Greyhound [Marcus Rashford]

8

 Marcus and I sat in the center circle of the field for about an hour. We talked about anything and everything from school, to sports, to our favorite Netflix series. I opened up about my family, my dad's leaving, my mom's passing, and my brother's deceiving. He is a great listener and always made me feel comfortable talking about uncomfortable memories. He is an amazing guy.

Eventually the field manager kicked us off, but not before I had Marcus take a million pictures of me in the stadium. I needed to remember this night. We even had the grouchy man take pictures of us together for keepsake.

"When you post those on Insta, I better get photo creds," he tells me.

"Are you sure you want to affiliate with me on social media?" I ask him warily before I out the fact that we've been hanging out to my small following.

"Are you kidding me, I want everyone to know I landed someone like you. Plus I may or may not have already posted a picture of us together at the Crown Fountain yesterday," he says sheepishly. I pull out my phone and see that my Instagram gained thousands of followers within the past three hours.

"But what about when you leave to go back to Manchester?" I ask the question we've both been avoiding.

"Well you said you've paid for 2 weeks to stay here, right?" He asks, and I nod yes. "I'll fly you out to Manchester after that. We can continue spending time together, and see if this is something we want to give a serious go. We can figure the logistics out later."

I'm taken aback by his forwardness and generosity. He seems to feel just as confidently as I that there could be something between us. "Are you sure?" I question.

"More sure than anything in my life," he says as he leans down to kiss me. We make it quick considering we're in the L station, but the look in Marcus's eyes says that there is more to come between us.

When we get off at the stop my hotel is on, he walks me up to my door. I invite him in, but he has a curfew at his hotel soon. We kiss goodbye, this time with less sweetness and more passion. He kisses me on the cheek, and heads to the elevator. Tomorrow is his last day here before he flies back, so we need to make it count.