The World Cup Bet

“I think this is the place…” Amanda looked at her phone. Unless the GPS was wrong, she was in front of the bar she was looking for. The windows were so dirty she couldn’t look inside, but the patrons were chanting so loud she could hear them into the street.

Taking a deep breath, Amanda opened the door. The bar was spacious but poorly lit. Most of the light came from the TVs hanging from the walls. Her heels clanked as she stepped inside and looked for her friend. As much as she would have loved to avoid attention, everyone gave her a stink eye as she passed by. It's not like she could hide. Amanda was a tall girl, you could see her from the other side of the bar.

It didn't take a genius to know why the pubgoers weren't keen on her presence. Amanda was wearing a sensible brown skirt that she'd like to think complimented her peachy skin without drawing too much attention to herself. Sadly, in that particular bar, it stood out like a sore thumb.

Everyone was wearing some combination of red and yellow, the walls were covered in Spanish flags, and the commentators on the TVs mostly spoke in Spanish as well. Amanda was the only girl in the bar that wasn't wearing even a red sock to support their favorite team.

Well, nothing to it. Amanda went deeper inside, looking for her friend. The place was crowded, every table full of cheering patrons. Evie wasn't there yet. Amanda kept her head down and went to sit in the only place that was still empty, a couple of stools near the bar.

“Oye hijita, you lost?” Amanda looked up. A pair of narrow brown eyes were staring at her. They belonged to an athletic woman with fair chocolate skin and a black ponytail. She was also clad in the colors of Spain, wearing the official uniform. “If you want a place to let loose, I suggest you go to the Irish pub down the street. In case you could not tell, we are going to watch the World Cup.”

The woman was right, this was not Amanda's kind of place, but Evie wanted to go somewhere they could watch the games. This was the closest bar to both their apartments where they could do so. “Errr, I'm waiting for a friend, but thanks anyway! Can I get a …beer?”

“Just a beer? No brand preference? Suit yourself.” The bartender placed a mug of beer in front of Amanda and she nervously gulped it. People were still giving her side-eyes… Wait, who was Spain playing against? She wasn't wearing their rival's colors, right? No, they were playing against a white and black Germany, thank goodness.

Amanda took another sip of her mug while hastily texting her friend. The way they were staring, she might as well be an alien to those people. She wasn't fitting in at all.

Nah, she was making a mountain out of an anthill. Once the ball got rolling, no one would pay attention to her, and she could enjoy some peace and quiet with her friend. Maybe have a little side game of their own... Everything was going to be fine so long as Evie didn’t…

“Hey, Amanda, ready to watch Spain's dreams sink like it's 1588?” The door was kicked open. A pretty woman came in. She had a cute round face, full red lips, and sandy-blonde hair framing her soft features. She was lithe and tall like Amanda, but with more curves to fill in her clothes. And boy, they could not be filling a less fitting outfit.

Red tennis shoes, knee-high socks with the German colors, a black skirt, a white shirt with the German emblem, and most damming of all, she had the German flag painted on her cheeks. The bar immediately booed when she set foot inside, shouting and jeering like a medieval mob about to burn a witch.

Amanda buried her face deep into her palms. Yep, that was Evie. Of course, she came looking like a German player. She could scarcely believe it. Evie, the meek Pokémon obsessed nerd, the geekiest girl she knew, was standing proud in German memorabilia and staring down a whole bar.

She would usually buckle under the pressure, her knees shaking like maracas, but not now. She was unflinching for some reason. “Ok, you are definitely lost. Out of my bar,” the bartender yelled.

“No, she is, erm, the friend I mentioned,” Amanda quickly got to her feet and walked next to Evie. “But maybe she is right. Maybe we should go somewhere less… Spanish?” Amanda whispered to her friend.

“What? And miss the chance to see all these idiots cry paella tears when their team gets dismantled with German efficiency? Not a chance.” Evie strutted to the bar, the constant verbal **** sliding out her skin like soap. A stupefied Amanda followed.

“Paella tears? What does that even mean?!” Where did this confidence come from? Sure, Evie had a competitive side, but never like this. Did she like football that much? Huh, maybe that was why she disappeared for a week in college during the last World Cup finals…