Greyhound [Marcus Rashford]

7

 I get to the field an hour before kick off. This will be my first time here since my dad left. My heartbeat increases as I get closer and closer to the entrance gate. The only reason I'm not crying is because there are thousands of loud soccer fans surrounding me.

It's my turn to show them my ticket. They scan it, check my purse, hand me booklet with information and the rosters, and let me in. I step inside and I remember that it's a new day, a new year, and a new reason to be here. I calm down, get a bite to eat from concessions, and look for my seat. I'm in section 138, row 1. Anyone that knows this stadium at all knows that this is the most coveted area in the whole place. The most central section behind the home bench and closest to the field. You can see everything from there. I've only ever dreamed of sitting here. Marcus probably knows how much this means to me, but I still can't believe how expensive of a seat I got. This is quite possibly the best day of my life.

I go to my section and sit down. This is truly amazing. I see the teams warming up. I feel bad that I'm sitting so close to these athletes that I don't know. I bet there is a little kid in the very top corner that could recite the rosters forwards and backwards. I know this because I was that kid for so many years. Regardless, I look at the team in red, searching for Marcus.

He's passing with number 14. I look at the roster and see this is Jesse Lingard. I recognize the name as the guy that was Marcus's phone earlier.

Marcus looks over in my direction, and we make eye contact. His eyes light up like a little kid and he waves at me with a big smile. He mouths, "nice shirt". I give him a thumbs up. Lingard notices me and hits Marcus upside the back of his head jokingly, as to say 'focus'. The teams head back to what I assume are their locker rooms.

Within 20 minutes the starting line ups emerge, sing their national anthem, and shake hands. Marcus is starting left wing. His team kicks off, and it all commences from there.

Neither team scored in the first half, but a huge and slightly terrifying player on Marcus's team scored the opening goal in the 52nd minute. I believe Lukaku was his name, but I prefer to refer to him as the slightly terrifying male. Manchester United had the upper hand from there. Harry Kane had a few chances on goal, but never capitalized.

It's about the 85th minute and Tottenham has a corner. They pull almost every single player into the box to try to score, but Trippier misplaces the ball front post and Luke Shaw clears it to the only Manchester player upfield, Marcus. Marcus receives the ball with an amazing first touch, and drives towards goal. He is 1 on 1 with a Tottenham back, but beats him with a burst of speed. Now it's only him and the keeper, Hugo Lloris. I'm gripping the glass divider in front of me as Marcus picks to shoot into the bottom right corner and scores. I jump up and cheer for him along with the other United fans around me. People are going crazy. It's like Manning just ran it in for the game winning touchdown in a Super Bowl or something.

His teammates all run over and congratulate him as he celebrates. He then looks over to

where I'm sitting, and points at me for a few seconds. A couple other fans pick up that it's me he's looking at, but most people don't because it was such a short moment. I don't really know if that's him rubbing it in that European football in fact has more passion and emotion over American or if he's trying to say something else.

The final whistle blows that the game is over, and United take the win 2-0 over the Hotspurs. Marcus looks like he's coming my direction when Jesse pulls him towards the changing rooms instead. I decide to follow the rest of the crowd out into the stadium.

I'm about to head to the 'L' station when Marcus texts me to get something to eat and to come back to the stadium in about an hour to meet him.

When I get back, I already see him sitting on the bench that we met at for the first time.

"Congratulations, Marcus. That goal was pretty impressive," I tell him as he greets me with a hug, "Not as exciting as a hail mary for a game winning touchdown, but still pretty exciting."

"You always find someway to backhand compliment me, but I'll take it. Did you enjoy yourself? How was the seat?" He asks with a grin.

"Amazing. It was a dream come true to be sitting there. Thank you."

"Well come on. You didn't think I'd make you come all the way here without getting onto the field?"

"No way!" I exclaim. "I get to go out onto the grass?"

"If we hurry you can. I promised one of the field managers that we'd be quick," he says as he pulls me to a side entrance. He guides me through a staff only door, and we're onto the field in no time. I leave him behind as I run out into centerfield and look around me. It's beautiful. I take my phone out and take bursts of hundreds of photos, so I can remember every inch of it.

"Enjoy the view?" He asks me with a laugh

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I tell him. He takes a picture of me.

"What was that for?" I ask him

"Well, you were taking pictures of the stadium for being beautiful, so I took a picture of you for being so beautiful," he says looking me dead in the eyes. I can't help but blank stare at him before looking down at my feet.

"You're just saying that," I say shyly.

"Because it's true. Peyton, I think you're breathtakingly beautiful and your heart is full of kindness. You deserve to know how special you are. I really, really like you. Plus, you look amazing in my clothes," he says pulling me closer to him.

"You're the best, Marcus. You're so free spirited and you always know what to say. I really like you too," I tell him in full honesty. I haven't had as much fun with a guy in my entire life.

He pulls me in and kisses me. It's slow, but sweet. When we pull away from each other, he pulls me into a big hug.

"Thank you for making this place even more special for me. I couldn't imagine ever wanting to be here with anyone else," I tell him. Out of all of the memories I have here, this will be my fondest. Marcus has transformed this place of sad nostalgia into sweet sentimentality.

"Here's to new memories," he says kissing me again.