I was more nervous than usual on the drive up to the Molineux. Headphones on and music blasting, I ignored my teammates as we trudged along the highway towards Wolverhampton. Fran was sitting next to me: we were in a better place than we had been the previous week, but things were still a bit uncomfortable. Today it suited me having a still slightly moody Fran at my side, though, because it meant she was just as unenthusiastic to chat as I was.
When we pulled up at the stadium, my heart was pumping my body full of adrenalin already. After the Valencia game I'd assumed Frank would start me in the Wolves game, even if I didn't want to admit it to anyone, so it didn't come as much as a surprise when he called my name out in the starting line up on the drive. Kyle wasn't starting, which did come as a surprise considering he trained normally the whole week and claimed his ankle was fine, and with him on the bench was Elena Flores. The Spaniard had been battling with hip pain in the week, so Victor Dubois' name in place of hers wasn't too shocking, but it seemed weird heading out to warm up without my other fullback.
I followed Sam's drills quietly and determinedly. It was hard not to let my eyes wander to the other side of the pitch: I'd avoided Emma's company in the tunnel after sprinting out before the Wolves' team gathered, but it was hard not to notice her just a few yards away. As a defensive midfielder and a left fullback, I was preparing for our paths not to cross much during the game itself, but even that thought was failing to comfort me now.
The rest of the dressing room was merry and excitable back inside. Frank had fired us up appropriately, leaving the mood different to previous games: it felt like some kind of pressure had been lifted off us after the midweek loss and now the team was keen to just enjoy the game today. I could feel the energy around me, but the lively attitude of my teammates wasn't rubbing off on me in the same way.
I'd just pulled my match shirt over my shoulders and was tugging my boots on when Mason came to sit down next to me. During the warm up and even the bus ride up I'd felt his gaze on me, but we hadn't spoken much today at all. Now, though, his hand rested on my shoulder.
"How you feeling, Hart?" His voice was low, thankfully; I didn't want the rest of the team knowing how scared shitless I was.
I shrugged one shoulder up. "I don't know. Weird."
"You'll be fine." He squeezed my shoulder as I sat up straight. Meeting his gaze, the surety in them momentarily numbed my stresses. "It's just another game, yeah?" I found myself nodding. "I know it's crap advice, but just try not to think about her, okay?"
"Trying," I mumbled with a weak chuckle. Understanding came over his brown eyes.
"It'll be over before you know it and then you guys can have a laugh after the game."
I smiled at Mason's attempt to calm me down as the bell rang loudly throughout the changing room, telling us it was time to line up. Jumping to a stand, Mase held out a hand to pull me up, too. He gave me one more reassuring smile before we followed a cheering Emiliano to the tunnel.
I could hear my pulse in my ears as I came to a stop behind Annika. Georgiana Alfonso, the Wolves captain, was visible next to Emiliano, but the rest of the team was still meandering out of the home changing room. My attention was focused forwards and not on the rest of the team when I felt a hand grabbing mine for a moment.
My heart dropped as I turned to my left and saw Emma already a pace in front of me. Looking over her shoulder, her face twisted into a quick smile. I did the same, more relieved than anything else from her small gesture. A touch on my shoulder from Mason made me smile; knowing that he'd seen Emma's action, too, somehow put me more at ease. Swallowing back what agitation was left in my system, I vowed to take Mason's advice and try to play the game like any other.
As it turned out, I played one of the best games of football I could remember. Well, the whole team did: at half time we were a measly one nil up, which said nothing for the amount of chances we'd had, but come the end of the game, we'd knocked in three more goals and kept our clean sheet. The reality of the smashing started setting in towards the eighty-fifth minute though and where the spirits of the away fans were only rising with time, mine were dampening. Of course I was overjoyed with the performance of the team, but beating my best friend's team this badly still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
When the final whistle went, I couldn't tell if I was relieved or upset. We could have easily scored another, so in some way I was glad to be walking off, but at the same it meant that I now had to face Emma.
The stadium was emptying out but loud cheers sounded from the away stand. Emiliano came to high five me; Annika jumped onto my back. Mason shot me a worried glance over his shoulder as I trudged to the despondent Wolves team. Emma's blonde hair was easy to spot, her dismayed face anything but to look at.
Barely registering the handshakes from the first Wolves players I met, I moved towards where Emma was seemingly arguing with one of their centre backs. Mason was a few paces in front of me and, surprisingly, she shooed her teammate away and gave him a big hug. My stomach warmed as she laughed and met my eyes over Mason's shoulders. I meekly smiled at the pair as Mason turned to see me, too, and a moment later he was walking away from Emma, towards me.
"Well done, Hart." He held out a hand that I slapped.
"Thanks, Mitchell." If he was referring to the game, my congratulations to him would have to wait until the changing room. But I had a feeling he was referring to how I dealt with Emma.
"Hart." My attention was drawn back to Emma as she giggled, any previous dismay gone. "Nice."
"Emma," I whined, holding open my arms. It felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders as she ran into the hug, still giggling.
"You were great, Becks," she was gushing. "Like, wow. No offence, but I had no idea you guys could play like that."
"Thanks?" I laughed. "You played well too, Em. Seriously."
She scoffed as she pulled away, rolling her eyes. "Please, you don't need to pretend we were any good today." When I tried to interrupt, she just shook her head. "We were rubbish and you guys really deserved that."
I stared her down intently, trying not to let my sympathy show. She stared right back, her eyebrow raised cheekily. "Sorry."
"Shut up!" she cried back, hilarity behind her words. "You don't need to be sorry, Beck." She pulled me closer again, sweaty hair pressing against my cheek. "You do have to swap shirts with me, though."
I left her a moment later, noticing the rest of my team thanking the fans. Running over with Emma's shirt in my hands, a shiver ran down my spine as a cold breeze hit me, a reminder that despite the sun, winter was well on its way. Joining Kyle, who had come on for the last twenty minutes, at the end of the line, I clapped my hands above my head with a beam, finally revelling in our victory.
"Beck, man, where is your shirt?" Abby teased as we broke apart.
Fran came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "You're freezing!"
"Here." Mason, on the other side of Fran, was pulling off the warm up top he'd clearly just put on.
"I can wait, don't worry," I chuckled.
With hot cheeks, though, I accepted it after his insistence. My sweat stuck to the thin material, making it tricky to pull on, and I was just tugging it over my stomach when I met Emma again at the front of the tunnel. I informed my teammates that I would meet them inside and watched with a warm feeling in my stomach as they entered the changing room, laughing at something Kyle had said.
"So, I'll be in London tomorrow," Emma said. Beaming, I grabbed onto her hands.
"Please can we do something? I'm free all day."
"Well, yeah, I'm not going all the way there just to see my parents." She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. "I'm having breakfast with them, so it'll have to be after."
We stood for a while longer making plans and briefly catching up. I was genuinely impressed with her behaviour: I wasn't sure I would have been acting as maturely as she was if Chelsea had been beaten four nil, even if we deserved the loss. Still, though, I was more than happy to go along with her conduct.
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for the remainder of the day. Early kick off meant we would get back to the city not too late, which brightened my mood even more. Sitting on the bus with Kyle and Mason on the way back, an endless game of Uno between us, it was hard not to feel the most overwhelming feeling of ease.