Tottenham Hotspur

After weeks of wavering back and forth she finally confronted him:

“Can’t you leave me alone? We’re not meant for each other.”

The question didn’t shock him. He had been expecting this. The fact that she waited for weeks and left it hanging over his head had ruined a few good days, spent wondering if tonight was the night for the conversation instead of enjoying small victories in the office.

“You knew what you were getting into. It’s not like I’m keeping you from your prior commitments… I understand our relationship.”

His answer deflated her. She had hoped it would not be combative, but she knew that she had been hoping for too much. He wasn’t wrong, just the past two weeks she had two wonderful engagements and in the month to come there were another couple waiting for her.

Still, having to return to him in between her favoured events clouded he days.

“They aren’t the same anymore… Can’t you at least try to understand how I’m feeling?”

Without a moment of hesitation he poured out his feelings, knowing that there was no turning back after that.

“YOU’RE WEMBLEY! How on earth am I supposed to hold a feather to the other things you do?! You host Champions League finals, international fixtures, the FA Cup final, the Community Shield, and I am supposed to keep you excited? That’s unfair!”

Chastened, Wembley softened her tone. “Now Spurs you know that’s not what I mean –“

“But it sure as shit is what you said” whined Spurs.

“Look” said Wembley as she sat next to Spurs, “You and I both know that I had no say in this. You’re right. I hosted international friendlies the past two weeks and I loved it. In three weeks the NFL is coming for me! The NFL has left its home for two foreign suitors EVER! And I was the first. Don’t you think you are out of your league right now?”

Rolling his eyes, Spurs felt the need to defend his honour… or at the bare minimum attack hers.

“Oh don’t pull that NFL crap with me right now. Everyone knows the NFL uses you to make American cities jealous. You take the NFL’s attention even though you know it’s fake. I would happily give you that kind of attention! I promised to bring you fans to fill your seats nineteen times in the league and for Champions League matches too! Why isn’t that good enough for you??”

Wembley had a choice. She could accept the criticism and maybe salvage the evening over dinner or she could defend her honor and destroy Spurs in the process.

The choice was clear.

“Fine. You are right. I like the attention I get from International Friendlies, the NFL, and the FA Cup. You don’t have the prestige to play on my turf. Your club’s “classics” happen against clubs like West Ham, and you scrap for the right to lose in the group stage of the Champions League. You finished behind your biggest rivals for two decades – that’s longer than I’ve been alive! And you think you’re good enough for me?!”

Spurs understood that he was not the problem. Turning to leave he said over his shoulder “I’ll be back for my match on Saturday, and yes, it’s against Everton. And even if you can’t see it I know I treat you just fine. But after a year I’ll be gone playing in a beautiful new stadium that loves me and you’ll be stuck with the Carabao Cup final.”