breathe | r lewandowski

8

I sat on the bench, my eyes narrow as I stared out onto the pitch. We were losing 1-0, 55 minutes played and the game was screaming out for me to be substituted in, but maybe that was just me being big headed.

The goal had come from a corner, sloppy defending and an awful mishandle from Manuel meant the ball ended up the in back of the net, but I wasn't particularly phased. The rest of the bench went up into hysterics, shouting and screaming at the team to get their act together, whereas I stayed sat down, biting the skin around my nails in the freezing cold.

Joshua was getting ready to be substituted on, bouncing on the touch line by the official prepping the electric board with his shirt number in green, Arjen's in blood red.

My eyes wandered to the side, watching Pep shout down Joshua's ear until he winced and jumped away from the penetrating volume of Pep's voice. I laughed, only a light chuckle, but I still laughed.

As for the rest of the game, I may as well have closed my eyes and had a power nap until the 92nd minute when Mario scuffed a shot past the opposition's keeper. It was an incredibly messy goal, but the way he leapt up from the ground and ran to the corner flag with the other 10 men in red on the field behind him, you'd think he'd scored the winning goal in the Champions League.

But no, he'd scored a bad equaliser in a pre-season friendly against an amateur side in the middle of China in the freezing cold. Not quite as stylish as his World Cup winning performance if you ask me.

Everyone trudged down from the dugouts, shaking the hands of the players we'd never heard of before retreating to the dressing room which had heating, allowing me to slowly defrost.

I changed out of my kit, ignoring the post match speech from Pep, pulling out my phone and checking for any messages from Dylan. There was none.

Sighing, I left the changing room and sat in the common room with some of the staff whilst we waited for the rest of the team to shower and get dressed before we could get back to the hotel for the night.

I ignored Jagger, not looking her in the eye when I walked past her. We hadn't spoken since the hospital and I didn't think I'd be as infuriated as I was. She hadn't even said thank you for me saving her. She could've died. Well, she probably wouldn't have, but that's not the point.

She was sat in the corner on her phone, her thumbs moving furiously as she texted people. I guessed it was her boyfriend. I turned away and took a bottle of water from the waiter, downing most of it in no time to distract myself from looking at her. I didn't want to look at her, I despised her at that moment in time, but she was so intriguing that it was a natural impulse to guide your eyes to her body without even thinking about it.

The strength it took for me to not, was phenomenal.

"Oh my God!"

I lifted my head up from staring at my nails, my ears pricking up at the sound of a squeal. She ran to him, Jagger ran across the room into his arms as he lifted her up, spinning her around so gracefully it looked like she was weightless, like an angel. Her smile was beaming and her cheeks flushed a rosy pink colour as soon as he placed her back down on the floor, grabbing both cheeks with his hands and smashing his lips down onto hers.

I felt sick.

I hated couples, romance, chivalry and love. Any time Mario was around Ann-Kathrin and they kissed, I felt like I was being stabbed in the chest one thousand times, or walking over hot coals each time they hugged one another. I hated it. Why? I couldn't answer. Perhaps it was because I never had any of that. I push people away, don't let them get close to me and when I do, like I did with Dylan, they change and I begin to regret everything I ever said and ever did that was even remotely romantic.

But as they stood in each other's arms, only a few feet away from me, I felt physically hurt. Though looking at them caused me so much gut wrenching, fist clenching pain, I looked anyway.

I jumped to my feet. Barging the man in the shoulder as I hastily left the room and walked out into the corridor, ending up alone on a stairwell. I placed my hands on the wall, leaning on it at arms length with my head bowed, eyes squeezed shut as I levelled out my breathing as best as I could. Looking at them made me forget to even breathe it was that painful.

"Robert?"

"No."

"Robert what are you talking about?"

Her hand touched my shoulder and I flinched, pulling away from Jagger's grasp as she looked at me, her eyes filled with fear and something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"No. No I didn't want to see you at the hospital. No Pep didn't forget to tell me. No, I didn't just forget. No I didn't leave you all by yourself, I waited and waited until I couldn't wait any longer. And no, Jagger, I'm not okay."