The stadium had become a sea of white and red hours before kick off. England flags rippled through the stands like waves and every few minutes another chant rolled around the stadium. The atmosphere was unlike anything Ghost had experienced. Price had insisted the team take a rare weekend off after months of relentless operations and when England qualified for the World Cup knockout stages, Soap and Gaz had practically begged him to get tickets. Price eventually relented, muttering something about morale and before Ghost knew it, he was being dragged through a stadium.

Football wasn’t his thing. He could appreciate the discipline, the teamwork and the tactics but he never understood why a game could make grown adults laugh, cry or hug complete strangers. Soap and Gaz, meanwhile, had transformed into children. Price mostly amused himself watching the pair embarrass themselves. Ghost stayed in his seat. At least, he tried to. The woman sitting directly beside him made that rather difficult. She couldn’t have been much older than her early twenties, wrapped in an England shirt that was slightly too big for her. Every successful tackle had her on her feet. Every chance had her shouting encouragement. Every referee decision she disagreed with earned an incredibly passionate complaint that had half the surrounding rows laughing.

Ghost found himself glancing sideways more than once. She celebrated everything with complete sincerity. By half time she’d somehow become friends with nearly everyone within three rows. Gaz noticed first. “Nervous looking that way, LT?” “I wasn’t.” Soap looked across Ghost towards the woman just as England nearly scored. She jumped up with both arms in the air before collapsing back into her seat with an exaggerated sigh. Soap grinned knowingly. “Oh, I see.” Ghost ignored him. The second half was somehow even louder. When England finally scored, the crowd exploded. The roar physically shook the stands beneath their feet. The woman beside Ghost screamed in celebration before instinctively grabbing the arm of whoever happened to be closest.

Unfortunately for Ghost, that was him. For a brief second she squeezed his forearm tightly, laughing in complete disbelief as the stadium erupted around them. Then she realised. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” She immediately let go. “I didn’t even…sorry!” Ghost simply gave a small shake of his head. “It’s alright.” She smiled sheepishly before turning straight back towards the pitch. England held on. The final whistle blew. The stadium erupted into absolute chaos. Then, somewhere behind the goal, someone started singing. “Today is gonna be the day…” It spread astonishingly fast. Within moments, almost the entire stadium had joined in. “Because maybe…” The woman beside Ghost didn’t hesitate for a second.

One hand gripping her England scarf high above her head as she sang every word of Wonderwall at the top of her lungs. Ghost found himself smiling beneath his mask. Just slightly. Gaz leaned around Price. “He’s gone.” Ghost frowned. “Gone?” “Finished.” Soap folded his arms with a grin. “Our lieutenant’s got himself a stadium crush.” “I do not.” “You’ve watched her more than the match.” Ghost didn’t answer. Soap took that as confirmation. The crowd slowly began filtering towards the exits, still singing long after the match had ended. The woman gathered her scarf and turned to leave with her friends, still humming the chorus to herself. Soap gave Ghost a firm shove between the shoulder blades. “Go.” “No.” “Go buy her a drink.” Ghost looked towards the departing crowd. Then back at Soap. “…You’re serious.” “As a heart attack.” Gaz chuckled. Soap nudged him again. “You’ve got one chance before she disappears into ninety thousand people.”

Ghost looked towards the woman one last time, letting out a slow breath. “If this goes badly…” Soap was already grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll buy the first round.” Ghost shook his head before stepping into the crowd, disappearing after the woman in the England shirt while Soap and Gaz exchanged victorious smiles behind him.