World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

23.0

THE ELIMINATION

"Okay, right now I need you to do something for me," he sounds serious.

"I can't make them score another goal, if that's what you are about to ask."

"Shit, that's what I needed," he sighs, "Kidding, it's something else."

"What is it?"

"The match will be over soon, so can you please stop being all hot and pretty so I can focus on the game? Because I'm having a hard time trying to do so and I need to watch this."

"I'll try but I can't promise anything," I joke, "I've tried being ugly before but that's too hard."

"If they score another goal, you are so going to get kissed again," his eyes are on the court now, "And it's not going to be as silly as the other kiss this time. I'll leave you breathless."

"That's not an easy task," my eyes are on him because I couldn't care less about the stupid match. Wait, I do care now. I want them to score. Come on, England, Score for me!

I get another two cups of beer and then the stadium goes crazy when Henderson misses the chance to score, "Fuck you!" I yell without even thinking about it before.

"Someone wants another kiss," he smirks at me.

"What? I just want them to score," I blush, "I'm British too."

"No!" he gets scared when a Uruguayan player gets too close to score their second goal, "I'm dying here. What if we lose? I don't want this to be over yet."

"Me neither," I mumble and, this time, I'm actually focused on the game. I'm enjoying it very much because the tourist gives me some rules explanations along the way. He knows so much about football and, I know I already said it before, but I love it. "Why did they stop him? That could have been a goal," I complain.

"Offside," he laughs at me but I don't get offended because he laughs in a very sweet way. I usually hate it when people notice I don't know enough stuff about something but with him, I do not care. He tries to explain what this stupid rule is about but I don't understand anything.

"That's lame. So they are basically punishing the player for being too fast," I say, very convinced, "It's not his fault if the other team's players are slow."

"Tell FIFA, not me," he laughs again, "It's kind of turning me on to see you so interested in this match."

"Well," I get closer, "I want my kiss."

"Something tells me that you are going to get it anyways so I wouldn't worry about it too much," he says without looking at me, "I'm dying to see what your reaction is right now but If I stare at your dimples, I'll get hypnotized and I'll miss the end of the game."

"Let's change the promise," alcohol starts talking, not me, you know, "If England wins, we go all the way tonight."

"Hey," he turns to me with a frown, "I'm not that easy, Styles. You are going to have to work really hard to get summa this."

"I'm too pretty for hard work," I laugh, "Let's leave that to these guys," I point to the court, "If they win, I win summa this," I mock him.

"I don't know," he goes back to stare at the game again, "Okay, I guess I'll sacrifice for the team then."

"Come on, England!" I yell to the players and then turn around to see what his reaction is.

"You are such an ass," he laughs so much that he kind of snorts at some points. Aw, that's cute. What? I did not just say Aw. You are wrong so shut up.