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Ellie

T hese past two weeks have been more of a challenge than I had hoped they would be.

It wasn’t even straightening myself out or finishing the article that proved to be difficult, it was staying away from Colin that proved to be nearly impossible for me. After that conversation with Nat and Liv, all I wanted to do was text him or call him or go to him in person and apologise for being so incredibly stupid, but my friends were right. I needed to sort my life out first. I needed to get out of bed every day. Eat properly. Shower. Dress in normal, clean clothes again.

You know, the basics.

I also needed to finish the article without getting distracted and being around him again would’ve been the biggest distraction of them all.

Plus, I also needed some time to figure out exactly what I want to say when Colin and I talk again because we will talk. I’ll make sure that happens even if it kills me. The fact that he’s stopped calling and texting does make me a tad nervous though. I haven’t heard from him once in fourteen days and while I know there could be a whole number of reasons why , a part of me can’t escape the nagging fear that he’s given up, but I can’t jump to conclusions either. Maybe he decided to give me that space I asked for. Not to mention there’s a very important game coming up that he has to worry about as well .

There’s no need to panic.

Yet.

That’s why I wrote the article the way I did, so he could (hopefully) see what I’m literally dying to tell him, but can’t just yet. I’m not sure if it’s exactly what Professor Garrick expected or even wanted, but she didn’t complain when I handed it to her. Even if she had, I would’ve found a way to convince her to publish it as I wrote it. Every word and picture I chose conveys the person I know Colin truly is. I want people to see him. I want them to know that rugby is only a part of who he is. That there’s so much more to him than just his dedication and passion for the sport. He’s kind and funny. Smart and loyal and he’ll protect and love the people he cares about with his whole heart. He’s the man I love. The man I admire and never want to be without ever again and I can only hope that when he reads it, that’s what he’ll feel as well.

I know Professor Garrick sent the article to him yesterday before it went live on The Armitage Post’s official website this morning. I won’t pretend that I haven’t been anxiously eyeing my phone all day, hoping he’ll call or text me about it. He hasn’t, but I’ve tried not to dwell on that fact even though my heart does sting a little.

Today is a monumental day for him.

It’s the final against Bancroft, the game that will decide Colin’s future as a professional rugby player and even with things still being unresolved between us, I’ve made it my mission to be there to support him. When it’s over, I’ll find him and lay everything out on the table once and for all.

I’m not going to be afraid.

Not anymore.

I am glad Liv and Natalie are here with me though. For emotional support, just in case I need it. All around me the stadium pulses with energy, radiating with palpable tension and a gripping, edge-of-your-seat kind of excitement that makes your heart race. The stands are awash with grey and maroon on one side and blue and gold on the other, and every pair of eyes is glued on the game in front of them so they don’t miss a single moment of it.

My eyes haven’t left Colin since the moment he ran out onto the field.

The second I saw him, the near-constant ache I’d felt over the last three weeks vanished at once. The bruises on his face are practically gone now and even though his right knee is strapped with white medical tape for added support, the way he’s moving on it, with so much power and fluidity, you’d never know that it was injured unless you saw the injury yourself. In fact, he’s been playing incredibly well tonight. Better than I expected given the circumstances. Despite one penalty which he missed by a fraction, he’s been completely focused and driven, not missing a single beat throughout the rest of the game, but there’s an obvious weight to him as well. A coolness he normally doesn’t carry. He hasn’t smiled once and barely joined in the celebrations when the Admirals scored or when a call from the ref went their way. I know it’s because of me and the pain we’ve both been through lately.

Just thinking about it makes my insides tug and twist sharply.

It doesn’t help that Marco’s been gunning for Colin all night.

After he tackled him without the ball and was finally sent off with a yellow card, gifting the Admirals a penalty try in the process, I was glad to s ee the back of him. Colin was pissed and rightly so, and I’ll admit, I’ve never wanted to see him punch someone more than my asshole of an ex, but I’m glad his friends stopped him because the ref probably would’ve sent him off too. Besides, he’s better than Marco. He doesn’t need to sink to his level.

With the final minutes of the first half of Sudden Death drawing to a close, Bancroft has yet to score any points, meaning that unless something happens now, the Admirals will go into the second half with a clear advantage over their opponents. If by some miracle Bancroft does level the score though, then the final will have to be determined another way. I watch anxiously as a handful of players position themselves for a lineout, forming two parallel rows near the touchline, while the rest fan out over the field. Colin hangs back near the halfway line, standing guard. The Admirals have possession and they’re only meters away from Bancroft’s try-line. All they need to do is retain the ball in the lineout and get it over the try line. If they do then the game will be over. Even with the way they’ve been playing tonight, I doubt the Bulldogs would be able to score twice in the second half, not unless Armitage completely lets their guard down.

The entire stadium stands on their feet, collectively holding their breath when the ball gets thrown in, but thunderous cheers and droned gasps sound when a Bancroft player manages to steal the ball legally in the air and quickly passes it back to the Bulldog’s flyhalf who tries to kick it away from his half and into touch, but even I can tell that it’s a terrible kick.

It's an opportunity for the Admirals though, one that Colin has already anticipated .

I clench my hands into fists, my stomach somersaulting with a mixture of excitement and anxiety as I watch him sprint forward to intercept it. Beside me, Liv and Nat are just as animated. Every Admirals supporter around me is. There’s only a couple of minutes left on the clock. This is it. This is the moment. This is when something big could happen. Where something big needs to happen. Colin leaps into the air and I suck in a sharp, audible breath, my heart stalling in my chest until the moment I see the ball slide perfectly into his arms. Relief skyrockets through me and our side of the stadium bursts with elation, chanting his name.

That’s when it happens.