Cosmo's Luck // 𝐊𝐚𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐳

2.

The elevator doors pinged open with a satisfying noise, revealing the first group of Chelsea members. They smoothly strolled out onto the navy carpet, eyeing the white ropes lined on either side to give the entrance a swish red-carpet like appeal. Louisa greets them in her formal customer service voice whilst also showing signs of friendliness and personality. Beside me, Aidan forms his lips like a whistle and gasps inwards, gently rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. He sidesteps over to me a little, then leans in towards my ear whilst continuing to gawk at the man standing with Louisa.

"That's Roman Abramovich." Aidan quietly informs me.

"I thought you supported Liverpool?" I whisper back.

"I might be a raging Liverpool fan, but you can't blame a nineteen-year-old for getting excited about meeting Chelsea's top dog." Aidan grins, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Aidan, shut up and get back in position!" Ollie hisses through gritted teeth, causing Aidan to hastily slip back to where he was. "You're lucky we have background music on because I don't think Abramovich would want to be called a dog!"

Louisa guides the 3 men up to the bar, talking them through our vast selection of drinks and what we have to offer. She notices Aidan's keen anticipation, giving him a cheerful smile whilst the men aren't looking in her direction. Then, once they look back and ask to order, she summons our youngest bartender forward, who looks like he could explode any second. He steps forward as casually as possible, clearing his throat and introducing himself. I look down the bar towards Grant and Ollie; Ollie looks to me and holds back a hushed chuckle, shaking his head before looking forward again. I peep around Aidan and the Chelsea members to see who's next.

Our next guests are five men who all look like your typical middle-aged men. I've also noticed a reoccurring theme in their outfits; which seams to be black and white suits. This time, it's Ollie's turn to gasp. I recognise one of the taller men as Chelsea's current manager, Thomas Tuchel. Guessing by the age group of his companions, these guys must be part of management. What part of it they are I don't know, but they all look highly important and ready to have a break from their careers. Just like last time, Louisa introduces herself, then leads them to the bar and talks through any drinks they question. Then, she beckons Ollie forward to serve them, and Aidan finishes serving and charging his group just as Ollie starts.

"I have never felt more pressured in my life!" Aidan quickly comments before standing back in his position. "Oh my God that's Thomas Tuchel and Arno Michels!"

"Could your voice go any squeakier!" I mimic him quietly, causing him to hold back a little fit of laughter. "Tell me who's in next please?"

The elevator tings once again, and a group of five men stride in with a little bit more enthusiasm than the others. They act like everyday people rather than professionals who need to keep themselves controlled and morally correct. Aidan scans them all, his eyes picking them off one by one.

"Benjamin Weber, Henrique Hilario, James Russel, Matt Birnie and Adam Burrows." He lists of the names effortlessly before returning to his spot. "They're coaches, not players."

That's actually quite impressive!

The last of the management team are sent over to Grant, meaning only one thing. Me and Aidan, and potentially Ollie, if he hurries up serving rather than chit-chatting, are left to serve the squad. My nerves finally catch up with me, balling in my stomach and turning it over and over like a washing machine. Aidan looks towards me, and we both start to giggle like children as we feel the exact same way.