Desirable No. 1

1

AN: This is my first time writing a fan fiction, so please make sure to leave comments below on how I can make the story better and if you notice anything that needs to be fixed! :) - Emma
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"Sam!" I whip my head around, seeing Elise dribbling towards me. I become confused for a second. But I'm ready for it. Elise sends a cross my way and I take a millisecond to turn it in the direction I'm going. I push my way past the final defender and bring my foot back, turning it slightly to aim for the back of the net as I quickly follow through and take the shot. I watch in amazement as it flies past KU's goalie and hits the netting of the goal. My jaw drops. That makes five uni goals for me. As a right middy, I normally set up goals for the forwards with the help of the left middy, Evie. I sudden feel the weight of five other bodies crushing into me, my fellow players on the field; Evie, Elise; who plays forward, Aggie; defender number one, Victoria; defender number two, and Alice, our goalie. I hear my other teammates on the bench screaming and cheering. Mizzou's now up by one point in overtime, in the last game of the season.

The bliss lasts for about another five seconds before we rush back into our prospective spots so we can attempt to hold off Kansas University's offense for the last two minutes of the game. As the ball is put back into play, I feel adrenaline pump through my veins. The stadium around me is roaring. Everyone knows we've got the game in the bag. For the next 180 seconds, we keep possession of the ball, occasionally having to nutmeg an opponent to avoid losing the ball. When the final whistle blows, I pump my fist in the air and kick the ball in a random direction, jumping up and down. All of my teammates run collectively to the center of the field and practically jump on top of each other, I myself in the middle and cheering loudly. An unbreakable smile spreads across my face. We've won the championship. I lose myself in the bone crushing embrace of the others and let that sink in.

•                         •

The rest of the night is a blur. What seems like a quick celebration at Shakespeare's, lots of photos, and then I'm leaving the restaurant. I'm about to get into my car when I feel a firm hand on my arm. I startle slightly and reach for my purse as I turn around, relaxing when I see the apologetic face of a short, slightly built man with a suit and tie on, holding a briefcase. Then I tense up again. It's a talent agent.

"Samira, right? Johnson? Number...." He wrinkles his eyebrows and concentrates for a few moments. I cut in to help.

"Twenty."

"Right. I'm Michael Ennets. Nice to meet you." He holds out his hand. Shakily, I take it and exchange a handshake with him.

"N-nice to meet you too, sir. How are you tonight?" Stupid.

"I'm quite well. Amazing, actually. Now, let's cut to the chase. You played brilliantly tonight. I, and my other colleagues from NWSL were very impressed. I rushed out as I saw you leaving, because I have a few questions to ask you."

If I had been drinking water right then, I would have choked on it and died. He just said NWSL. As in the National Women's Soccer League. It took everything I had in me to burst out screaming and die.

"We'd like to recruit you for one of our upcoming camps. Portland's looking for some new players, and so they're having a camp up in New York in a few weeks."

Now I'm really panicking. On the inside, of course. This means I could be recruited by the Portland Thorns. My favorite team in the NWSL, next to the Chicago Red Stars. I've watched both teams since I was five, aspiring to be like them one day.

"You're pulling my leg, right?"

"If I was, I'd be kneeling on the ground with my hands around your knee cap. But I'm not. See?" He holds his arms out, letting his briefcase dangle from his fingers. "So, whaddya say?"