I knew this was happening, but I thought with us losing, he would change his tactic, but it doesn't seem to be the case, and I’m glad for it.I want to prove that I…we belong with the rest of the squad.
“No fuck-ups.Play as a team.Protect each other.We are former European Champions and the media are touting some of you as Global Cup Champions.Prove it.And to the ones they’re saying are past it—prove them wrong!”
As impassioned speeches go, I’m not going to run through a wall, but I do feel inclined to run up a few sets of stairs.
I’m jumping up and down on the touchline, Kyle next to me.The Wembley crowd roaring us on once they see us.England expects, as the saying goes.The weight of a nation on our shoulders.Yeah—England expects, all right.They expect us to hit the ground running.I’m ready for it.
Our numbers go up, and the crowd serenades us with cheers.They’ve been clamoring for us.The typical media fan fair has helped whip up a storm, but I know we can match the hype.
“You ready?”I shout over to Kyle, trying to be heard over the noise.He smiles at me and nods.I give myself a moment to takehimall in, and then my head gets in the game.I step out onto the lush green grass, and a smile blooms on my face like wildflowers in a meadow.
The ball is hoofed toward me, and I head it down into Kyle’s path.He’s getting his shirt pulled by a defender, but he shakes him off.I try to keep pace with him, ready to expect the unexpected, as I watch him nutmeg an oncoming defender.The crowd are off their seats.He’s lining up to shoot, but he’s tackled from the side and goes down clutching his knee.Fuck.
I run over to him, “Are you all right?”I ask him, his face etched in agony.I signal to the bench, and the physio comes running over, bag in hand.The ref has stopped the play while he receives treatment.My heart is beating out of my chest.How can his dreams be taken away so quickly?So maliciously?I watch as the ref has a word with the offending player, and much to the chagrin of Wembley, he walks off without so much as a yellow card.I want to scream at the ref, but I know that will only end up with my name in the book.Everything is happening too fast.I want to go over and hold his hand, but, well, that would look sus as fuck.So instead, I watch.I watch as they help Kyle up and walk him toward the touchline.
My heart is still in my chest.This isn’t fair.The ref blows the whistle for play to resume.Not even a free kick?What the hell is this?I glance over to Kyle, and to my relief—and that of the whole of Wembley—he is asking the ref to come back on, to which the ref waves him on.My adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, but I can’t hide the relief on my face.
“I’m all good, clash of knees,” he says as he trots over to me.
“Had me worried for a moment.”
“Aww, you were worried about me?”he says, putting a hand to his chest.
“Yep, I was afraid after I got my hat trick you’d be long forgotten and you’d have to be my stylist after all.”
“You’re funny,” he says, smiling at me.
“I know,” I say, winking back.
The ball comes out to him, and he chips the ball over the midfielder, into my path.I look to lay him off again with a dip of my shoulder, sending the defender the wrong way.Kyle is waiting on the edge of the box; the goal is clear.I’m of two minds.
I pass the ball to him.The keeper rushes out to him, but Kyle is too quick and dinks it over his outstretched hands and into the back of the net.
Euphoria.
It might only be a friendly, but Wembley has come unglued.I race over to him with the rest of the squad, and we mob him.Not even five minutes into our England debut and, we have made an impact.Together.
I watch as the cameraman follows the movement of Kyle and myself.I smile for the camera, and he does his usual “I’m far too serious for this shit” look, and I melt inside each time he does it.I know how much this means to him.
Fifteen minutes later, and this time, it’s Kyle feeding me the ball.He sweeps a beautiful inswinging left footed cross into the area.I’m the quickest to react to it, rising above everyone to meet the ball with my head.I watch as it hits the back of the net with a satisfyingswish.
The feeling is electric.The crowd is buzzing.I don’t care that this is a friendly match that means little to nothing in the grand scheme of things.I’m in the England squad with my best friend, and we’ve set each other up, scoring the equalizerandthe winner.This is the stuff of dreams.
We’re mobbed by our teammates again, and I could get used to this.
I flash my nails to the camera and point to the badge.
“Together,” I say instinctively, before heading back to my starting position.
The whistle blows for the final time, and we head back victorious.What a game, what a feeling.The boss’ team talk is drastically different this time, heaping praise on the team and then signaling both Kyle and myself out, telling us we looked starving—in the most complimentary way.The best part of this?We have another game, and I get to go back to the hotel room with Kyle and sleep in the same bed.
Chapter 22
Kyle
“I don’t think we should sleep together,” I hear myself saying.“You heard what the boss said.We need to be focused.”
I don’t want to look at AJ.I know I’ve broken him again, and I can’t help it.I can’t help saying the things I say.At times it feels like there is something inside me, sabotaging all that is good.It wants me to suffer.It wants me to feel alone and unloved.And yet, I feed it.I nurture it.And I don’t dare to admit this at night, but I think, sometimes, I crave it.I need to keep my focus on my family.Whatever keeps them safe.Whatever the costs to my personal life.The conflict inside me is begging me to be brave.But I can’t.I’m already fighting enough battles in my mind.
