For Your Eyes Only

8

Loud cheering fills the air as the cool North Carolina wind nips at my bare shoulders. Alyssa winks over at me as the crowd busts out in frantic applause when Danny scores his second touchdown of the night.

The too short miniskirt rustles around my legs as the night air begins to pick up. After multiple high kicks I am beginning to feel exhausted. I used to love cheering. I used to love Danny pointing my way as if to say "that one was for you, baby." But now I feel overly fake and cheery with both topics.

There used to be no better feeling than friday night lights for the Stanton Stallions. The cool night air where the school year went from summer weather to fall weather in weeks, the craze of the crowd and student section, homecoming; Everything left a happy bubble in the air.

I am good at putting on a happy face. You don't make it to the top of the pyramid without knowing how to play the game. But I have found that my smile is now a little too big and my high ponytail is too tight.

Danny pounds his chest with one of his teammates along with giving them a smack to the helmet. He lives for this kind of attention.

I scan the crowd of swarming reds and blacks as people rise to their feet and hoot and holler for our football team. I continue to rustle my pom pom together as I scan the crowd for the one face I am most interested in seeing.

I asked him in class if he was coming to the game but he never gave me a yes or a no answer. But sometimes a maybe meant yes, right?

I don't know why I am so curious about this boy but I am not going to let anyone take that curiousity away. Therefore, I didn't tell anyone about my thoughts of Nathaniel. I am not in the right state of mind to be able to handle their judgement that is bound to weigh heavy there.

They've already commented on my random talks with Nate whether they be in class or the halls. I did my best to ignore them because in all honesty, I didn't care what they thought. Not like I used to. It finally dawned on me that once we all graduate, none of this is going to matter. No one is going to care about who you dated in high school or if you were cheer captain. It would all be small talk of reminiscing on 'the good ol' days at class reunions. It's not going to shape who you are in the future.

Mostly I am afraid of what they will say to Nate. I don't want to bring a worst fate on him than what was already done.

As if the world was rubbing karma in my face with it's grubby hand, Nate's face appears in my peripheral vision. He is standing near the concession stand away from all the other bodies. He sports his regular attire: grey hoodie, jeans, and glasses.

He isn't alone though.

Beside him stands a busty redhead that I knew as Molly Hamilton, who seems to be talking his ear off. If I remember correctly, Molly was there the night of the accident. She was with Nate in the open field.

My stomach clenches. I suddenly feel the need to vomit the blue slushy that I had right before the game.

I don't know if the feeling is because reminders can pop up anywhere at whatever time or if it is because Nate is talking to another girl.

Nate, though very shy and introverted, is a good looking guy. It is a handsome that is underestimated. Nothing too in your face like Harry Styles, with his screaming good looks and dimpled cheeks that could make any living, breathing, creature drop to their knees in awe. Or Bradley Cooper with his chiseled jaw and scruffy nature. Nate's is more subtle. More pure. More good-nature, with his golden eyes and breathtaking smile that appears once in a blue moon to knock the wind out of you.

I haven't seen him interact with anyone, now to think of it, since he's been back at school. Not even his old friends. I'm not sure where he sat in the school cafeteria and I don't know where his locker is. He is a complete mystery to me.