Cordelia
It was officially the most amazing day of her life. Officially. The 13-year-old brushed her thick dark hair out of her eyes as she squinted down the corridor. Her hero was about to walk through the hall and hold her hand and walk onto the field with her.
For Cordelia McGregor, there was no prince charming, no superhero no rock star. There was just Ferdinand.
Cordelia had grown up watching football with a family that followed the game avidly and ever since the 17-year old Ferdinand had debuted impressively, her heart was his. She followed all his matches, and digested every bit of news she could find about him. Her parents humored her near obsession and her dad even entered her into a competition for kids where the prize was to have the honor of walking in with your favorite player. They laughingly concluded that for other kids there was Superman or Batman, but for Cordelia it was Ferdinand.
Shockingly she was actually chosen as the kid to walk out with Ferdinand onto the field. She saw his familiar smile as he took her hand. Hers felt clammy from nervousness and excitement, but he didn't notice. While they waited for the signal to begin walking out he asked her name. She gave it in a soft, shy voice. He laughed.
Ferdinand
This was it. His biggest game ever for his team. The title of the world's best was at stake. He had some stellar performances before, but how he fared in this game would change everything. As a little boy this was what he dreamed about. Every kick, every goal. It all lead up to this. He took a deep breath and took the hand of a shy, cute kid he was meant to accompany.
He smiled at her encouragingly and asked her name. Cordelia, she replied in a small shy voice. She had big brown eyes and thick dark braided hair.
"That's a very pretty name for a very pretty girl." He told her leaning down slightly so she could hear amid the noise and fervor around. She blushed and just held his hand tighter. As they walked out, just before they reached the place they had to separate, she tugged his hand lightly and just about over the noise he heard her say earnestly, "Don't worry about them," as she waved her small hands dismissively at the crowds and the opposing team. "You're my hero. I believe you can do anything." She smiled, beaming at him and he felt a rush of emotions at this foreign little girl who put all her faith into him. He smiled back and then she was gone.
All too soon the game started. It was a tough nail-biting final and the opposition was fiercely on form. For the players it was outright war. He struggled for the ball but opportunities to score were not coming. Both sides were evenly matched even though their style of play was completely different. By half-time nothing had changed and when he came back on he could see a substitute starting to warm up that Coach would no doubt put on and take him off for.
Almost as if in slow motion he saw the ball heading his way in a pass back from the opposition. He moved quickly, using the skills he built up, he wrested it away from the opponent meant to receive it. Deftly dancing with the ball, he passed it to the talented striker but he could see it was too blocked for him to score. He quickly got himself to an open position. The striker had no option and passed the ball to him. He received it, oddly aware of everything around him.
The crowd were on their feet and clamoring, as they sensed the opportunity. His teammate was blocked up and still running to free himself. His marker was running towards him fast.
Everything seemed so foreign. The last ten years of his life culminated in this, but everyone seemed so far away. Thoughts of glory were gone from his head and replaced by the primal fear of not being good enough. His mind numbed as the seconds sluggishly ticked on and from nowhere came the little girls smile. Like basking in sunlight with his eyes closed, her voice warmed him.
"You're my hero," echoed through him. He had to be her hero. He could do this. As his natural instinct kicked in, he whipped the ball away from the attacker who was now on him, saw the goal, lifted his leg up and connected. All he could hear over the shouts and delighted screams was, "I believe you can do anything."
He scored twice that evening, against everyone's expectations and the team and the entire nation's glee. He never forgot the little girl. It was a whirlwind after that. If he thought he had made it before then, he was so wrong. He was the youngest hottest star and his lifestyle reflected that.
He received lucrative contracts and huge endorsement deals. He got the houses and cars and to go with that, the supermodel girlfriend. This was surely life.
Four years later...
Cordelia
She opened the glossy magazine and saw the huge spread on him. She told herself she bought it for the free sunglasses that came with it but deep down she knew. He looked as beautiful as ever. His glossy, light brown hair, shorter now than he had had it before, his deep blue eyes and the familiar smile that made her heart feel as if it were taken out and then heated up by the fire and then returned, leaving her flustered and warm and unexplainably happy. He also had his shirt off as he walked on the beach displaying a perfect physique. It wasn't that she thought he was hot though. It wasn't an obsession either.
All through high school as his career picked up and his face became more recognizable, girls swooned over him. For her though, ever since the day he smiled at her, she just had an instant connection to him. And even though his posters graced her walls like many other teenage girls, hers weren't the shirtless, posing, pretty boy pictures everyone else favored, they were of him in play in his kit and one of him just smiling seemingly caught off guard.
She looked back at the picture and focused on the girl next to him. She was dressed in the skimpiest of bikinis and seemed to have the body of a goddess. Her name was Illasabette and her exotic beauty matched her name. She was supposedly going to be married to him in a few months according to a hint she unscrupulously slipped to reporters. She sighed closing the magazine not wishing to read on and decided to live her own life.
She would be moving soon to college and though her life was not exactly miserable, she felt disjointed and out of place. She performed well at school and coped socially. While not being awkward she could more than adequately be entertaining and charming, but it all felt fake. She had to put way too much effort in and it didn't seem worth it. After her mum passed away 3 years ago, everything that meant anything previously lost its luster. Except watching Ferdinand. He had just had another spectacular run in the next tournament, picking up the best player award. Every game he triumphed, she felt as if she shared in it too. But lately even that fell away.
She had gone on dates occasionally, but it felt forced again and she hated volunteering information about herself so most dates went nowhere. Physically as well she didn't liked being touched and wouldn't even concede a hug. She looked at Ferdinand's poster and laughingly said to it aloud, "I bet you don't have that problem."
She gazed at the poster for a few more minutes and coming to a decision, got off the bed and detached the posters and rolled them carefully up.
Ferdinand
As a matter of fact Ferdinand did not have that problem...
After a string of torrid love affairs, he wanted more. More than a year ago he met Illasabette. She was stunningly gorgeous. She was a model and a guest reporter on a sport show that interviewed him. After heavy flirting during the show and after, he asked her on a date. He was actually nervous when he asked her and she said yes of course.
They went to dinner at an exclusive restaurant and she was all over him. He became immersed in her green eyes and they kissed and brushed legs. He hadn't felt this unbridled desire before. She clearly felt the same way judging by the flame in her eyes. Before dinner ended she went to the bathroom and when she returned, placed a lacy scrap of something in his hand. It was her panties...
They went to his seaside place and he had his hands all over her tight black dress. Before they got in the door, her hands had slid under his shirt and he had unzipped her dress. As he lay her down on his bed, he pulled down the top of her dress to find her braless, her nipples hard, and her full breasts filling his hands. He pressed down on her slowly and covered her lips with his, no longer slow and soft, but needy and desperate, as if he was searching for something.
