Ferran Torres⁰⁴

The bus was silent, but a quiet, tired silence. They had just won the World Cup against Argentina 1-0, with a goal by Ferran.

Suddenly, all the cell phones vibrated at the same time.

Group: Team.

Ferran:

"Are you coming to my room later or what? You haven't even celebrated me the way I deserve 🙄"

"Are you ignoring me?"

Suddenly, it became even quieter than before. Five seconds passed.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Nobody was writing.

Ferran opened the chat.

Her face lost its color.

-...No.

I had wanted to send it to Pedri.

No to the team group.

Then the messages started arriving.

Gavi: 👀

Nico: HAHAHAHAHA.

Victor: I haven't seen anything.

Lamine: Que lache.

Markus: Continue.

Pedri looked up from the other end of the bus, trying to hold back his laughter.

Ferran covered his face with his hands.

—I wish the earth would swallow me up.

Pedri approached, gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder and whispered:

—Well, now I'm going to ignore you for a while.

And the bus erupted in laughter.