To Holly With Love...

And Irish Soccer player named Holly is all about the game and nothing can change that until a soccer tournament that takes her to England also takes her one step closer to finding true love but will Holly take her head of the game for long enough to see whats right in front of her.

This is not my story its by a friend of mine her stories are amazing and I thought some people on here my like to read them she is amazing they are all #imagines!! Follow her on Twitter for her others at @MA_1directioner She is an amazing Girl and very creative.


6. Chapter 6

Niall's P.O.V.:
Holly: Goodnight...

We stood just inside her hotel for twenty minutes, speaking between kisses.

Niall: Goodnight...

I couldn't help myself, I really liked her. She looked down, smirking.

Holly: I really do have to go, I'm technically supposed to be practicing tonight
Niall: Why didn't you say? I don't want you to get in trouble
Holly: No, um the night before a game I go to the field and practice, just me, most of the night. Guess you could call it a pregame ritual.
Niall: Oh, but don't you get tired?

She laughed, looking down.

Holly: Actually, I get total insomnia the night before games, so I'd rather be practicing than staring at the ceiling all night.
Niall: Yeah I guess that makes sense.

She rocked back on feet, smiling,

Holly: Haha, yeah. You should come tomorrow,
Niall: To your game?
Holly: Yeah, its against a French team and you could bring your friends too, I mean only if you wanna come-
Niall: No, I'd love to. And I know the boys would love to as well.

Holly's P.O.V.:
Niall eventually left, and I ran upstairs to my room, changed quick ( ), and then was back on the field.

I don't know why, but no matter what was happening, the moment my cleats touch the field, I'm home.

*next day in the locker room*

Coach: Alright girls, bring it in.

We all sat around, looking up at our coach.

Coach: Ok, girls this is it. First game of the tournament. You've got to pass the ball, and get back on defense. Anticipate everything. Communicate with each other. This is what we practice for everyday. Leave the world here, because it's useless on the field. Pass the ball. Help each other. And give'em hell! Now let's get out there and WIN!
Team: Yeah!

We stood, putting all our hands together in the middle.

Holly: IRISH ON THREE! 1, 2, 3,
Team: IRISH!

I was one of our teams three captains. So I stood in the front as we ran. It's a complete cliché but we run onto the field to 'Shippin Off to Boston' by the Drop Kick Murphys. We were the "home" team today, so our entrance was big.

The arena filled with screams as we ran in. Our entrance started with me kicking the ball from the mouth of the tunnel into the open field.

The atmosphere is exhilarating, thousands screaming our names, wearing our shirts, waving posters. My heart races the whole time, even through England's national anthem, and Ireland's. When the music ends, it all begins.

Niall's P.O.V.:
The boys and I sat in the fifth row of the stands, in full view of the entire game. And Holly.

Harry: She's amazing.

And she was. With five minutes left in the second half, Ireland winning 4-1, she never sat the whole game, scored 3 out of the 4 goals, and took quite a few hits. Holly was running down the field beside a French player with the ball. In one swype of her foot the girl hit the ground and Holly was running the other way, with the ball.

Louis: She never stops does she?
Niall: Doubt it.

Just then another French player went at the ball, taking Holly down. The crowd went silent as both girls stood. Her friend, Fiona helped her up. But as Holly went to walk away the French player went and shoved her forward. Holly caught herself, and took a step, putting a yard between them.

But the French girl seemed to say something to provoke Holly, because in an instant Holly was headed back at her.

Holly's P.O.V.:
French Player: Guess it is true, all micks are gutless.

Shove me, whatever. Insult my country, bitch please. The girl froze as I approached her, fists clenched

Holly: At least I'm no classless frog.

Her face dropped the smug smile, as she shoved me again. I shoved back this time. She staggered back, only to come at me again.

Frenchy: Pauv' conne! (Stupid Bitch!)

It became a full on shoving match, until our teammates finally broke it up. The referee gave her a red card, and to top it off, I got the penalty kick.

There goalie was weak. Her senses dulled from exhaustion and humiliation. I lined up the ball, my eyes never leaving the goalies. She's already anticipating I kick it right. Thus leaving the left corner vulnerable.

Fake right. Hit left. GOAL!

The goalie dove only to hit the field in defeat. I jumped, screaming. I ran into Paige's arms, she lifted me, the rest of my team crowding around. From the stands, everyone screamed, joining in on our victory.

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