Play like a culé: A Cristian Tello Fan Fic

Chapter 3

María's P.O.V.

I cried in my room for a while because I wasn’t ready to let him go. But at the same time I knew I had to because I would get nothing else from him. He’d sounded pretty sincere before I left his room saying he wanted to see me again. But I decided not to get fooled. I’ve been fooled many times before and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. I turned away from him with no way to reach him and it sort of makes wonder if I dreamt everything. His touch, his scent, his body…No. That happened. And I didn’t regret it. But I also knew I’d never forget it either. I didn’t know how he felt but I felt amazing when I was with him. I trust him. I can talk to him about anything and I know he’ll understand. I feel like we have a strange connection. Whatever the case, I’d have to shake him off because the odds of us seeing each other again were a million to one.

I decided to go hang by the pool for while. I went downstairs in my bathing suit and sun-bathed for a while. After that, I went for a swim just to see if I could get him out of my head but it seemed impossible. I just kept hearing his voice, feeling his touch, smelling his scent… Before I knew it, it was 3:00PM and my check-out time was 4:00PM. So I left the poolside and went upstairs to pick up my stuff. I decided I didn’t want to stay here a second longer so I went downstairs to the receptionist for an early check-out. “Hi. I’d like to check-out. I’m room 409. María Méndez.” The girl behind the desk instantly looked up from her computer screen when she heard my name. “María?” “Yes.” I was extremely weirded out by her reaction. What was this about? “Somebody left this for you and asked me to let you read it before you check-out.” she said, looking a bit down. I smiled, thanked her and sat on one of the nearby couches to read it. The envelope had the hotel seal on it and I couldn’t help but wonder…Could it be? I opened it, read it and didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, I was dying to see him again. But on the other, this would just make the pain worse when he kicks me to the curb. “Much love”. That’s how he signed off. I went back up to my room to think about it. I turned it around in my head various times and decided to go. To give him a second chance. I wanted to know where this could go. Worse-case: he’ll shrug it off as mere attraction and go back to his girlfriend. Best case: who knows? I wanted to find out. It’s almost 5:00PM so I take a quick shower and get ready. I decide on a short, strapless floral dress and some wedges. I leave my bags in my room, take only my purse and the ticket and run out the door. I go by the receptionist, pay for another night and take off in a taxi towards Teddy Stadium in Jerusalem.

Cristian's P.O.V.

Still no answer from her. It’s an hour before the game and soon enough, we won’t be allowed electronic devices. We’re off the bus and in the locker room before I know it. We’re asked to turn all our devices off, put them in our bags and change. I check my cell one last time and still no answer. I put my phone away as requested and the tactical speech was a blur. I wasn’t sure what the coach wanted me to do. I could only think about her and how I’ll never see her again. I didn’t even have the strength to look at the player’s box and check. My heart would only break more. I wouldn’t look. Ever.

María's P.O.V.

I texted him during my ride but I realized it was 5:25PM and he must be in the pre-match warm-up. Maybe he’ll look up and see me in the box. It’s the only hope I have as I step out of the taxi, pay the driver and give the man at the entrance my ticket. The stadium is almost full as I look at the field and it’s empty. The warm-up is done and the players are in the tunnel waiting to come out. I make my way to my chair which is in the seventh row, close to the middle. There’s a man beside me and beside him, a young boy that’s looking away. I sit next to the old man and he smiles at me. Something about him seemed familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I noticed the number 21 on his chest. Álvaro Vázquez’s number. It wasn’t until the boy looked my way that I realized it was his family. The man was his father and the kid, his brother. “Hi, are you Álvaro’s father?” “Yes, and this is his brother Raúl.” “Yeah. I recognized him instantly. I’m a huge fan of ‘La Rojita’.” “Really? But you’re not from Spain, are you?” “No. I’m from Puerto Rico.” “Wow. You know about U-21 squads over there?” “Of course. Not many of us but the ones that follow them are huge fans.” “And what brings you to the players’ box?” “Uh, I’m friends with Cristian Tello.” “Oh, I never heard of that rascal have a friend who’s a girl. They’re always something more, if you know what I mean.” He bumps me in the arm with his elbow and I smile at him. Raúl interjects: “Between you and me, the man’s had more than his share of women.” he says and my heart completely sinks. “But he’s never invited any of them to a game. Not even any of his official girlfriends. You must be really special.” he smiles at me and I smile back, a bit more calm and with hopes that he’s right.

The players come out and the anthems are played. He doesn’t look this way for a second. It’s almost like he’s outright evading looking at the player’s box. Before long, the referee blows the whistle and the game is underway. Cristian doesn’t look as good as he did on past games. He seems a bit slow. After the first seven minutes, Spain is able to put the first one in. A cross from Morata, who had gone down the whole left wing and into the area, to Thiago who put the ball in. Cristian went over to congratulate him but I could tell he wasn’t himself. I confirm my suspicions when somebody tries a long ball and he gets a first touch on it but it slips away from his feet and escapes to the sideline. I cover my mouth with my hands and gasp. Álvaro Vázquez’s father looks at me with sad eyes. “It’ll be ok. He just needs to get his head in the game.” He gives me a half-smile and I try to return it in vain. Shortly after, Italy tied the game with a long ball to Ciro Immobile who ate Bartra up and scored over De Gea. A long while went by and on minute thirty-one, Koke kicked the ball over two Italian defenders inside the area and Thiago took it to score the second for Spain. We all got up from our chairs and cheered. Shortly after, Cristian tried a cross from the right but the pass is really bad. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I can’t let myself believe that this is because of me. At that point, he changed wings with Isco and, while he was passing by, I took the opportunity to stand up and scream at him with my hands cupped over my mouth: “Come on, Cristian. You’re better than this!” Everyone heard me because there was only a hum over the otherwise quiet crowd and he finally looked over. He saw me and his eyes became huge. He gave me a smile of relief and winked at me. I blew a kiss at him without caring what anybody else thought. I sat back down feeling relieved that he’d seen me. He seemed pleased. I hoped he was.

Cristian's P.O.V.

I can’t believe it. She came. I could tell it was her before looking over because I knew she was the only one who would have the guts to tell me that I was playing like crap. She was on the box this whole time. I felt recharged. Like I could absolutely do this. I ran down the left wing with all the speed I could muster and took the ball to the left post. And, before I knew it, I was on the ground.