A/N: Thanks to Bluebell140 and the other reviewer for your kind words :) Hope you like the next chapter.
Troy got off the tram in the midst of a mass of Manchester United fans. He allowed himself to be swept along as the group moved as one towards the stadium. It was matchday, and despite his reservations, Troy had been looking forward to this day. He had enjoyed that night in the bar watching the game with his new friends, and the songs around him and general excitement of the crowd was infectious. He wore his red Wildcats track sweatshirt over a red T-shirt, and had even bought himself a matchday scarf to fit in. The crowd finally began to disperse once they had arrived outside the fabled Old Trafford. The stadium was impressive, and while the glass facade reminded him of his beloved Staples Center, it was substantially bigger. Checking his watch, he decided to find his seat before it got too crowded. Checking his ticket, he headed to the West Stand. He found his seat next to a portly red faced man who had his hand buried in a large pack of chips.
Ignoring his companion, Troy trained his eyes on the field. He saw the two teams doing drills and warming up. The seats around him were slowly filling up, and the noise level was rising. The warm ups ended, and the teams retreated back down the tunnel.
"So what do you think? What are our chances?" grunted the man beside him.
"Um, they're good I guess?" Troy shrugged.
The man snorted. "A Yank?" He turned away from Troy, training his eyes on the ground once more.
Before Troy had the chance to feel insulted, loud music came on, and the players returned through the tunnels, and lined up in the middle. The crowd rose to their feet and the cheers grew louder as individual players were announced. Troy stood up too, clapping with the crowd. He sat back down as the teams arranged themselves into formations, ready to start. A murmur of annoyance distracted him, and Troy noticed people standing up again in his aisle. His confusion cleared when he saw someone trying to make their way down the row of seats. The large man stumbled out of his seat, and Troy took his cue to do the same. The whistle sounded and cheers were heard around the ground before Troy was able to settle back into his seat. The latecomer sat beside him but Troy suppressed the urge to glare at them, preferring to focus on the match which had already started. As soon as he turned to watch the match, a huge groan sounded around the stadium.
"Come on, bloody hell!" roared the man beside him, with the crowd behind him voicing similar opinions.
"This is stupid! Where is the defence?" yelled the latecomer.
Troy was surprised at the violent reaction to conceding a goal. He watched as the players moved back to the centre of the field. The jeers quieted down as the home team took control of the game, and they turned into loud cheers. Troy clapped along at the close chances and groaned as the other team got possession of the ball. After about ten minutes, though, Manchester United equalised, and the roof went off. The fans around Troy were on their feet, screaming with joy.
"It had to be him. It just had to be him!" cried the latecomer beside him. Troy looked up and saw a young woman wrapped in a red coat standing with her hands clasped tightly together. Wavy chestnut hair hid her face from him as she looked up at the sky.
Over the next twenty minutes, Troy watched many close calls at either side of the pitch, and got swept away with the emotions of the other fans. The second goal was exciting, but by the time the third goal was headed in, even Troy was on his feet.
"That's it lads!" yelled the large man.
"Can you believe this?" cried a soft voice. Troy turned to his left and locked eyes with the brunette girl. Her coffee coloured eyes were filled with excitement, and a wide grin stretched across her face.
Troy shook his head with a smile of his own. "It's crazy. They've been great since the first goal!"
The girl stared at him, and her smile faded. She nodded at him sharply, before turning back to the game. Troy kept his eyes on her in confusion. Had he said something wrong? He sat back down and returned his focus to the action below him.
Half time rolled around and Troy stood up from his seat, arching his back. Around him the crowd began moving inside, undoubtedly to replenish their food supplies. Not feeling hungry, Troy sat back down and whipped out his phone. He began scrolling through his emails.
"Um, excuse me," a soft voice said. Troy looked up and found the brunette girl standing awkwardly balancing an open bottle of Coke and a packet of chips in her hand. Troy stood up, allowing her to get to her seat.
"Thanks," she muttered, offering him a half-smile. Troy nodded in return before sitting back down and focusing on his emails once more. They were mostly administrative emails from his college and updates from Facebook. There was one other email. His eyes narrowed as he read the name of the sender. Tempted to just hit delete, his finger hovered over the button. The subject title 'Please come Troy' though piqued his curiosity, and against his better judgement he opened it. As soon as he did, he regretted it. His hand clenched the phone tightly, trying to control himself. A mixture of pain and rage bubbled up inside him. His hand shook, as his eyes ghosted over the ornate writing.
You are cordially invited to the wedding of David Grayson and Melissa Sterling.
Why would she do this to him? She would have known how it would rip open a wound that he was desperately trying to suture back together. Could she really think he would come? Troy suppressed an urge to hurl the phone as far as he could. He pulled himself together to delete the email, and then slipped the phone back into his pocket before he did something he would regret. Still keyed up from what he had just read, he felt a pair of eyes burning into him. He turned to the source, to see the coffee coloured eyes filled with unshed tears. As the girl noticing his questioning stare, she swiftly turned away, swiping at her eyes.
Troy looked away too, wondering if he had upset her in some way. Always uncomfortable with women crying, there was something about the way she looked at him that really got to him. Before he could analyse it further, a roar from around the stadium brought him back to the world of soccer. The second half was less entertaining as his mind was still wrapped up in thoughts of weddings and distracted by sneaking glances at the girl beside him. Even so, he snapped out of his funk near the end of the match as the crowd urged Manchester United to hold on to their slender one goal lead. It was nervy, and Troy caught himself swearing as the opposition came closer and closer to scoring. His eyes darted to the clock, willing the referee to blow his whistle to signal the end of the match. The end of the match finally came and Troy sighed in relief. He was surprised at how much he had involved himself in the match. It was definitely not as boring as he had assumed. Maybe going to a couple of these matches would be okay after all.
He turned to his left to find the intriguing brunette had already left. He filed out of the stadium with the rest of the crowd, and was once again shepherded back to the tram station by the crowd. The mood was jubilant at the win, but Troy heard snatches of worried conversations about the injured defence, and the player whose leg had been sliced open in the dying minutes of the match. Making a mental note to bring it up with Chad when they next met, Troy got into the tram.
That evening, Troy shut himself within the confines of his room, burying himself into his anatomy textbook. He had ignored calls from his parents all night, not ready to face their pity and attempts to console him. He had texted them saying he was busy, and would call them in a couple of days. Troy was sure they had seen through the lie, but the calls stopped anyway.
"Lumbricals, Opponens pollicis, Abductor pollicis brevis and... Come on, what is it? It's gotta start with F." Troy scratched his head, racking his brain for the answer. "Flexor pollicis... longus?"
He scanned the textbook. "Damn it. Brevis. Flexor pollicis brevis. Damn it." He picked up the book and flung it off his bed. "Damn it Melissa. How could you do this to me?"
He got up and punched the wall. Looking up, he came face to face with his reflection in the mirror. It was then that he realised what he had missed at the soccer game. Of course that girl, the look in her eyes had disturbed him. It was that look of raw pain that had inhabited his own eyes for the past year. What really scared him was that the look in her eyes was ten times worse than his had ever been.
So this is primarily a story about Troy and Gabriella, but a lot of it will be told through football matches. Let me know if there's too much or not enough description of the actual matches and I will try to adjust. Hope you liked it :)
