What I like about you

2

His hand drops mine, leaving my skin tingling from his touch. His eyes never waver from mine as we sit there in the moment.

I just met this guy and he's already making me feel some type of way.

The silence in the car makes it unnerving as I shiver under his intense look.

"So..." I start. "You play football?"

"Yeah." He tears his eyes away from me and starts to eat his food.

That was weird.

"What position?" I ask even though I already know. Just trying to have a simple conversation.

"Running back." He simply answers.
"Have you seen us play?"

I don't know how to answer that. Of course I've seen them play, it's just that I never want to. They aren't what you would consider a 'good team'.

"Yeah, a few times." I admit, I try to smile but it turns into a grimace.

"We suck, don't we?" He kind of laughs forcefully, knowing that what he says is merely true.

"I wouldn't say you suck." I try to smile but fail, ending up looking guilty.

"Then what would you say?" He fully turns to me.

"That y'all don't know how to play?" I force a smile again.
I bet I look like I need to fart.

"So, we suck." He sighs.

"You don't suck...your team does." I try to make it better but fail at that too.

He looks over at me and then smiles.

"You sure do know what to say." He laughs.
"It's not like I want to play anyways."

"So, why do you?" I ask, curious.

Why would he play a sport and lose when he doesn't even want to play?

"My dad." His answer is short and simple but I still nod my head in understanding.
"He loves football, so he thought I would love football."

"So, he makes you play because he likes it?"

"Not exactly. I've always played since I was old enough to, so he always thought that I liked it."

"But, you didn't." I look at him.

"No, I realized that I never did. I want to play Baseball."

"Why don't you just tell him?" I ask.

"He wouldn't understand. He would say that Baseball isn't a real sport and that I wasted my time."

I get what he's saying. I really do. And I noticed that this simple conversation got deep quicker than we both expected.

"What do you play?" He changes the subject to me.

"I play soccer." Is all I say, looking at him until he meets my eyes.

"Soccer?" He looks surprised.

"Yeah, is that surprising?" I laugh.

"I mean, yeah."

"How?"

"You're so small and sweet, I couldn't see you in such a contact sport." He laughs, wide eyed.

"I'm not that sweet, and I'm tougher than I look." I protest, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Oh, okay, sure."

"You don't believe me?"

"No, not really."

"Okay. So last year, at one of our games, this girl was pushing up against me when I had the ball and I pushed her so hard that she fell on her face." I laugh uncontrollably.
"Turf burns all down the side of her cheeks."