The OutCast's Stalker

005

I decided to go to my first football game to watch Michael play.

He is starting tonight—whatever that means—and he really wanted me there. Once Sam heard that he invited me, she wouldn't give up the subject and begged me all week to go. I eventually caved in and accepted their non-stop badgering.

As we entered the stadium, the energy was electric. The stands were full of cheering high schoolers and parents. The lights illuminated the field and blinded my eyes. I pushed and shoved through the crowd huddled around the concessions.

We finally reached a semi-empty row and claimed our seats in the stands. I watched as all the guys stretched and warmed up on the fields. Where is Michael?

"I'm number 14, my jersey has Pierce on it, so you can't miss me," Michael's words from earlier repeated in my brain.

I could even hear his smirk. He always has a sly smirk on his face.

"There goes number 14, oh, he's so fine! Hi Michael!" A girl's screechy voice erupted behind me.

I quickly scan the field, and sure enough, there he goes throwing the ball to one of his teammates.

"They're after your mans girl!" Sam chuckles.

I can't help but feel my jealousy rise.

"Apparently everyone loves him," I roll my eyes, "But you know he's not my man."

"Well, I'll take him. He's tall and has a nice..." She held her hands to her eyes like binoculars, "Butt!" She smirks.

I couldn't help but look.

"He does have a nice personality, a great one indeed," I nod, smirking.

The stands were packed on both sides. The announcer blares in the intercoms the players' names and all the formalities that come right before the game starts, or kick off, as they call it.

*

The first 8 minutes on the board–about 30 "real" minutes–went by in an uneventful blur. I cheered when everyone cheered to fit in, but the score hasn't gone up yet, and I'm not sure what we're celebrating. I'm ready to leave already, but I promised to stay the whole game.

The team huddles in and chants right before running onto the field. Michael also ran on the field. He's finally about to play, thank God.

"Henry is asking if we want to watch a movie tomorrow," Sam says, looking at her phone.

"Sure, depends on the time."

"He's thinking 7pm?"

"That works honestly—"

The crowd erupted into cheers. I quickly looked towards the field to see the one and only Michael running with the ball toward the end zone.

"Interception! Atta boy!" A random dad cheers in front of me.

The crowd went wild as he crossed the goal line, end zone, or whatever it's called.

"TOUCHDOWN!! NUMBER 14, MICHAEL PIERCE!" The announcer enthusiastically screams into the mic.

Sam hugged me in excitement, then high-fived me. I watched Michael celebrate with his teammates. How did I end up friends with a jock? He took his helmet off as he walked off the field, getting shoulder pats and cheers from everyone around him.

"Dude, did you see that!" Sam exclaims.

"That was actually exciting. What do they call it again when he takes the ball from the other team?"