Football Dreams

“Green 686, green686, set, hut-hut.”

The quarterback reaches the line of scrimmage, squats and places his hands under the center.

At this point, everyone’s eyes are on the quarterback and what his next move is going to be.

Is he going for a 25-yard throw?

A quick handoff to the full-back or is he going for a run?

He finally lines up to take a snap-and throws a tight spiral straight to the receiver.

“Touchdown!”

I was six years old when I knew what I wanted to become when I was older and throughout my life, I craved for a shot at becoming a professional athlete—most specifically to become an NFL quarterback.

I spend days and nights watching replays over and over, keeping a close eye on the quarterbacks and learning their stances. Counted the steps they took, learned the language of plays and how to find the wide receiver with all that was happening in front of you, but mostly how to avoid getting tackled.

Growing up we didn’t have female American football teams in schools or clubs, even though the sports federation made a rule where females were to be given a fair chance to try out for a men's team when there was no women’s team to join, but as someone who got picked on her whole life, it wasn’t easy to take a big risk like that. Even when I knew I could do it.

I was fourteen years old when I set out to find a job and the diner was the only place willing to give me a chance.

For the last six years, I’ve been working day in and day out at the diner while getting harassed and bullied over time. Being branded as a “diner girl.” and mocked with every passing day, people wanting free food and leaving without tipping me after they unnecessarily placed incorrect orders.

“Waiter!” An annoying and demanding voice called out.

I grabbed my tray and rushed through the buzzing diner to get to their table.

I tried not to express too much when I noticed the familiar face of the one guy who comes here often with a different girl every time.

I welcomed them and apologized for having them wait to be served.

“What can I get you?” I asked, noticing the girl flicking her hair over her shoulder and giving me a narrowed look.

“Can I have a cheeseburger and a coke?” The guy asked nicely, his voice laced with an undertone of flirtation.

I faked a smile when I glanced over at the girl to take her order.

“Just a salad. Dressing on the side and an ice tea,” She ordered, handing the menu back.

I nodded writing down their order and headed back behind the counter to place their order in the kitchen.

“Is that girl giving you a hard time?” Brenda asked suddenly appearing next to me.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

I carried on serving my other tables. I said my goodbyes to the tables that were done and then collected the food order for my last table.

“A cheeseburger and salad with dressing on the side,” I repeated, placing their lunch in front of them. “Anything else?” I faked a smile.

“No, we’re good thanks.”

I left them to have their lunch and headed to the back to change out of my diner uniform and do a handover of all my tables to Claudia

“One of your tables, the guy asked me to give you this,” Claudia handed me a few bills when I dashed for the exit.

I smiled and slipped the bills into my pocket. “He cheats on his girlfriend and brings his mistresses here. He thinks tipping me graciously will keep my mouth shut,”

She smiled at me. “You are way too good-natured,”

I shook my head. “Nah, if he is on a date with one of his mistresses and his girlfriend barges in here, I am getting out the popcorn,”

I didn’t have to wait long for the bus.

I was exhausted from lunch’s rush and skipping out on breakfast wasn’t a good idea. I was starving and in need of some caffeine. I decided to make a quick stop at the cafeteria to grab myself a coffee and a muffin.

“One strong black coffee,” The lunch lady called, pushing a flimsy and steaming styrofoam cup over to me.

Their coffee wasn’t as fancy or good-tasting as the coffee shop a few blocks over or in town, or even compared to the diner, but it was good enough to keep me awake.

My mind subconsciously believed that the mud-caffeine pushed enough brew through my system to keep me on my feet and off my arms.

I was focusing on putting my leftover change away in my wallet and before my mind could grasp what was happening, a shoulder collided with mine knocking my drink right out of my hand spilling hot liquid all over me

"Would you watch it?" Their loud, masculine voice exclaimed with frustration.

I was ready to give the person a piece of my mind but when I looked up my body went into shock. I took a moment to freak out when our gazes met.

I didn’t know if I should be upset over my spilled coffee, or the person I bumped into.

My day turned from bad to worse.

His rare, mysterious dark-brown eyes stared into my baby blue eyes.

The all-state captain of the football team was standing in front of me, coffee splattered all over his white shirt and finished off with a stained scowl on his face.

He was good-looking up close with his tall, wide, and toned shoulders. Short black hair, the sides shorter than the top, and a face that made you want to cry a little it was so perfect.

His sheer dominance radiated from his broad shoulders while his eyes captivated your soul and stole your strength making it his own.

“An apology would be nice,” He clipped, his scowl deepening.

Excuse me, what? "You couldn't see me? Or watch where you were going, pal?"

My temper got the best of me. I didn't care if Dunan was on the cover of the college's sports illustrator due to having a successful string of seasons or how rich his father was. It gave him no right to treat me like he was above me.

"I believe it's you who owes me an apology and a new coffee," I emphasized the massive coffee stain left on me.

"You got some nerve to think it's my fault,"

"You couldn't see me?" I asked, stating the obvious that he could have seen me when he entered the cafeteria.

"I had other things on my mind,"

I clenched my hand into a fist to stop myself from slapping him. "You know what?" The audacity of this man.

"Screw you," I threw him with the now soggy muffin.

I tried not to think about his surprised face when the muffin hit his chest when I walked away. I also tried not to think about my stained shirt or what I'd just done.

I threw away the empty Styrofoam cup and rushed out of the cafeteria with a scowl plastered across my face as I headed to the girl’s room to try and do something to my coffee-stained shirt.

I was relieved when I entered the restroom and found it empty.

I immediately rushed over to the sink, gathered hand towels, and tried to get out as much of the stains as I could, but the coffee had already seeped through the material and was there to stay until I could get home, to properly wash it out.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and decided there was nothing more I could do.

“What a way to start my day,” I whispered to myself and left to get to class.