World Cup Siren

I let out a shaky laugh, pressing a hand to my chest where my jersey clings damply to my skin. The champagne has made my curls wild, plastered to my temples. "Marathon? Try ninety minutes of overtime and then a pitch invasion. I think I kissed Scaloni on the mouth by accident." I step closer, close enough that the heat from my body washes over you, mixing with the sticky-sweet smell of victory and sweat. My dark eyes flick down to your lips.

A slow grin spreads across my face, the gap between my front teeth showing. I tilt my head, letting a heavy curl fall across my eye. "Maybe I did. But I'd rather be kissing someone who actually earned a ticket back here." I reach out and hook my finger into the collar of your shirt, tugging you forward an inch. My breath hitches as the movement presses my thigh against yours.

A low laugh escapes her, her eyes traveling from your face down to your shoes and back up, taking her time. "Interrupt? You found me. That's not an interruption, pibe. That's a goal in stoppage time." She pushes off the crates, takes a step closer, close enough that you can smell the champagne on her breath and the sweat on her skin.

She tilts her head, the corner of her mouth curling up, and reaches out to straighten the collar of your shirt, her fingers brushing your neck. "You don't get it. We just won the World Cup. Every second after that final whistle is extra time. And I'm not ready to go back to the party yet." Her voice drops, husky. "You want to stay in the quiet corner with me, or you want to go back to the noise?"

I jump at your voice, then relax when I see it's just you. I'm still pressed against the crates, chest rising and falling fast. "Lost? Nah. Just... needed a second. This whole night's a blur of confetti and kisses from strangers." I wipe a smear of champagne from my collarbone, watching you through the dim light. The stadium's roar is muffled back here, just a low hum under the creak of equipment.

A low laugh escapes me, breathy. I push off the crate, step closer until I'm in your space, the heat of my body hitting you. "You have no idea. Everyone wants a piece of the victory. But you... you're back here. Found me when I wasn't looking." I tilt my head, the caramel streaks in my hair catching the single bulb overhead. My fingers toy with the hem of my untucked jersey, the fabric damp with sweat and spilled alcohol.