Chapter Three

July 16th, 2011 – Santa Fe, Argentina

I numbly felt Celia take my hand in her own as we watched Tevez miss his penalty shot. Leo had made his with ease, as had Gonzalo. But Tevez had missed, made a stupid mistake. A mistake which could cost the title – we watched as the last Uruguay player took his shot, sailing the ball in. Argentina had last.

Both of us let out shaky sighs of disappointment. Jorge too let out a breath he’d been holding.

Down on the pitch, Leo hugged his teammates, and though I couldn’t see for sure, I was fairly certain he was crying. My fingers fisted in my hoodie, trying my hardest not to lose it. Argentina had played their best, given the circumstances. I couldn’t help but hold disdain for Sabello, for trying to force the team to play in a style not their own. It had led to the disappointment of an entire nation.

I made my way back to the hotel, knowing it was time to start packing. With silent tears I placed everything in my suitcase. I wasn’t sure what I was more afraid of, facing Leo or Carlos. Neither seemed great.

I was just zipping up my suitcase when I heard a gentle knock on my door. I opened it to find Leo. He looked worse than I, and robotically walked in, sinking onto the sofa. “Leo,” I whispered, my shaking hand landing on his shoulder. He glanced at it, a frown appearing over his previously neutral face.

“You’re disappointed in me too,” he accused, “Everyone is…”

I frowned, “I am not disappointed in you at all! You played you’re hardest, and you can’t do more than that. Am I sad Argentina is out? Yes, I am. But I don’t put that on you. You’re not the only player on the team.”

He pulled back suddenly, “Why do you have to make me feel worse?” I stumbled several steps back, stricken.

I had opened my mouth, and proved Carlos right. I really wasn’t good for anything. Leo left the room, silence filling the void painfully. I knew I wasn’t far from Rosario, so I was just going to catch a bus back home. Leo wouldn’t have to deal with my presence then.

My legs gave out, and I gave into my sobs. I lost track of time, curled up on the carpeted floor. Eventually I had no more tears, and I attempted to quiet down.

The red circles, evidence of my tears, had just disappeared when there was a knock on my door. I opened it hesitantly, afraid it was Leo coming to say something else. But as I peeked through the crack, a hand shot out, shoving the gap open wider. “Hello, Lia.” “Carlos…” I gasped, desperately shoving at the door to close. But in a matter of seconds, he was inside, the door shutting behind him. “It’s been awhile, amor…” he said, advancing.


July 16th, 2011 – Barcelona, Spain

The sound of the fountain was soothing as I sat on the bench several meters away, taking in the beautiful sights of the city. Barcelona, no longer how long you lived there, it always offered new magic.

Beside me, Víctor sat silently, looking at the fountain behind his aviator style sunglasses. He was dressed casually in jeans and a tee. A hat was on his head, helping him blend into the general public more.

“I glad you could meet me,” he said at last, breaking the silence between us.

I glanced up at him, smiling shyly. I was still trying to figure out why he was paying attention to me. I was a single mom, not someone looking for a good time. Not that I didn’t enjoy the attention, I just longed to know why everything was happening.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I replied, gesturing to the cup in my hand. He chuckled, “It’s me buying you a drink after all, huh.” I smiled, “I hope you didn’t spike it with any alcohol.” He smirked, “And if I did?” “I’m a crazy drunk,” I warned.

“Better than an angry drunk,” he laughed. “Not always,” I reasoned, “Not when crazy becomes maniacal.” “Ariela, I think I could handle it – handle you,” he said, turning further to face me. “Oh?” I challenged, taking a sip of the caramel macchiato I’d ordered. He just arched a brow, a challenge of his own. A sudden idea sparked in my mind, childish, but I had warned him, after all.
I drained the rest of my coffee, and tossed the cup in a nearby trashcan.

I then turned back to him, unable to keep the smirk from my face. “What are you up to?” he asked suspiciously. “What makes you say that?” I cooed, inching closer. He raised his brows, noting the obvious.

I then reached out, tapping him on the knee. “Tag, you’re it!” I cried as I jumped up, retreating from him. He blinked, and then leapt to his feet as well, and was flying after me. Despite being a goalie, he was fast, it I didn’t get far before he caught me, lifting me off the ground, and spinning in a circle. I shrieked in surprise and delight. My feet hit the ground again, but his arms remained coiled around me.

“You can let go,” I managed to say between laughs.

“I don’t think so. This is the second time you’ve gone running off. I don’t want to risk it again,” he responded, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder.

“Hey, I’m not a dog or anything,” I grinned.

“I don’t know, a leash seems like a good idea,” he said as he let go, opting to grab my hand instead. “Kinky,” I teased, threading my fingers through his, earning a small blush over his gorgeous features. Success! He looked down at our hands, and then lifted them so he could kiss the back of mine.

“Can I buy you another drink? Tea, maybe – and I promise not to spike it too much…” I smiled, “Sounds like a plan.” He led the way, our hands remaining connected as we left the sanctuary of the park, and rejoined the crowds.