Blue Moon, Baby.

2 // Hit me with your best shot... But not literally.

     The game begins and I have no idea what the hell is happening. Yeah, I get that the objective is for our team to dribble (Is that what it's called? Dribbling?) the ball down the field and kick it into the goal, which they are, but I have no idea what the positions are and it's kind of getting bored. I check my phone for the time: 6:13pm; it's only been less then an hour. I sigh and sulk, rubbing my hands together for warmth in the chilly breeze. It's probably around 57 degrees and the fact that the team's are wearing lousy shorts and a jersey, some with a thin long sleeved shirt underneath, makes my stomach feel like it's getting frostbite. I need an excuse to get up and move around or else I might as well become Santa Clause, grow a beard, and live in the north pole just to freeze my butt off. 

"I'm going to go see if they're selling hot chocolate at the concession stand, any requests?" I ask Heather, her eyes peel away from the game for a moment to answer.

"Sure, what about... a water?" She smiles, hopefully.

"You're crazy," I widen my eyes and raise my brows only to earn a shrug in response. I stand up, trying not to trip, slip, or fall in any other manner in front of all the people watching the game from behind us. I carefully make my way down the bleachers, avoiding bumping into people, and land on the solid cement with relief. I speed-walk around the fence, looking downwards and taking casual glances at the field in order to avoid eye contact with anyone in the stands. 

     I get to the concession stand and wait in back of an older couple, probably here to support their son as he plays. The woman snuggles up next to her husband, he leans over to kiss her on her forehead and I feel a fuzzy feeling spread throughout my belly. That's what I want, innocent kisses that have feelings to back it up, not sloppy ones that have no significance in the means of everything. The line moves slightly as someone walks away carrying a hot bowl of nachos. I look around the older couple to see that there's three more people ahead waiting to-

"Porter, my home girl!" I hear a voice behind me. I turn around and find myself standing face to face with a hispanic boy: Greg, an aqquaintence that I share my Introduction to Communication class with. 

"Hey, Greg." I muster up a small smile. 

"Never thought I'd see you here."

"Yeah, neither did I." I groan, earning a chuckle from him. He places his hands on his hips and stretches his back as he reads the list of food items to choose from.

"What are you getting?" He asks.

"Hot chocolate and a water. Hard time deciding?" I bite my lip from laughing at his troubled face. It's just a concession stand, not a decision between which friend to save as the world's about to end.

"I don't know if I want pizza..." He itches his shoulder, "or a burger." 

"When in doubt, always choose pizza."

"Thanks,"

"Words to live by." I half-shrug, turning back around to face the line ahead of me, now realizing the the couple in front of me is receiving their food. 

"Can I get one hot chocolate and a bottle of water?" I smile politely as I step up to the stand.

"Of course." The girl gives a toothy grin, turning around to grab a hot chocolate as another helper goes to the fridge to get a bottle. 

"Thank you," I hand four dollars to her and grab the two drinks.

"See ya," I wave to Greg with the water in my hand.

"Adios, Porter." 

***

"Yes, Calum!" Heather screams as Calum stops the ball from going into the goal.