Something seemed to have shifted between Archer and I after our last conversation by the fireplace. It was like we were both hyper aware of what we'd said to each other, and terrified of who might confess what next.
All through the week we'd been stepping on eggshells around each other and it was honestly getting so tiring. I wasn't liking it one bit.
We were having our footy practice in the early hours of Wednesday when an overhead kick from Leslie sent our ball flying into the boys' side of the pitch.
"Wentworth!" Heady called out to me. "Go get the ball."
I sighed and ran over to the other side. I immediately spotted Archer standing a few feet away from me, wearing a tank top which made his lean biceps stand out a bit too much for my comfort. They almost distracted me from the fact that he had our ball in his hand.
Great, I thought. Another confrontation I didn't need.
"Um, that's our ball," I said. Gosh, I sounded so lame.
Archer stared at me. He looked a bit flustered, as if something was making him uncomfortable.
I raised my eyebrows and looked at him expectantly. "So...care to return the ball?"
He snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, yeah of course." He threw the ball and I caught it effortlessly. I jogged back to our side of the pitch, only to see all my teammates smiling at me from ear to ear.
I frowned. "What's so funny?"
Evelyn chuckled. "Oh, nothing. He was just checking you out, that's all."
"Who?"
"Who else? Your ex boyfriend."
I gasped. "He was not!"
Miranda, who was a year below me, patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, Vivian, one day you'll be able to get over your blindness."
I rolled my eyes at her. "Sod off."
After that, Heady called out to us to quit our chit chatting and we went on with our training. We had a match against St Margaret's Sixth Form College the next week, thankfully at home, and we needed to train extra hard before it.
But even then I couldn't shake off the conversation I'd had with the girls. Was Archer really checking me out? Why would he do that? He wasn't supposed to do that.
I gave my head a slight shake. No, they must've been mistaken. He couldn't be.
°
Next week came and soon enough, we had our match against St Margaret's. I was usually not a nervous wreck but this time, I was a bit scared too, since our opponents were pretty strong. They had a solid defence and one of their strikers was really lethal.
Heady gave us the much needed pep talk before we ran out onto the pitch. We gathered in a huddle and Evelyn, our captain, gave us another short but motivational speech before she went for the coin toss.
The next ninety plus minutes were a blur. I ran like my life depended on it, and ended up providing an assist after thirty minutes. But soon afterwards St Margaret's scored and equalised.
At the death, when the score was still 1-1, I was sure we were going to end the game tied. It was already 90+4 minutes and we'd got 5 minutes of added time.
But then we got a free kick, from almost the same position as the one where I'd taken the free kick during training before our Christmas holidays, to show Archer.
I gulped, as the other girls looked at me. "Viv, this is yours to take, c'mon," Evelyn said.
I nodded. Even though I wasn't a prolific striker, I was the best in our team at taking set pieces, like penalties and free kicks. So I had to take this one too and I just had to score. This was our last bloody chance.
I took a deep breath and positioned the ball. All around me I could hear the shouts and cheers of the spectators. Angie and Kate were screaming their lungs out, because I could make out their voices even from here.
I closed my eyes for a second, blocking out all the sound around me. Then when I opened them once again, I found myself angling my body to aim at goal.
The referee blew on his whistle.
I kicked.
The ball soared high and curved almost perfectly midair. It was going into the net for sure.
But then the goalkeeper's hands made contact with the ball. My heart sunk.
But just as I felt my last hopes slipping away, the ball slipped away from her hands instead, just out of reach. It went and touched the net in one final, oh-so-sweet strike.
I turned and ran towards ny teammates, jumping on Lucy's back, all the girls thumping and screaming and hugging, as the ref blew his whistle to signal the end of the match, and our victory.
I couldn't possibly be any happier than this. Victory was sweet indeed.
Later that day, when I'd showered and freshened up, our classes were already over. Our team had been excused from our lessons for today because of the match, and so I only had to go through the ordeal of sitting with Archer in the study for five hours.
Sure, no big deal. It's not like we're being awkward and tense around each other or anything.
I braided my hair and threw on a jumper before making my way to the study. A minute later, Archer arrived too.
"Hey," I said.
He nodded at me as he sat down, taking out his books. I assumed that was the end of our so called conversation and returned to my work.
But apparently he didn't think that.
"I was at the match today."
I looked up from my papers. "Oh, you were?" I don't know why, but my cheeks were starting to heat up. Maybe it was the warmth in the room? Or maybe it was the fact that I was a bit nervous as to what he had to say about the game? About my performance?
Stupid Viv, why do you care about what he thinks anyway?
He looked at me, his golden-brown eyes glittering in the yellow light. "You were good today. Especially that FK."
Darn you, cheeks!
I turned back to my papers. "Um, thanks. I'm really happy with our performance today."
"Yeah you should be. You girls played very well. In fact, I think you should play in a more attacking position. Why don't you try being a striker? Say a false nine position?"
I shook my head, getting into the technicalities. "No, look. That wouldn't be good because I know I don't play my best in that position. Heady's already tried it. And my right foot is a bit weak which is why I can't play in the left wing either. I could do right wing since my left foot is strong but I feel much more comfortable in attacking midfield. It gives me space to roam the field a bit more and connect defense and attack as creatively as I can. And I know that when I'm being creative, I work best."
All through my little monologue, Archer was listening intently, and at the last line, he cracked a smile.
"Yeah, I mean, your paintings are proof enough of how creative you can get."
I smiled when he smiled. It was a genuine smile, and for once, the dimple on his left cheek showed. It made him look so much sweeter.
"The ones you've seen aren't that great but oh well."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, are you kidding?"
I gave him a flat look. "No."
"Your paintings speak for themselves. When I first saw them at your house I remember thinking, damn, they're out of this world. They're beautiful, Vivian. Anyone with eyes can see that."
He was looking at me and speaking so passionately that for a moment I was transported back to the past, back to a time when we weren't sworn enemies.
He almost sounded like that.
He seemed to realise exactly how enthusiastic he sounded because his cheeks flushed a little and he cleared his throat. "I mean-uh, your paintings are good. So don't...um...don't think otherwise."
My lips turned up involuntarily. "Wow," I whispered. "I didn't realise you loved my art this much."
His look was almost melancholy. "I did."
Somehow, I had a feeling he wasn't talking about my paintings anymore.
a/n: lemme go ahead and quickly break down some football terms i used which might not be familiar to all.
at the death: towards the very end of the match, when just a few precious minutes/seconds are left.
added time: a few extra minutes added at the end of the regulation time of 90 mins, to make up for any interruptions in the match (like fights between players, injuries, getting red/yellow cards, substitutions etc). usually added time is about 3-4 or sometimes even 5-6 mins.
set piece: free kicks/penalties/corner kicks
false nine: an attacking position in football, where a forward (usually a player wearing the #9 jersey) plays a bit deeper in the field than the other 2 strikers.
I'd love to give more info on why a false nine is called a false nine, but that would make this author's note very convoluted and i have a feeling most of you would skip through it lol. so if you really are curious you can go look it up on google!