Page 39 of We'll Meet Again

Man City’s defense did, in fact, tighten after the first Stanmore goal, so it was going to take some creativity to earn a second one. But in his heart, Ethan wanted two more. He hated to end a match in a draw. It didn’t satisfy him to tie, he was always aiming to win. And maybe, with the cooperation he was getting now, they would be able to do just that.

In the seventieth minute, Ethan scored again. It was a Hail Mary, honestly. The defense was closing in on him, and he fired the ball away like a rocket with just enough force to get it past the goalkeeper, who grazed it with the tips of his fingers. Ethan celebrated by going to the Stanmore supporter’s section and soaking up their cheers. He pumped his fist in the air as he took a flying leap, all to the sweet singing of the fans, their scarves lifted high as their voices. He was even hungrier for the win now.

A chance didn’t come until stoppage time. Five minutes were added to the end of the match. Already, Ethan’s muscles screamed in protest at carrying on. And despite the cool night air, sweat plastered his kit to his back. None of it mattered. Not when he was sprinting through the midfield, hurtling toward the goal. He knew he could take it himself, but he was heavily marked and the goalkeeper was already poised and waiting for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Devon keeping pace out on the right. Wide open.

Ethan made the extra pass.

Devon only allowed himself to be surprised for a millisecond, quickly recovering to smash the ball past the keeper and into the corner of the net. The sea of blue in the Etihad fell silent, but the sliver of the stadium dedicated to the Stanmore supporters made enough noise in that moment to be registered on a seismograph. They were up on Man City by one point, 3-2, with only ninety seconds left of the game.

The final whistle blew with Man City unable to come up with another goal. The team all leapt into each other’s arms as the fans began a chorus of Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now.” The song had been the team’s victory anthem since they were first promoted to the top division in 1980, the year after the song was released. Ethan happily joined in, relishing their triumph before going to shake hands with the Man City players still on the field.

Slowly, the crowd dwindled down, the Man City supporters trickling out of the stadium. Ethan signed a couple jerseys and posed for a few photos with the fans at the front, though doing his best to include those a few rows back as well. He was just finishing up with a selfie when Devon approached him, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

“That extra pass, mate…” he trailed off. “I can’t believe you did that. You could’ve had a hat trick.”

Ethan clapped him on the shoulder. “It was more likely to go in if you took it. A win for the team was more important than a hat trick for me.”

Devon extended his hand, and Ethan shook it with a smile. He glanced around for Peter, hoping perhaps they could move forward as well. The glory of a win could surely outweigh the animosity from earlier. But Peter was already halfway through the tunnel back to the locker room, ignoring the press and even a couple fans that were calling out to him. Ethan decided to let it lie.

A reporter scurried over, shoving a microphone into his face. She tossed her dark hair back and smiled. “Ethan, a word?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

“How’s it feel to get a win tonight, against a team like Man City who are top of the table?” she asked.

“Oh, it feels great,” he said. “I enjoy a game that’s challenging, it’s how we get better, as players and as a team. And those boys put up one heck of a fight, I declare.”

The reporter grinned. “That last goal - did you think about taking it yourself?”

“Only for a second,” he told her. “If I took it, there was a chance it’d be blocked, and that wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, so I passed.”

“Quite unselfish of you!” she praised.

“Well, there’s no I in team, right?” he said, shrugging.

“So there isn’t,” she chuckled. “Would you say teamwork was the key that led to the win tonight?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “It was a little shaky at first, but we pulled it together, and the results are obvious.”

“The halftime sub of Peter O’Riley…” she continued asking her question, but Ethan didn’t hear it.

A distraction in the form of none other than Billie Axton appeared on the pitch, alongside Nelle, who was snapping photos for social media. The sounds and the lights all faded away, and his eyes were trained only on Billie. But what was she doing here? Did she usually attend away matches? He didn’t even think she went to the home games. She looked devastatingly beautiful in her blue coat and Stanmore scarf draped over her shoulders. Her curls wrapped into a low bun at the nape of her gorgeous neck. She laughed at something Nelle said, and Ethan swore he felt his heart try to leap out of the confines of his chest.

“Ethan?”

The reporter’s voice brought him back to his interview. “Sorry?”

“Did you think the halftime substitution of Peter O’Riley was the right call?” she repeated.

“Oh…uh…you know what, that’s for the coaches to decide,” he said. “We won tonight, but who’s to say that couldn’t have happened with him out there with us?”

She opened her mouth to say more, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“I’m sorry - wait, what was your name?”

“Chloe,” she told him.

“Well, I’m sorry, Chloe, but I’ve gotta take care of something,” he told her. “Raincheck on the rest of that interview.”

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