the league, but the fans are all irrationally angry. I had heard all sorts of stories about violent attacks from them. And it's much less secure at Cheshunt than playing in the safety of Wembley. But beggars can't be choosers, so I had to play. I was started again - I must have been doing something right.

As always, on the night before said match, I ate food with a lot of protein to keep me going tomorrow and went to bed early. I woke up at 6am and did my weights for an hour. I noticed how much fitter I was looking already. I put my hair up into a ponytail and pulled my team hoodie over my head on the way out the door. My stress had pretty much gone and I was really looking forward to this match.

When I got to Cheshunt, half of the players were there already, doing shuttle runs and cardio exercises. I was doing side-steps up the pitch with Coral when she asked me where I had got to the other night. "I saw you get in a car I didn't recognise and I got a bit scared."
"Oh, I just had to get a lift from..." I winked at her. "Somebody."
She gave me a knowing look. "Ah. I should have guessed."
"Who are you talking about?" Sarah asked. She was running to the left of me. I hadn't even seen her there.
"No one," I say quickly. "How's Alexa?" Talking about Sarah's two-year-old was an easy decoy.
"Oh, she's doing great, thanks for asking."
"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" I say quietly.
"Isn't she just? Hey, Audrey, do you think you'll have a child?"
"It would be nice, but I've already decided I don't."
"Shame. Still, it's a lot to take on."
I nodded. Karen called us in for a pep talk. I could already see the Millwall bus driving down the road.

"Alright, ladies," Karen said, clapping her hands together. She had a sort of commanding voice, one you just had to listen to. "I know what you're all thinking. You're thinking, it's only Millwall, we don't need to push. But the men thought the same thing before Wolverhampton, and Burnley, and Southampton. And look what happened." A murmur rippled through the group. "So yes, we do need to give it our all today. We can't afford a slip, girls. Now, let's go and show them what Spurs means." We all put our hands in and cheered. I was so ready.

Kickoff was late and it was getting cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling goosebumps as a spontaneous winds billowed across the field. I felt a little envious of the fans who were all in coats actually suitable for the weather, unlike my white shirt and shorts. Of course, this didn't stop me from feeling the pride you get when you wear the kit. I looked around at our opposition. They all looked like Millwall players alright. They were kicking the ground impatiently. I knew Karen wouldn't like that. I noticed a ginger defender just to my right. She was twisting a little hole in the grass with the heel of her boot. "Hey," I said, trying to make conversation. She stopped digging her hole to give me the single most horrible look I had ever received in my life. "Don't talk to me," she said assertively and went back to her hole.
"Ignore her," said Sarah, who was winging in front of me. "It's the Millwall energy." I laughed. She wasn't wrong there.

Eventually, much to everyone's relief, the whistle was blown and the match began. Jenna took control of the ball immediately, and made a cross to Coral, who clipped it up to me. I took a second to evaluate my choices, then made a long pass to Sarah. She took it and hammered it into the net, giving us an early start. Nice. The rest was a constant struggle - the team were aggressive and occasionally violent. If there was a chance in hell they'd get the ball, they would fight you to the death for it. It was an exhausting first half with no goals, four yellows to Millwall and no further goals. We stumbled into the changing rooms covered in bruises. I had one the size of a small planet just above my knee from where that one ginger defender had decided to kick me, and get this - I didn't even have the ball. The rest of my team shared my frustration as they too had endured a battering, with half of them being overruled by the ref. Wonderful. The sun did come out, though, which was nice. I sat next to Coral on the bench, who was holding an ice pack to her forehead where she had been elbowed out of the way. "I'm going to say it," she said. "I was not expecting that."
"Tell me about it," Baptiste said from across the room. She was circling her ankle around as she had rolled over on it trying to block a weirdly skinny forward. "But hey, we're still 1-0 up, right?" There was an optimistic little murmur.
Jenna patted her shoulder. "She's right. They may be violent, but it's only to hide that they're shit." Everyone laughed at this. So we ran back onto the pitch, still covered in bruises but full of hope.

The second half, if possible, was worse than the first. It started alright: Jessica scored from a corner eleven minutes in, which was a huge relief. But then, Hector was taking the the ball up to our side and everything went wrong. A stick insect of a player who looked about thirteen slammed into the side of her, sending her to the ground. Her knee rotated in a way knees definitely do not rotate and she was stretchered off. Lovely. Addison took the ball before anyone else could and crossed to Jessica, who looked sure to make a goal. However, a massive defender who may as well have been Harry Maguire appeared out of nowhere. I couldn't tell if it was deliberate, but her foot definitely hit Jessica's face, sending her flying and giving the opposition the ball again. I ran to her and helped her to her feet. There was blood trickling from her nose but she looked alright. "Are you okay?" I asked her.
"Yeah, just a bit dazed but I'll be fine."
Then, she got up and started running again. It was amazing to me - I knew I wouldn't have got up if it was me. She was coaxed off by the ref and by Karen after about ten minutes because it had got much worse. The match ended at long last, a 2-0 win. I got home, lay over my bed and fell asleep, still in my kit.