Greyhound [Marcus Rashford]

5

 After drying off, Marcus and I took a selfie with one of the faces on Crown Fountain, danced around in the middle of the Bean, and had nice conversations while eating some churros from a stand in the lawn.

"It's getting late, I need to head back for the team dinner tonight and prepare for the match tomorrow," he says with a hint of sadness in his voice, "Thank you for today, Peyton. You were the best tour guide someone could ask for."

"You don't have to thank me for hanging out with you, Marcus. I had fun today too," I tell him. I had an amazing time with him, making new memories in these old places.

"I'm glad I got the full American experience, although I still don't agree that American football is more emotional than ours."

"Well you didn't quite convince me the other way either," I joke.

"Then I've got one ticket to my game tomorrow night with your name on it," he tells me.

"You're not serious?" I ask him.

"Of course I am. I kind of owe you a fun night after you helped me have a great day today," he says genuinely, "Give me your phone, so I can put my number in it. Then text me your hotel address that I can have a ticket sent over to tonight or tomorrow morning."

I hand over my phone with my contacts app open, "You really don't have to."

"But I want to," he says, "Plus, how else am I to convince you. You have to see the best team in the world play in order to understand."

"I didn't know you were playing FC Barcelona!" I joke with a cheeky grin. He gives me the most annoying look ever. It's so fun to push his buttons.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that. Now I have to run, but I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure to look out for number 19!" he says giving me a quick hug. He kisses me on the cheek before he runs off towards the closest 'L' station. I just stand there like a dummy with my hand over the cheek Marcus kissed and a big

smile on my face.

I finally head over to my hotel and text Marcus the address and my room number for him to send a ticket over. I decide to stay in tonight and order room service. I spend my night watching Fixer Upper reruns and eating mediocre salad, until I'm ready for bed. It's kind of sad that I'm not in my own home every night, but being in Chicago has brought so many surprises. I think I was mean to come here.

At around 9 pm, there is a knock at my door. I look out the peephole and see a hotel worker.

"Can I help you?" I ask her.

"I'm just delivering this box that arrived for you," she says and hand me a small package. I thank her, and close the door. I open it up to find a ticket to Marcus's game along with a jersey, that's obviously for his team, Manchester United. There's also a little note at the bottom

'Peyton-

Can't wait to see you in red and yellow tomorrow night. I couldn't get a kit in your size under short notice, but please wear one of mine! You'll be a true Red Devil after you see us play.

<3 Marcus'

I lift out the shirt and see it's at least 2 sizes too large and Men's. When I flip it over I see 'Rashford 19'. It also smells really nice. I can't wait to look like a Rashford super fan tomorrow night. It wouldn't be false advertisement.