Football singularity
Chapter 513 513 Were On A Break

Please vote to show me your support for the story. The higher we climb in the rankings, the more motivated I will feel. Mass releases will be rewarded for each 10 rankings we manage to climb.

#More than 10 chapters ahead on my Patreon: /TrikoRex

{!!!Please leave a review, it helps me a lot and lets me know how many people are invested in the future of this novel!!!}

~~~

[Glebe Road, Cambridge, Cambridgeshire, Emma's Crib| 26/01/2020 | Time: 17:47]

Taylor Twellman's voice came through, still buzzing with excitement. "Well, Derek, it's been one-way traffic from the opening whistle. They put a stamp on this match early and never looked back, one goal, one assist, and a whole lot of headaches for Düsseldorf's backline are Rakim's and Diaby's contributions to the match. Honestly, it could be three or four if not for Kastenmeier playing out of his mind."

On-screen, Rakim slung an arm around one of the coach's shoulders and seemed to be discussing something with him as they walked into the tunnel. Emma muted the TV with a quiet tap of the remote as life came back to those who had been glued to the screen for most of the hour. "Yo, Emma, your brother can really ball," Zak shouted, bouncing up from the sofa, stretching his body as if he had sat there for years.

"Yeah, yeah," Miles groaned, flinging a cushion at him, not giving Emma a chance to respond. "Still doesn't make your fantasy team any less tragic."

"Shut up, you're just grumpy, your bet fell through, who in their right mind bets on the goalie scoring in the first half?" Zak retorted with a bright smile as he walked off to the bathroom like a man who had just won the lottery. "Hahah, just because the odds are 500/1, don't mean you gotta take the long shot, especially since your accumulation was spot on, plus it's not like you broke,"

"Shut up, who complains about the chance to earn 500 bags in one bet?" Miles complained as he followed after him, their conversation quickly disappearing as music began playing in the living room again.

"Girls, let's do shots to wipe the last 45 minutes from my mind," Maddie hollered as she proceeded to interlock her arms with Jenna and Hailey, dragging them to the kitchen island. Emma and May quickly followed, still debating whether to stop the ginger girl or simply concede to her whims.

A short while later, the kitchen island became alive with laughter and clinking shot glasses. Maddie had lined up an aggressive row of tequila slammers while Jenna searched for lime wedges. "Alright," Maddie declared, raising her voice over the music, "one for Moussa, one for Rakim, one for my mental stability!"

"Those are going to run out fast," Hailey deadpanned, lifting her phone to check the Bundesliga live stats app. Emma leaned against the marble counter, pouring a shot for herself only to see May hold out a glass. "Are you crazy? You don't drink," she exclaimed, half shouting her voice travelling over the music, causing the rest of the girls to pay attention.

Emma didn't care about their nosy stares as she continued eyeing her friend's quiet expression. May gave a little shrug, eyes momentarily drifting toward the muted TV, where the halftime show was looping highlights. "Might as well," she said softly. "It's not like I've got a reason not to."

She hesitated, watching May closely as she handed her the glass. For a second, it looked like May might change her mind. But instead, she tapped it against Emma's, downed it in one go, and exhaled sharply. "Wow, that's bitter. What? Are we celebrating or what?"

"Sure, to the hottest freshman at Cambridge," Maddie exclaimed after barely spending a moment debating whether she wanted to step into the minefield between the two friends. "Whoo! Cheers to Brexit,"

"Cheers to Brexit?" Hailey loudly repeated, earning bouts of cheers from those who overheard as they all took a swig of their drink. "Maddie, what are we even doing?"

"We're celebrating that they managed to put that ball into the metal box," Maddie replied with exaggerated glee, already pouring another round. "Though I still don't understand why that's a good thing, surely Rugby is a more intense sport, right? I almost fell asleep watching this."

Before anyone could roast Maddie for her war crime of a sports take, the muted television drew their attention again. The halftime pundits had transitioned from tactical overlays to aesthetic replays—one clip frozen mid-frame as the camera zoomed in on Rakim's profile. His rendition of X's hair colour in waves format shimmered under the BayArena's floodlights as he swung his left boot in a thunderous side volley.

"Okay, seriously," Maddie said, leaning over the counter and pointing at the screen. "Does he have, like, a contract with MBJ or something? How does someone look that good after sweating so much?"

"Yeah, May," Hailey chimed in, her curiosity sharpened by tequila. "What's it actually like—dating someone that talented and famous? At his age?"

The girls all turned towards the peach-blond, who now had a light blush due to the alcohol or lack thereof over the years. To the girls, the music felt quieter somehow as they awaited the girl's response. Her voice came out slightly raspy, but clear enough for them to understand her. "It was surprisingly normal, but we're on a break now."

She didn't wait for her friends to internalise her words as she immediately downed the contents of her cup and walked off, heading for the stairs. The atmosphere quickly turned awkward with the four girls left standing in stunned silence. "Maybe tequila wasn't such a good idea," Maddie muttered under her breath, finally breaking the silence between them.

"Oi, shut up, let's get you some water before you set off another minefield," Hailey said, directly dragging her by the arm, with the girl barely fighting her attempt, likely also trying to escape the awkward atmosphere.

"Emma, be honest now, did you know?" Jen asked her tone sounding more worried than accusatory with a hint of hurt.

Emma's head snapped her way so quickly that she almost received a dose of whiplash. "What, of course not, if we did, would we have let Rakim return to Germany on his own after what happened on New Year's?"

"Sorry, you guys have just been keeping so many secrets, I can't help but feel left out again," Jen quickly apologised as she placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. "Let's go check on her, no matter what happened between them, we need to be there for our friend."

"It's ok, and honestly, this whole situation just needs to end, and I can't believe Rakim didn't tell me about this. Though that does explain some of his behaviour of not wanting to talk about May at all, I just chalked it up to him being stressed." Emma muttered in response as she started to rethink some of the conversations when she tried to check in on him.

"That would explain that Emo ass haircut he got. I didn't want to say it, but that would explain a lot." Jen muttered to herself, but with Emma's proximity, she heard her clearly. Doing her best to hold back her laughter as she glanced over to the screen where the players were just jogging back out onto the field. "Let's go check on her, she should have had enough time to calm down for a bit."

~~~

[19:00 German Time | Bay Arena, Leverkusen | Bayer Leverkusen 2 vs 0 Dusseldorf]

[46]

"And we are back underway here in Leverkusen. The hosts have a commanding 2–0 lead over Düsseldorf," Rae said, "but with Funkel's men making a tactical tweak during the break, they'll be hoping to snatch one back quickly."

Twellman added, "They've pushed Skrzybski higher up the pitch, more like a second striker alongside Hennings. It's a gamble, but one they have to take."

The camera panned across the BayArena as the second half kicked off under floodlights that shimmered against the January chill. Since it was their turn to kick off, Leverkusen were back in possession almost immediately. They didn't rush to attack, instead choosing to calmly play out from the back.

Dusseldorf came out roaring to fight as they surged forward, playing more aggressively. Under Hennings' charge, Tah was quickly forced to tap it short to Sven, who sprayed a crisp pass wide to Wendell. The left-back didn't get the chance to think as Skrzybski was upon him, forcing him to send it high up the flank.

Wendell's clearance hung in the air like a dying star, awkwardly, spinning, as Rakim turned to face it, ready to nod it inwards to Volland. He never got the chance, though, as a robust figure gripped his shoulder using him as a springboard to catapult himself over him. "Zimmermann may have won that aerial duel, but whether he will get away with it is for Sir Daniel Schlage to decide."

.

.

.

.

To Be Continued...