deep blue eyes // Antoine Griezmann

Chapter 1 - Football Practice

I feel the warm, evening sunlight fall on my arms, as my eyes absently travel over the football pitch, and all the guys practicing today.

I try to keep my eyes off of a certain boy.

"Okay, guys," my friend Rachel says to us other three girls sitting here. Often times, after a long day of school, the four of us come out here and just talk and hang out.

And watch the guys practice.

"Yeah?" I ask. "What's up, Rach?"

"Which guy playing out there do you think is the hottest?"

My friend Elizabeth, with her wavy, long blond hair says, "The cutest guy out there? Well, you know I'm going to have to say Mbappe."

"Ew, no way! Mbappe?" Tori says, doing a disgusted face. "Everyone knows that Neymar is, like, the hottest guy in the school."

Both Rachel and Elizabeth laugh and nod in agreement.

"So, Sage, you don't seem to agree?"

"Nah, Neymar is alright. He's decent." I smile, watching him dribble the ball passed another guy. The guys are scrimmaging right now. I always enjoy watching them scrimmage the most. Drills aren't interesting, but scrimmaging certainly is to me.

"Just decent? Come on, Sage, we know you like someone. We girls see the way your eyes survey the pitch everyday. You're always watching someone but I can never tell who," Elizabeth explains.

I feel my face heat up, and God, do I hope they don't see my face redden.

Apparently, they do. "Sagey, we can see you blushing!" Tori giggles in a sing-songy voice.

"There's got to be one of three guys she's looking at," Rachel start. I roll my eyes.

"How would you know that?" I ask, a little too harshly.

"Ooooo! Sage is getting defensive now!" Elizabeth grins. "Rachel, what are the three boys you think she could like?"

"Well, I think she could like Neymar, just because he's literally like the most perfect guy in this whole school. Well, actually, no. He's the second perfect-"

"Who's the most perfect, in your opinion?" Tori cuts in.

I watch as blood now rushes to Rachel's cheeks. "Don't you guys know?"

"No!" Elizabeth and Tori say in unison.

"He's only the cutest, hottest, most charming guy in the school!"

"To me, girl, it sounds like you're describing Neymar," Tori says.

Rachel says, "Well, everyone has their own opinion, but I think it's that blue-eyed Antoine Griezmann."

Just the mention of his name makes my stomach lurch. Rachel likes Griezmann? That can't be! Now I really can't tell her that-

"So, anyway, Sage. Who do you like? Just tell us. Your secret is safe with me. I know it must be either Neymar, Griezmann, or Messi."

"Messi?" I snort. "Why on earth do you think I like him? I mean, I don't like any of those boys," I lie. "But especially not Messi."

"Well, you just always seem to stare at him, is all," Rachel shrugs.

"I bet," Elizabeth begins. "I bet Sage's crush is Messi, and she's reacting like that so greatly because she doesn't want us to think that. Plus, he seems like the type of weirdo that Sage would like, you know?"

"Oh yeah..." Tori mutters. All three pairs of eyes look at me.

I don't deny it, because I'd rather have them thinking I have a crush on Messi than the boy I really like. Especially now that I know Rachel is into him, too, now.

Just then, we hear footsteps coming up the old, metal bleachers that we're sitting on. The three of us look up to see him, the real legend, standing right there, walking up the stairs.

Antoine Griezmann.

Rachel leans over to the three of us and whispers, "Don't you guys dare tell him."

We all say we won't, although I'm extremely tempted to tell him and ruin it all for my friend.

That's the thing. Rachel is gorgeous. I, on the other hand, am absolutely not. Which means she totally has a better chance with him than me. Besides, I'm too scared to even tell my friends who I like, let alone the actual person.

Once he reaches us, he stands on the bleacher, grinning at the four of us for a few seconds, before demanding, "Why do you guys always watch us practice?"

The sun is getting lower and lower in the sky by the second, painting beautiful pink streaks across it, but I just want to go home. I feel sick from butterflies.

"Because, this is a nice place to sit and watch the sunset. I'm sorry if this destroys your ego, mister, but it's got nothing to do with the fact that you guys practice here every night," Rachel says, crossing her arms at him.

How does she do that? How does she just talk to her crush so easily like that? How?

"Aw, man. I think that's a lie."

Of course it's a lie, Griezmann! Of course it's a lie!

"Thanks for sharing your opinion," Elizabeth grins. How can they talk with him as if they've known him for years? This is likely the first time he's ever spoken to any of us.

"So why'd you come up to see us, huh?" Tori asks.

"It's got nothing to do with you," he comments, turning around to look at the falling sun in the sky. "I left my water bottle up there on the top bench."

"You've got a water bottle in your hand," Rachel points out.

"I left that one there yesterday, and I just remembered I have to take it." He marches up to the top bench on the bleacher and grabs a lone grey water bottle.

He then starts leaping down the bleacher, with such great balance that I have to look away.

"See you girls later, then!" he calls behind him, not even looking back as he runs across the football pitch to the gate on the other side.

"Oh. My. God," Rachel says simply, and Tori and Elizabeth start giggling, too. I start laughing, too, but for a completely different reason. All the emotion I was holding in when he was there, trying to look casual, all comes out, and I laugh.

Nervous laughing? Maybe. Probably. But happy laughing too, because I just talked to Antoine Griezmann.

Oh, wait a second.

No, I didn't.