A story about a singer/dancer who leaves her old town to discover who she really is.
Will angelica find love? Will she find herself?
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Angelica Mendoza is a strong innocent girl from Dallas Texas
she has been threw hard times in her life.
S...
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We were so relaxed in his car, there was like no tension at all. It felt as if we knew each other all our lives.
We had music on low and we where talking about all kinds of things.
As we're getting closer I notice the big stadium in front of me and I grin.
"You brought me to dodger stadium! Are you playing today?"
"No I'm not. We have the whole stadium to our selves." I look at him questionably, "I have to um.. get a few things from the office, and I thought I'd show you around." He said and rubbed the back of his neck.
"How cool! I'm excited!" I'm practically jumping in my seat. I seriously love baseball. I've never been to a game, and I've always wanted to go.
He goes around the whole stadium and goes threw un under ground tunnel.
I'm guessing this is where the players and staff work.
Theres a large parking area. We park nearest to a door and we step out.
I look at him for guidance and he tilts his head towards the door and we walk towards it. He unlocks the door with a key and we step threw.
Its a really long hall way with a few doors as we pass by. Each door had someone names on it. So I'm guessing they're offices.
As we reach the end we turn left and we're in a locker room.
The lockers where blue and the benches in front of them where the same color.
The floor was a white laminate tile in large squares.
"So this is where all the pre game rituals happen, hu?" I ask as we walk around all the lockers that where labeled with each and every players name.
He chuckles, "You have no idea. Some of the guys do some crazy stuff."
He leads me to the locker where it's labeled with his name.
He smiles at me and opens the locker. I see a few pairs of cleats a few hanged shirts and his jerseys hanged.
He pulls off a jersey and hands it to me, "Here put this on."
"You want me to wear your jersey?" I smirk.
"Yeah, why not" he shrugs.
I examined the jerseys front and back. His last name in bold letters HAMILTON Is stitched in at the back with the number 3 under it.
"I'm letting you know right now, if I put this on your never getting it back." I say and raise my eyebrow as if daring him to disagree.
"Its yours."
I slip it on over my cloths. And look at my self in his locker mirror. The jersey is way to big, it reaches a few fingers over my knee. But it looks good.
