Viewing Single Post From: Fernando Torres Fic

Viewing Single Post From: Fernando Torres Fic
OneUnited117	Jan 10 2008, 07:59 PM
yagga yagga yagga yow Posts: 6,859 Group: Members Member #3 Joined: January 6, 2008 Which team(s) do you support? MANCHESTER UNITED. Eesti. Italia.	I know I promised part 26 like 4 years ago. :rolleyes: This isn't even the full part, in fact it's short and shite, but I will nonetheless post it so no one kills me. :rolleyes: I will continue to write it after exams, which might have to be another week and a half until I can continue to write. I'm really sorry. Part 26 Kati stepped out of the bus and into the Birmingham Bus Depot, which had apparently undergone major rehab, and if not RECENTLY, then at least since she had been there last when the entire place smelled like urinals and fried potatoes. Now the flooring was shiny and new, and the design of the whole place was exquisite. And the smell was no longer Piss 'N' Potatoes but rather a nice fresh vanilla scent drifting from the small coffee counter by the ticket booth. Quite an improvement for a bus station. Kati retrieved her big yellow suitcase from the belly of the bus and set off toward the doors leading to the street, where it was somber but not quite raining. The weather was warm and it threatened for an afternoon thundershower, which Kati didn't mind because she was going to be inside anyway, pelted with questions from her annoying distant aunt who lived in Belfast and visited once every five years. Her son, also known as Kati's disgustingly annoying cousin James, lived in Birmingham and worked as a personal shopper and fashion consultant for the rich and famous. He was the one who was to pick her up, which Kati dreaded with all her might because by her reckoning, he was the chavviest male on this Earth to date, surpassing even Ashley Cole. That was a record. She walked toward the car park and sat down on top of the canary yellow suitcase, as she did not spot James anywhere and all the benches were occupied by grannies and starved-looking unviersity students. Kati searched the lot hopefully for any type of fancy vehicle, because that's exactly what her prat of a cousin would be driving. The last time she saw him, he was rolling around in a brand new Audi with custom leather seats. She was pretty sure that by now, only a year and a half later, he was probably driving something new already. It was quarter to three and she was hungry and tired, and kind of regretting not going to the stupid Arsenal-City match. She could've seen Seb, could've seen City in its whole, with Steve Bruce and De Ridder. Oh, she was bummed, especially because she already knew that the entire 45 minute drive from the bus depot to her mum's house on the outskirts of town would mean a grueling three quarters of an hour in the hotseat, being pestered by her cousin about everything ranging from men to bra size. She would rather have walked there, with her slightly dirty banana yellow suitcase, started as she made her way through the streets in her painfully uncomfortable leather sandals. Unfortunately, she spotted a shiny black Aston Martin looming behind the corner menacingly as it stopped briefly to let a mother and her four children scurry across the way and into the depot. No doubt it was James. Kati groaned and stood up as he stopped in front of her. He got out of the car, his ridiculous frosty blonde hair and pink shirt making him look like Jay Manuel from America's Next Top Model. "Hello Kati." he said coolly, pulling off the Prada sunglasses and propping open the boot. Could he get more ridiculous?! First of all, the sun was (and had been for the past five days) hidden by a thick layer of grey clouds, so the shades were unnecessary from the get-go. The fact that they were WOMENS' Prada sunglasses made the situation even more ridiculous. "Hi James. How are you?" she asked, trying to keep the tone of her voice a tad above the freezing point. No doubt the snobbiest member of her family. "Fabulous, can't you tell?" James said and grabbed her yellow luggage with a look of discontent and threw it in the boot nonchalantly. "Careful with the paintjob." he barked as Kati reached toward the door handle. "Right, I'll watch it." Kati said, clearing her throat with clear annoyance. She got in and closed the door ever so delicately, running her hand over the soft black leather upholstery. Even if James was a total cow, he did have a sickeningly nice car. They sat in silence for a while and Kati silently hoped this was going to be how the entire trip panned out. Sadly, this changed in about four seconds. "Are those the jeans you wore in the Christmas picture your mum sent to us?" James asked, running his fingers over a perfectly groomed eyebrow in the rearview mirror as they stopped at a red light. "Er...I don't know." Kati said, wondering what in the world her jeans had to do with anything. "Is it the money that's holding you back from buying new jeans? I mean, I can see if there are any openings at my company...The FA really is a disgusting place to work, if you ask me." James shuddered and switched gears as the light turned green. "It's not the money! And I love my job." Kati said defensively. She did, even if she was pestered by annoying men in tacky suits all day long. She got to be near her most beloved thing, which was football of course. "Oh. Well if it's your weight problem, there's always a diet you can