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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 was now beginning for the Wolverines and Stingrays, our team only down by one touchdown. The cold metal bleachers touched the bare skin of my thigh, through the rips in my jeans. It had no doubt gotten colder as the night went on, and the jacket that I had brought was useless in this weather.
"I think I'm gonna call it," I breathed, a puff of precipitation clouding out from my mouth.
"There are only two more quarters left," Kiara replied, eyes focused on the field. For as long as I've known her, she's a complete geek for all things athletic.
My body shivering, I sighed, "Okay, but I'm gonna drop by the bathrooms and see if the heater will do me any justice," I told her as I stood up.
"Don't be too long," She replied before bolting up, her arms in the air as our team moved the ball down the field.
Weaving in and out of other students and parents who were unbothered by the cold, I finally made it to the stairs. Hopping down them two at a time, my hands cupped in my pocket, I headed towards the washrooms.
Pushing open the door with my foot, I saw the heater and I let out a breath of relief. Moving my hand in front of the contraption, it lit up with a red light and a loud whirling sound. I pushed my hands under it as my entire body flooded with warmth.
As I focused on keeping the heater on, a bathroom door slammed shut, making me jump in my shoes. Whipping around, the bathroom was empty. Squeezing my eyes shut, I rubbed my forehead. It was the wind, it had to be.
As I opened my eyes, I could see my shadow against the wall, dark and still. Lifting my right arm, it followed, and when I stuck out my left leg, it followed.
Of course it did, it was a shadow.
Turning back around, I stuck my hands back under the heater and let the warmth fill me up once more.
A few minutes passed and I felt that I was able to face the brisk winds of the New York night. Rubbing my hands together, I pushed open the door and walked outside. Standing a few feet away from me was a boy, a hood covering his face.
Was it him? The boy from my dream? The boy that, for some reason, I was so desperate to see again, even when he sent my pulse racing? But when the boy pulled down the hood of his blue sweatshirt and flashed me a smile, my stomach dropped. Almost as if I was disappointed. I smiled back before heading towards the bleachers.
But I stopped myself.
I wanted to know about him and I wanted to know why I was repeatedly seeing him when I was asleep. Biting my lip, I took a step back, then another, until I was heading away from the football fields and towards the town library.
The gusting wind sent my hair away from my face as I stood in front of the library doors.
