Page 80 of We'll Meet Again

Betty nodded. “He has. But apparently you’re both too scared to confront it.”

Billie’s face heated up at that. So therewassomething Ethan wasn’t saying. But she wasn’t exactly offering it up either. She just never imagined that he was experiencing it as well. It seemed too far-fetched, too out there. Hell, she hardly believed them herself. But maybe validating each other was the solution. If only that didn’t scare her so much.

“So…you think I should talk to him?” Billie asked.

“I do,” Betty said. “Before you take the absolute piss out of him.”

Billie chuckled. “Alright, then.”

“Now enough of that sappy stuff. Let’s watch some football!”

She let out a cheer and their whole section followed suit.

A few minutes later, the opening ceremonies began, and with them, the start of the game. As soon as Arsenal kicked the ball into play, Hector received it and started up the pitch toward the goal, but was dispossessed before he could try to pass. Stanmore was on the defense, keeping pace with the Arsenal forwards, whose sudden and intense pressure had them in the box already. One of their forwards took a shot, but a header from Israel blocked it. Kâmil received it on his chest and booted it back down the pitch toward Peter. He ran down the sideline, but a defender caught up with him, forcing him to kick it away. Since Ethan was heavily marked in the center, Peter passed it to Devon, who was open on the other side of the pitch. Ethan turned away from the two defenders on him and took off down the center to get open. Devon delivered a near perfect cross and Ethan took a hasty shot. The stadium held its breath.

A collective groan left the Stanmore section when the Arsenal goalkeeper tipped the ball up and over the net, holding Stanmore to a corner kick. As they got in place for their set piece, Betty leapt to her feet.

“Come oooooooooooon, Stanmore!” she bellowed.

The foursome of men with their faces painted in front of her laughed, and then led the section in cheering, “Come on, Stanmore! Come on, Stanmore! Come on, Stanmore!” Billie joined them, uncaring that her voice would be hoarse if they kept it up the entire match.

Osahar took the corner. It swung in right to Peter, who jumped to meet it with his head. The contact was good, but his aim was just a touch too far, and it bounced off the near post before rolling out of bounds. The cheers died down as everyone returned to their seats. The team spread back out across the pitch for a goal kick.

“You dated that O’Riley guy?” Betty asked.

“Unfortunately,” Billie answered.

“I’ll say. The man can’t finish.”

Billie clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the howl of laughter at the back of her throat.

At half time, to the frustration of Stanmore and Arsenal supporters alike, the score was still 0-0. Billie and Betty made their way to the restrooms, keeping brave faces, but truthfully, Billie was concerned.

“Arsenal look really good,” she admitted quietly.

“But they’ve got nothing to show for it,” Betty reminded her. “And we’ve had some good chances.”

It was true. Ethan had several shots on goal, but the keeper was earning his paycheck today for sure. Hector and Peter had both gone for it as well, but it either went wide or the keeper was there. On the plus side, Jordan was on his game too. The Arsenal forwards had taken quite a few more shots than Stanmore, and Jordan hadn’t let a single one past him. There was still another forty-five minutes of regular time, but Arsenal was attacking so well, Stanmore was having to play out of the back, which wasn’t their strong suit. Billie hoped that Coach Warren figured something out at halftime. Anything to make it work.

“Ethan will be gutted to lose this,” Billie said. “They’ve all come so far.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s their only shot at a trophy,” Betty said. “Right?”

Billie shook her head. “We’re still in fifth place in the Premier League, and a whole twelve points behind the leaders. We didn’t qualify for the Champions League or Europa League last season. And we got knocked out early in the Europa Conference League. The FA Cup is the only realistic bit of silverware at this point.”

“Well, hell fire, y’all got more leagues over here than anyone could possibly know what to do with,” Betty sighed. “No wonder Ethan’s busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.”

Billie giggled. “That’s really just the tip of the iceberg. On the plus side, the more cups are up for grabs, the more opportunities there are for different clubs to win.”

“I guess so, but how do you keep up with it all?”

“The trick is to keep up with your club, and pretty much say fuck it to everything else.”

“I like your style, Billie.”

In the second half, Stanmore came out much stronger. Unfortunately, that also meant more aggression from the defense. At the sixtieth minute, Luka grabbed a runner’s shirt during a tackle, earning himself a yellow card. Arsenal’s forwards drew another foul right outside the box, setting them up for a free kick in an even more ideal position.

“Fuck, we always struggle to defend set pieces,” Billie groaned.

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