Well i sort of have a breakdown yesterday, decided i was never going to write again and hid all my fanfiction books and folders under my bed.
Then, a few dear friends told me i was a great writer and shouldn't jack it in.
My dad said Ralph's are not quitters.
So here is the next chapter, a day early.

--

Café et fraises

Chapter Four

The Match

Lucy ran the West Ham scarf through her fingers, before wrapping it snuggly around her neck. Her face was pink from the autumn chill, stuffing her gloved hands in her pockets. She flashed Pete a smile as they made their way to their seats. Lucy gazed out over the pitch, the sound of drums and chattering people and whistling flooding her ears like an unstoppable wave. She sat down beside Pete and Bovver, excitement flushed in her cheeks as the commentator read out the list of who would be playing in today's match; West Ham vs. Everton.

Dave and Swill battled their way to their seats, holding their drinks high as not to spill them; they passed the beer around before sitting down. Lucy cracked open her bottle and took a drink.

West Ham was the first to score, three minutes into the match. Lucy jumped up, Pete wrapping his arms around her as he whooped in glee.

'This'll be a breeze,' he winked at her, before his face set, eyes on the edge of the stand to the left of them. Lucy followed his gaze to see Mac Huggins, the firm leader of Everton, flashing them some rude hand gestures which Bovver happily returned. Mac was a gangly man with a small patch of hair on the top of his head even though he was in his late 20's. He had a lazy eye.

But then Everton scored and Mac was grinning from ear to ear, shooting Pete a smug grin. Lucy couldn't wait to get her hands on him. She hoped Pete and the guys would let her fight. It had been so long…

Everton scored again, before one of the West Ham strikers tackled an Everton player to the floor when he didn't have the ball.

A penalty to Everton. The crowd waited on bated breath, as Lucy squeezed Pete's hand. The player ran forward, kicking the ball towards the Hammers goal. It missed by a mile.

'Yes!' screamed Lucy, jumping up and down in delight. By half time, Everton had scored again; 3-1. 'I'm getting a little worried,' said Swill, before biting into his hot dog. They were stood by the stalls inside the stadium building.

'It'll be fine,' said Pete, crushing his can and throwing it in the bin. They began to head back towards the stands.

West Ham lost.

'I want to fight with you,' said Lucy instantly, as the group headed out of the grounds.

'No, Luce. I've only just got you back, I don't want you hurt,' replied Pete, a stern note in his voice.

'Please. I'll stay out your way as much as possible. I can do this!' she said, trying to sweet talk.

'No.'

'Pete,' Lucy bristled. 'I'll just fight anyway.'

'Fine,' he muttered, glaring at her. 'Just… try not to get too hurt.'

--

Lucy glared at Bovver as he sniggered. He passed the frozen peas to her so she could press them against her jaw.

'How is it?' he asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Sore,' she muttered. 'I'll get over it.' She looked away as he burst out laughing. 'I don't see what's funny about this,' she snapped.

'Nothing's funny,' he agreed. 'I just think it's funny you're hurt.'

'Oh, thanks,' Lucy glowered. Bov shook his head.

'I didn't mean like that. I just meant, you used to be such a fighter; no guy could ever lay a finger on you 'cause you usually knocked them out first. Now as soon as you get into the fight you get hit in the jaw.' Bovver glanced at her before sniggering again. 'Fucking 'ell, Luce. The kid hadn't even reached puberty yet.'

'He had a lucky hit,' she sniffed, shifted the peas to rest them against her cheek. 'You better watch out, Bovver,' she threatened. 'I still have a hard punch and your face looks very tempting.' After a moment, their laughter died down and Bov shifted against the counter, a small frown upturning the corners of his lips. Lucy stared at him, before sighing. 'You want to ask me, don't you?' she said.

'Ask you what?'

'Anything; why I came back? How I feel about you? Will I ever be leaving again?'

'Why did you come back?' he asked, a serious look on his face. The blonde gave a shrug.

'I needed to come back; this is my home, Bovver. My family is 'ere. My friends. I missed the action of the city, the colourful lights at nighttime, watching the foxes rumbaing through next doors bins and realizing they were mine.' She left out 'missed the drama.' She'd had plenty of that with Adam and even Libby had caused enough drama, like the time she almost crashed her car serving for a bunny that had already been run over.

'How do you feel about me?' Bovver asked, ears turning slightly pink but he held his gaze. Lucy frowned, trying to sum up words.

'I loved you,' she replied slowly. 'You were always there for me; always. I never had to worry about anything because I knew you'd always have my back.'

'Do you still love me?' he asked in a quiet voice. Lucy blinked away the tears and gave another weak shrug.

'I don't know. I just don't know.' Bovver didn't seem too happy with that answer. He folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat.

'Will you be leaving again?' he asked in a firmer voice.

Lucy gave a weak smile. 'Not if I have anything to do with it.'

--

Adam checked his watch. It was past closing hour but if he knew Libby then this was probably one of the spots she would like to hang out and if he found Libby, he found Lucy… Hammering on the locked pub doors, he waited impatiently for someone to open up.

There was no answer, so he hammered harder before there was the sound of someone lifting up a window.

'Oi? What you doing?' yelled an annoyed voice. Adam backed away from the door and gazed up at the dark haired man leaning out the window above him.

'You own this place?' he asked, moonlight lighting half of his face, causing the other half to be cast in darkness.

'Yeah, why?'

'Do you know someone called Lucy? Lucy Dunham?'

'Who's asking?'

Adam frowned, glancing around him before looking up again. 'I am.'

'Yeah, I know 'er,' the dark haired man replied, looking suspicious. 'I'd ask if you were one of them Millwall lot, but your accent don't match.'

'I'm a friend- from Lincolnshire,' he added. 'She wanted me to come up and see her new place so here I am. I just can't find her.' The man paused for a moment.

'She should be 'ere tomorrow. With the rest of the guys. That's all I can say, I'm not 'er fucking mum.'

'Thanks,' Adam yelled back, as the man shut the window. The younger man smirked, putting a rolled up fag in his mouth and lighting it. He took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke out his nose before he backed off. Adam turned and climbed into the car, turning the heating on once he had the engine started.

So, she'd be here tomorrow? He took off down the street; following the SatNav's directions to the B+B he was staying in that night. Adam smiled.

Tomorrow, he would get his girl back. Even if it killed her.

--

Spookey.