The man picks up a pack of meat, looking it over before setting it back down. I find myself staring even though I know it’s rude. I should look away, but it’s almost like I can’t.
He’s tall, probably around six-foot if I had to guess. Shorter than my six-foot-seven, but most people are shorter than me. His hair is long enough to be styled up while the sides are cropped short. His ears have black studs in them. The man is lanky, his limbs all looking just slightly too long for him yet he moves with grace. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that fit him just right and a purple hoodie with a logo on the front. I’m not sure what the logo means but I’m fairly certain I’ve seen it before somewhere.
He turns towards me, noticing that I’m looking at him. I quickly turn back to my shopping, feeling my cheeks warm at being caught.
Hopefully he doesn’t think I’m some sort of creep watching him like that.
The man is attractive, there’s no denying that. That doesn’t mean he wants people staring at him.
I continue to shop, picking up everything I’ll need. All the while, I keep seeing the gorgeous blue-haired man. Everywhere I look, he’s somehow there and every single time, I can’t look away. There’s something about him that’s drawing me in, like a string attached at the center of my chest.
I never approach people. My teammates all tease me when we go out to places. They tell me I ‘have no game’, whatever that means. My problem is, I don’t know how to talk to people. Isn’t it uncomfortable to have someone come up to you and ask for your number? I know it’s always uncomfortable for me.
Even so, I can’t help but wonder if I should maybe approach this man. I could tell him about my dream? No, that’s too weird. I could compliment his hair or ask about the logo on his hoodie? That feels more ‘normal’.
We both make our way over to the checkout line. Just before getting into line, he turns around and walks over to me.
My entire body locks up, my eyes widening as he gives me an easy smile.
“Hi,” he says as he stands before me. “I know that look. You want a picture, right?”
I blink slowly, trying to process this man’s words. A picture? What? I don’t understand.
He watches my face before shaking his head, looking annoyed all of a sudden. “Come on. Hand me your phone. I have somewhere I need to be so let’s not take too long, okay?”
“Umm,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket and handing it over, in a daze. Why does he want my picture? Does he know I’m a professional athlete? No, that doesn’t make sense. He said that I would want a photo with him.
He takes my phone and pulls up the camera. Then he turns so that he’s taking a selfie with me. He throws up a peace sign, not unlike how Oli often takes photos with fans before handing me my phone back.
“Always happy to meet a fan,” he says, slapping my shoulder before turning away and pushing his cart into the check out lane. I rub at the spot he just smacked, wondering what in the hell just happened.
Am I still dreaming or did I just meet the most beautiful asshole ever? This is one of those times I know I’ll have to sit down with my teammates and ask them about. They’re usually my compass when it comes to human interactions and this one was weird, even for my standards.
I watch the guy go before finally moving, going to the checkout line myself, wondering if today could get any stranger.
By the time I get to practice, my head is starting to hurt. I keep replaying the interaction I had earlier, still coming up with no explanation for what actually happened.
“Maki, Maki, Maki,” Oli says in greeting, his voice taking on a singing-like tone as I walk into the locker room to get changed.Most everyone is already here, in different levels of getting changed. “What’s got that frown on your face?”
“Hey,” Ivan jumps in, crossing his arms over his chest, showing off his toned arms. “What’s up with your comment this morning? People won’t stop asking what happened last night.”
I rub the back of my head. “I just assumed you spent time together. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“We know that,” Oli says, shoving his elbow into Ivan’s stomach. “He’s just mad that people are shipping us again.”
I blink at them. “Shipping you where?”
Oli snorts. “No, it’s an online term. It means people think we’re secretly dating.”
“Right,” I say slowly, nodding my head. When I first met Oli and Ivan, I assumed they were dating. The two of them might fight and bicker near constantly, but they’re also very soft with each other, especially when it matters.
When Oli took a fall during a game and hurt his elbow, Ivan refused to play the rest of the game in order to stay by Oli’s side. They have a very special bond, even if they want to pretend they don’t. They’ve known each other since they were in elementary school, having lived next door to each other all their lives.
I might not be very good at reading social cues but even I can see that they belong together. I think eventually, they’ll figure that out.
I go to my locker and start changing into my practice gear. Daniel, our captain, walks past, patting my shoulder as he goes.
“Back to the initial question,” Daniel says with a grin. “Everything okay, Maki?”