go on." James said next. "You could use it." he added. Kati blushed with anger and looked down. If the transmission wasn't blocking her way, she probably would've thrown herself at him and smashed the stupid Prada woman-shades into his stupid fake-tanned face, but then there was the factor about them being in the middle of traffic and all, and she didn't want to die in a car crash because of stupid James. So she controlled herself and thought happy thoughts, which mainly included her mentally punching him in the face repeatedly. Ahh, sometimes mental violence was such a stress-reliever. "Anyway, I'm going to have to drop you off for an hour or two, go get some lunch or something. I've got a meeting with a client." he said after an extended silence that hinted Kati's disinterest in his weight logic, or lack thereof. "Oh." she said, fuming with anger now. Why the hell had he even agreed to pick her up if he didn't have time?? "Fine then. You can drop me off right here." she said at the next stoplight and got out of the car without a response from him. She pried open the boot and took out her luggage, then slammed it shut again forcefully. Bastard, she thought. The fat bloke in the car behind the Aston Martin was staring at Kati in slight confusion, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She didn't blame him; it wasn't exactly normal for people to randomly get out of cars with enormous yellow suitcases in the middle of an intersection, but then again, Kati wasn't your ordinary girl. She trudged into the first eatery she saw and found it full of Birmingham fans, watching the match from Emirates. Much better than being stuck with James in his stupid Aston Martin, that's for sure. She set her suitcase in the corner where she could keep a watchful eye on it and sat at an empty table by the TV. It was the 67th minute and the score was 2-1, Arsenal. Not too bad, she thought. Birmingham were just coming back into the Premier League and she had a funny feeling that her boys could probably come back and level the match up again, if not win. The camera panned across the midfield and everything was peachy except for one disturbing factor...Seb Larsson wasn't playing.What the heck?! She was confused. As far as she knew, he was at full fitness and he was definitely in London. She knew that for a fact, what with the Tesco encounter and all... "De Ridder loses the ball and here comes trouble! Rosicky takes it down the wing, still Rosicky, STILL Rosicky! Pass to Bendtner, he SHOOTS and oooh, that was a close one! Well, Paul, Birmingham are really missing the presence of Seb Larsson in midfield as he pulled out of the squad just this morning in a surprise development. Something of a personal issue." Andy Grey babbled, partially answering Kati's burning question. What could have happened to him that he had to pull out? He wasn't even dropped! She wrinkled her brow and watched as Tomas Rosicky was brought to the ground and Arsenal got a free kick quite near the box. Damn you, Tomas, she thought. "Would you like a menu?" some vague voice asked her and she ripped her eyes from the match to face the waitress. "Er, sure." she mumbled distractedly and glanced right back at the screen. Robin van Persie and Nik Bendtner were hovering menacingly around the ball, taunting the Birmingham defence as each of them eyed the goal hungrily. This wasn't going to end well...Nik ran as if to kick the ball, leaving to Robin to really rip the ball to shreds. He kicked it cleanly with astonishing power and Kati felt her heart sink, until Colin Doyle made the most heroic save she'd ever seen and she found herself cheering without even meaning to. She attracted a few confused looks from a few older women, who apparently had not the slightest idea what football was. Or they were Villa fans. Either way, Kati felt her cheeks burn slightly as the grannies stared at her quizically and then got back to picking at their plate of Brussels Sprouts and meat. "Here you are, our special for today is the pork platter, but we've got a great selection of other matchday favourites." the waitress said and smiled at Kati in a surprisingly friendly manner. "Thanks." Kati replied and watched the waitress as she sauntered away toward a table of three big men, who all looked like a cross between Martin Jol and Shrek. She looked familiar for some reason, though Kati knew that they hadn't met before. The girl had long blonde hair and devilishly blue eyes and an accent that was far from the Brum-or any other British-accent. Funny, she thought...she really reminded her of someone, but it was difficult to pinpoint who. She skimmed over the menu hungrily, wondering what could be good. She decided she might as well treat herself to something after being tormented by James in the car about her weight. Stupid boy! She didn't spend two hours at the gym each day for nothing. Besides, she had no problem with her size or weight. In fact, she thought she looked pretty good.The waitress took the orders of the three men and disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, then returned and came back to Kati's table. The match was at a standstill because Armand Traore was being tended to by the physios, grasping his calf and moaning in pain.He and Senderos had apparently had a communication error which resulted in Philippe stepping on Armand's leg and then falling on top of him.Ouch.


Fernando Torres Fic · Fan Fiction