Greyhound [Marcus Rashford]

6

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing. I see that it's almost noon. I answer without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello," I croak with a morning voice.

"Good morning, I didn't mean to wake you up," it was Marcus laughing on the other line, "Most human beings are out and about by now."

"I guess I'm not your average human being then," I respond.

"No, you are not," he tells me, "I was just making sure you got my package last night with the ticket. I'm looking forward to seeing you there tonight. I told all my teammates you were coming, so it would be pretty embarrassing if you were a no show." He told his friends about me?

"Thank you, I did, but you didn't need to also send one of your jerseys over. I could have just worn something I already own."

"I wouldn't want anyone to confuse you as a Spurs fan, now would I?" he jokes, "It really was no problem, I get a new one almost every match. Plus, I wanted everyone to know who your favorite player is."

"Well, thank you anyways." After I thank him, we talk for around half an hour about our plans for the day and game day superstitions. Fun fact, I only ate Wheaties for breakfast on Colt's game days from the boxes with Peyton Manning on the front. I even ate them dry because I didn't want to mess up my routine. Also, for the entire 2008 season I never washed my jersey because I thought it was lucky. Marcus found that both disgusting and hilarious.

"I've got to go see the trainer and watch some film for tonight, but I'll talk to you after the game," he tells me.

"Okay, good luck!" I tell him. I wait for him to hang up but I think he's waiting for me to hang up.

"Are you still there?" I ask him.

"Yeah I was hoping you'd hang up," he laughs.

"I was waiting for you to hang up,"

"Sweet Jesus, I'll freaking hang up for the both of you. I cannot handle one of those "no, young hang up" fights today. No sir, not on my watch," I hear from a third voice with an English accent in the background. The last thing before the line cuts I hear a muffled, "Stop eavesdropping, Jess!' from who I assume is Marcus. I guess his friends really do know about me. Does that mean he likes me more than just a friends, or what? I feel like I need to talk to one of my friends about him too. I text one of my roomates, Meghan, and hope she calls me soon.

I put on some running clothes, and head out for a jog around the city. I usually don't feel compelled to work out, like ever, but being around such an athletic guy kind of makes me want to get more in shape. My body type is somewhere between 'I go to the gym twice a week' to 'You can totally tell that I love Totino's pepperoni pizza rolls way too much'.

I stop at a sandwich shop and get a late lunch, seeing as it's almost 2:30 now, before I head back to my hotel to get ready for Marcus's game. I eat and hop in the shower.

I feel the need to not look like a 130 lb garbage bag tonight since Marcus told his team I was coming, so I straighten my hair. I don't really own any makeup, but I put on the mascara that I still have in my bag from junior prom. That ought to work. I then put on some black shorts, Marcus's jersey, and my black converse. I have to tuck the front of the jersey in so it looks like I'm wearing pants. I'm 5'7" so it's not like I'm short, but Marcus's jersey still swamps me. It looks kind of cute though.

If I want to catch an L train that will get me to Soldier Field in time to find my seat before kick off, I need to leave soon. I grab my purse and head out. This should be an interesting night.