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Chapter 3
Jess. P.O.V
I woke up the next morning and recalled what had happened. Oh. My. God. I can't believe I agreed to go on ten dates with CJ! I mean, he was a good-looking guy, but...seriously? There is NOTHING good about my looks, well in my opinion.
I got out of bed and took out the new shirt that my mom had bought me, ugh. It was pink with glitter and frilly things. Everything I absolutely hated on one shirt. I threw it in my trash can. My mom was an okay mom. She did whatever she could for me, but she just can't get it through her brain that I don't want to be a girly girl.
My dad on the other hand, he was the greatest dad in the whole wide world. In fact, he was the one who got me started in soccer. I was five years old when I first started. He was really supportive of me. The sad thing is, when I turned eleven, his dad, my Grandpa Don, got diagnosed with lung cancer. My dad is really sad, when we found out, he broke down crying in front of everyone. Grandpa Don was a really nice guy who loved Spongebob. He always cracked jokes, and was the one person to go to when you are feeling sad.
My dad loved Grandpa Don, of course, because he's his dad. But more than that. He was heartbroken when he heard. It meant that in the future, there would be constant visits to the hospital. And Grandpa Don would have to develop his will to survive.
Back onto target, my dad was taking me and Grandpa Don (he lived with us) to a professional soccer game. Grandpa had gotten dad to start playing soccer, so that was one thing they talked about a lot.
Hmmmm. I thought. What should I wear? Oh who cares. I threw on a plain black T-shirt with a skull on it (no I am NOT emo) and a pair of plain black basketball shorts. Did I mention my favorite color was black? Oh, another thing, I also play basketball a little bit, and volleyball. My gym teacher keeps telling me I should join the team, but I don't want to wear those short skirts while I'm playing, it's not comfortable.
"Honey, it's time to go. Do you have a water bottle and a cap?" I can't believe he still calls a "hat" a "cap", so old-fashioned. But who cares, this is my dad we're talking about.
I grabbed my favorite hat, it was from China. My best friend got it for me while we were there. Looping my ponytail through the hole in the back, I hollered down, "Coming Dad!" I stomped down the stairs and headed out the front door to the car.
It was a blue punch buggy, my blue punch buggy. I remember when I was twelve and I said to my dad, "Daddy, I want a punch buggy when I grow up! 'Cuz when I drive by, people can punch each other!" My dad just laughed when I said that. He had a great sense of humor, unlike my mother...
"I call shotgun!" I sprinted to shotgun, opened the door and buckled in before my dad could say no.
"Jess, you know Grandpa has to sit there."
"Okay, sorry I forgot." I unbuckled and climbed over the seat to get in the back.
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The air smelled like freshly mowed grass. Is that supposed to smell good? I'm not sure. But it felt awesome to be here in a stadium where real professional soccer players had games. I closed my eyes and day dreamt about becoming a famous soccer player one day.
THUMP. I bumped into someone and fell down. I rubbed the back of my head and looked up and saw the same dark blue eyes. "So we meet again." He says, grinning as he helps me up.
"How come every time we see each other, I end up on the ground or getting stuff on me?"
"Maybe you're still in shock from falling in love with me when I kicked that ball and it hit you and I talked to you, and every time you sense my presence, you get overwhelmed and trip and fall."
