I still remember it like it was yesterday.
Freshman Year. Holding the small, folded note book paper, trying to keep it from the teacher's wandering eyes. I lowered the paper under the wooden desk, cringing slightly when it made a rather louder noise since it was so silent in the classroom full of
working students. My heart was beating fast as I slowly opened the wrinkled paper with the familiar hand writing that read
Do you like me? Check yes or no
The boxes were drawn poorly but noticeably bold at the bottom. I couldn't hide the blush that found its' way to my cheeks when I read the signature.
Harry
Harry had always been my best friend since I moved from America to England in 5th grade. He took me under his wing, making me feel comfortable in such a forgein place. He was always the popular guy, the kind of guy the girls fall head over heals for. The jock, you could say. I still remember getting seated right next to him on the very first day of school, his cheeky smile and deep dimples were so welcoming.
"I'm Harry" he said, his British accent taking me aback.
"I'm Dylan" I whispered, not wanting to interrupt the lecturing teacher.
"Ah, American?" he smiled.
I just nodded my head and tried not to make too much eye contact at the cheeky boy sitting to the right of me. Throughout the day, he gave me a tour of the school, walked with me to lunch, and even sat next to me in the classes we had together when clearly he had his own assigned seat. I was even given a nickname.
Dill.
As I sat there in 3rd period staring at the crinkled note in my hands, my heart fluttered. What was I supposed to do? My mind was telling me one thing but my heart was yearning for another. Shocking myself, I grabbed the pencil and checked off the box. The box that would change everything.
(Sophomore year) I strolled into the cayatic hall of the high school, glancing from left to right at the hormonal teens talking to their friends or being kicked out of a class by an angry teacher.
I was dressed in an old grey sweater that I found at the thrift store down the street, ripped skinny jeans, black combat boots (my favorite article of clothing) and my hair lazily pulled into a messy bun. I looked and felt comfortable.
I was known for being "popular" as others called it because I was dating the captain of the soccer team. I wouldn't describe myself as popular; I was honestly extremely quirky.
I held my books tightly to my body, my floral print bag swaying by my side. The unmistakable blue varsity jacket came into vision as I looked at the towering figure standing before me. His mop of curls hanging loosely around his beautiful face. He wore the pair of dark denim jeans I bought him for his birthday present last year and a pair of white converse. He actually looked perfect, to me anyway.
He held up a piece of paper with black letters printed on it under my nose. I grasped the paper and read over it quickly, not being able to contain the smile that spread across my face.
"I made it" he smiled, showing off his dimples.
His dimples were so adorable. They added so much character to him.
I read the paper over and over again. I couldn't believe it.
He made it.
He made it into the National Soccer League!
I jumped into his arms and nuzzled my face into his neck. His laughter warmed my insides and made me smile. He had been trying so hard to get into the NSL for a very long time. He has had over 40 scouts come to watch his games, each one seeming to be unimpressed. Finally, he made it.
