The number of his football jersey stood out most of all then any of the others. In bold, black writing was the number 17 right under his last name, Tomlinson.
I sat on the bleachers, my brown eyes following his every move. I would watch as his team mates came up to him and patted his back in reassurance every time he missed a goal, and I will cheer when he scored, along with everyone else in the crowd.
To them, he was just number 17, another player in the Doncaster Rovers football team.
To me, he was the best football player in the world, my crush, my life.
To him, I was just another girl in the crowd.
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FanfictionEleanor would drive for an hour everyday, just to see number 17 play. All Rights Reserved 2014 - omgzerrie
