Soccer imagines

•marco verratti•

By fortheloveoffutbol

To say I was on the edge of my seat right now was an understatement. My body was nearly shaken by nerves as I kept tapping the heel of my bright pink Nike Air Max Thea's to the concrete flooring underneath me. At least my bouncing eyes were covered by my gold-rimmed Ray Ban sunglasses. They couldn't quit following the fast movement on the court as I continued watching that lime green ball I had spent so much of my life watching bounce back and forth across the clay courts.
Roland Garros was practically home for me.
It was where I spent a lot of time though not actually playing but watching instead. That was the norm when your brother was Andy Murray. I think at this point of my life I had created a permanent tan on my skin from having spent so much time watching these outdoor tournaments.
My brother looked much more relaxed on the courts than I was. I was teetering on the edge of my seat having nearly fallen out a few times as well when things got a little too chippy for my taste. The first set had lasted nearly an hour between him and his opponent and I was sure my heart had been beating irregularly fast that entire time. Sitting in the coaching corner was detrimental to my health.
I could hear a few murmurs in French around me as if everyone was focusing in on something or someone. When I turned to look over my shoulder I realized what it was.
Some of the PSG players had entered the complex and even the tennis enthusiasts couldn't help but let their eyes stray from the match and to the champions taking their seats.
I was used to seeing them so for me it was just like any other day in my life and though it could be assumed I was used to seeing famous athletes because my brother was one of them, that actually wasn't the case.
Marco Verratti and I had history.
And not the sort of history that suggested I was one of the many women in his 'bag'.
No.
The sort of history that made it seem as if we were on our way to marriage and kids and that big house with the large backyard.
That sort of history.
But things didn't quite pan out that way. I moved to Los Angeles, he stayed in Paris and we moved on with our lives. We weren't the sort of bitter exes that ignored each other though. Whenever I had the urge for random conversation, I had no trouble contacting him so when I saw him now taking his seat, I gave a soft wave and smile in his direction.
A smile lit his face when he saw me and he changed his plans of sitting down with his team to now making his way over to me. I moved my bag from the open seat next to me so he could sit in that spot. As soon as he sat down I greeted him with two kisses on the cheek.
"Hi, Marco."
"Funny seeing you here."
I playfully rolled my eyes. "Well, you know, just checking out the talent," I said as I motioned to the courts.
He was lucky I loved him because he was currently distracting me from my brother's dominance.
"How is he anyway? Your brother."
"He's doing great. Feeling good, playing well. I'm a proud little sister," I grinned.
"I saw your little loverboy is close to losing," he chuckled.
I just rolled my eyes. Sometimes I told Marco a little too much like the story about the time I met Rafael Nadal one time and nearly passed out because ugh, his tanned skin, those muscles, that accent, that seemingly shy charm.
Marco never let me live that down.
"Yeah. I saw. I've been checking the scores on my phone," I said as I held up the unlocked device in my lap. "Speaking of scores...congratulations to you, champ. How many trophies is that now? 20?"
He entertained me with a laugh. "A bit of exaggeration but thank you."
I let my eyes go back to the match while Marco continued to talk, his eyes focused on the clay courts as well. "Hey, remember when we went to the coast? And we got that nice room by the beach?"
How could I forget? It was the best vacation of my life and my family and I went on a lot of vacations during my youth including that trip to Disney World where I had an allergic reaction and ended up with puffy cheeks for days.
I would never forget that.
The trip with Marco to a beach resort was memorable for positive reasons though. It was our anniversary and he insisted on surprising me with some big gift. I was thinking a nice tennis bracelet or another luxurious gift of his choosing but he instead had the idea of a four day vacation in mind instead.
He didn't tell me our destination, not even once we got off the plane but when we got to the location my breath was taken away. It was a gorgeous setup and it seemed he had put a lot of thought into it because when I opened the door to our bedroom for our stay, there was a box of my favorite chocolates just off nearby.
For me, it was the little things.
Couple that with the beach bed we shared on the quiet, deserted portion of the beach and it was four days I would never forget.
"Yes. I remember. Why?"
"I'm going back. You should come."
Now it was my turn to laugh and I couldn't help but let my attention divert from the match. "What? You're taking a romantic getaway trip alone?"
"I'm not going alone if you come with me. Come on. It'll be like old times only minus the romance of course." He gave me a sly grin. I knew if I went anywhere like that with him it would turn romantic no matter how much we would like to think we were simply platonic friends now. Some feelings died hard.
"Was this your plan all along? Buy the tickets and reserve a room then show up here to convince me into it?"
"Yeah because I come to tennis matches all the time," he said sarcastically.
That was a good point. He didn't. I usually dragged him to most of them during the stint of our relationship.
"I still feel like you have a trick up your sleeve."
"You're absolutely right. I'm planning a romantic getaway so I can propose to you there. Showing things coming full circle."
I knew he was joking though part of me wouldn't put it past him if he ran this scenario through his mind a few times.
I didn't have time to entertain his joke with an answer as loud cheers erupted around us. I looked over to the action and saw that my brother had just closed out the set, everyone celebrating his victory. I stood up from my seat and enthusiastically cheered, Marco following though his claps were much more calm.
"Well it seems, Mr. Verratti, that my brother may be moving on to the semifinals and I'm his coach. I can't just leave my player."
"No you like to think you are his coach just like you thought you were mine."
I was a pretty intense fan.
"Same thing," I shrugged. "When is this little trip?"
"Whenever you want it to be."
I laughed some. "Oh yeah. You definitely have something up your sleeve."
"Just give me a yes or no, Princess. If it's a no let me down gently."
With an amused grin, I made him suffer through a few minutes of just my silence and smile before saying, "Okay. I'll go."
"Seriously?"
I nodded. "Seriously. I'll figure out the date eventually."
"And I'll be waiting."