Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 45: A Friendly Bet

Chapter 45: A Friendly Bet

The Anzhi supporter’s laughter stopped abruptly, his face scrunching into a frown as his eyes narrowed on Adam who was still laughing disdainfully.

The rest of the table followed his gaze, their expressions ranging from irritation to curiosity on the foreign looking dude.

"Chto zdes’ smeshnóvo? (What’s so funny?)" the Anzhi fan demanded, his deep voice cutting through the warm chatter of the café.

Adam leaned back in his chair while trying to stifle his grin but he failed miserably. He waved a hand dismissively, as though brushing off their annoyance, but the smirk on his face only deepened.

"Oh, it’s nothing. Just... five-nil, huh?" he said audibly with his tone carrying more mockery than he likely intended.

Benjamin shot him a warning look and his fingers tightening around his mug. "Adam," he muttered under his breath, but his friend either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him.

The stocky man leaned forward, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. His brows furrowed as he studied Adam and Benjamin, suspicion slowly creeping into his features. "Otkúda vy dvóye? (Where are you two from?)"

Benjamin didn’t understand the words, but the man’s tone made the meaning clear. He straightened in his seat, and glanced at Adam, who seemed unfazed by the man’s intense gaze.

Adam shrugged nonchalantly while still smirking. "Oh, we’re just normal football fans who came to enjoy the city, you know? Nothing more."

The Anzhi fan didn’t look convinced at all. His gaze shifted to Benjamin, who tried to appear as casual as possible while sipping his tea slowly.

"You laugh at Anzhi?" the man asked again, but this time in English. His English was heavily accented but was still understandable.

Adam met his eyes directly, his smile faltering just enough to appear polite. "Not at Anzhi," he said in a light tone. "Just at the idea of five-nil. It’s a bold prediction on your part."

The group at the table exchanged glances and their moods immediately turned sour. The Anzhi supporter snorted while leaning back in his seat. "Bold? No, it’s realistic... Your AZ Alkmaar doesn’t stand a chance here. Russian football is stronger, faster and better."

Benjamin’s brows furrowed at the words. He felt the urge to respond but bit it back, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation. Adam, however, was quite the opposite as he had no such restraint.

"Well," Adam began, leaning forward slightly. "I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?"

The tension at the nearby table could clearly be felt now, the laughter from earlier was replaced by steely glares from a group of matured men on two barely legal-aged youths.

The guitarist in the corner of the café kept playing, oblivious to the growing unease in the room.

Benjamin sighed, setting down his mug with a soft clink. "You really know how to make friends, don’t you?" he muttered, his voice low enough for only Adam to hear.

Adam chuckled softly, giving him a sidelong glance. "Relax, it’s just a little banter. They’ll get over it soon enough."

Benjamin wasn’t so sure about that. The Anzhi supporter continued to glare at them while his fingers tapped against the table as though he were sizing them up.

Whatever might happen next, Benjamin had a feeling that their peaceful night out was coming to a closure.

The Anzhi supporter’s fingers stilled, and a slow, mocking grin spread across his face.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his eyes locked onto Adam with predatory amusement. "If you are not convinced," he said, his tone laced with challenge, "maybe we settle this with a bet."

Adam’s brows rose slightly, and a flicker of interest appeared in his eyes. But he hesitated slightly, and his fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the table.

The Anzhi fan caught the slight hesitation and seized on it, his grin widening. "Of course," he continued, his voice dropping into a fake-consoling tone, "you can choose not to. Maybe you are... how do you say... scared? Or perhaps you don’t trust your team as much as you say?"

The mocking jab hit its mark as Adam’s jaw tightened, and his playful demeanor shifted for the first time. He leaned forward, his smirk gone and was replaced by a determined glint in his eyes. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth.

Benjamin’s head snapped toward him. "Adam, don’t be stupid," he said, his voice low but firm. "You don’t have to prove anything to these guys."

Adam waved him off without looking. "Relax, Ben. It’s just a bit of fun," he said while his gaze remained fixed on the Anzhi fan.

The man leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself, and he spread his hands out. "Good..good. So, the terms," he said, his voice practically dripping with satisfaction.

Adam didn’t immediately respond, instead, he crossed his arms and adopted a waiting posture.

The Anzhi supporter’s eyes gleamed and he leaned forward again, his tone turning smug. "One hundred euros," he said, tapping the table for emphasis.

Adam paused for a moment, and then a faint smirk returned to his lips. He tilted his head slightly, as though weighing the offer, then let out a mock chuckle. "A hundred euros? That’s a small amount. But," he added with a sly glance, "it’s reasonable... considering you might be scared of losing."

The Anzhi fan’s smug expression faltered and his nostrils flared slightly. He snorted, waving off Adam’s words. "Small, you say? What amount is acceptable to you?"

Adam didn’t hesitate this time. "At least, Five hundred euros," he said smoothly, his tone sounded casual as if he were discussing the Makhachkala weather.

The Anzhi fan blinked, his confidence wavering for a fraction of a second. He couldn’t be blamed as the equivalent of five hundred euros in Russian Ruble was at least, twenty thousand.

He glanced at his friends, who all exchanged uncertain looks. He let out a loud "humpf" and straightened his scarf, his pride not allowing him to back down. "Fine," he said, his voice firm but strained. "Five hundred euros."

Adam nodded, clearly satisfied with the outcome. He leaned back in his chair, his mood visibly lifted. Benjamin, on the other hand, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh. He gulped down the last of his tea, the warmth doing little to soothe his frustration.

"Alright, you’ve had your fun. Let’s go," Benjamin said, his tone clipped as he gestured toward the door.

Adam hesitated for a moment, but then he stood up reluctantly and his chair scraped against the floor. But as Benjamin turned to leave, Adam stopped. He spun back toward the Anzhi fan, his grin returning with a mischievous edge.

"By the way," Adam said, pointing to the guitarist in the corner, "I won’t be here after the game tomorrow. So, give my winnings to that gentleman over there."

The Anzhi fan’s face twisted in confusion at his confident statement, but Adam didn’t wait for a reply. He turned on his heel, following Benjamin toward the exit while letting out a hearty laughter that sounded undeniably pleased.

Benjamin shook his head at his childish antics as they stepped out into the chilly night, the door swinging shut behind them. "You’re impossible, you know that right?" he muttered.

Adam just grinned in response. "What can I say? I like making things interesting."