Flashback - Spring 2015

Flashback

Isaiah - Spring 2015

I t was downpouring. The rain hadn't let up for hours, plastering all of us, including the girls on the field. My eyes fall back to Aurora at the center of the defense, the curls loose from her ponytail plastered to her cheeks, only held back by a thin band of pre-wrap. But she loves the rain, loves playing in the rain.

I swear she just likes the mud.

On the scoreboard, it remains zero-zero with less than twenty minutes left to the whistle. Until overtime. Aurora and her defense have been unstoppable but so have their opponents. The offense continuously stopped on each side of the field. Behind me, the stands are filled to the brim under the pouring rain. I was too nervous to sit, so I've been watching from the fence.

This would be Aurora's only championship at this school. Her first two years were a rebuild. They made the playoffs but never got all the way. Last year, they lost in a nailbiter—scored in the last five minutes of the game, something Aurora blamed herself for. So, I know how much she wants this. I can see the fire in her eyes on a game day, the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

She's already got a scholarship for college in the fall. The championship isn't a need for anything other than herself. Aurora needs it.

All of a sudden, the other team makes a break. A forward heading straight down, straight toward Aurora. Even from a distance, I see the smile that wants to break free. This is her domain, her joy, her life. Her feet are lightning quick as she moves into position. The rain batters the players, but they barely look phased. Aurora backpedals with the forward for a moment, containing her and forcing her one way. I see the moment as she does. With a sure, quick foot, Aurora steals the ball right from under her and quickly finds her open midfielders.

As she goes to pass it, the forward tackles her—a low blow considering she's coming from behind, but it's useless. Aurora already got the ball off her foot. When she stands, she's covered in mud and has a huge smile on her face.

See? I knew she just liked the mud.

Unfortunately, her pass doesn't end in a goal, but the team keeps fighting. Though I should be focusing on the game, I can't help but let my eyes remain on Aurora with more focus. Somehow, there's a streak of mud still on her cheek. Her uniform clings to her skin in the rain. With every stride, the muscles in her legs are prominent. Even now, a senior in high school, she is phenomenal. And she's only going to get better.

Exhaling, I turn to watch them lead another attack, but all I can think about is kissing her after this.

The crowd behind me starts cheering in harmony as the girls push up into their opponents' half. And I just feel it. This is it. There's less than five minutes left, but they move the ball around the field smoothly, confidently. A beaten defender. Another. A beautiful crossing pass and our top forward is right there to put a foot on it.

And it goes easily into the corner of the net.

The crowd explodes, and the girls find each other in the center of the field for a quick celebration. Now, they just have to hold it. Aurora claps, backpedaling to fall into position as they reset. The clock ticks down, and my heart is at a constant state of anxiety.

Finally, the clock stops—a steady two-minute warning on the display. And the opponents make one last effort. Already in Aurora's half, they push, connecting three solid passes. Aurora surges back, taking the space of one of her defenders. Her eyes are narrowed and focused as the girl approaches her.

She has to tackle her. It's a dangerous play, given the opposition's position. But it's that or risk a shot.

Aurora goes for it. For a second, as they fall, it's chaos. No idea if she went and got the ball, or if she'll be called for a dirty tackle. But the play goes on. Aurora clears the ball up field, and no whistle sounds.

And that's it. Everyone knows it.

A slow smile spreads over her beautiful, rain-soaked face.

The whistle blows three times, and the crowd goes wild.

I watch her with a grin as she celebrates with her team. I love seeing her like this. Jumping up and down with adrenaline, a big smile on her face after a game, especially one where she played incredibly well. She's a force to be reckoned with. From the chaos of her team huddle, she finds me in the distance, wearing her jersey. And I didn't think it was possible, but her smile spreads wider. My pulse steadies. The world clears, as it always does when I look at her.

Watching her, seeing her come alive as they lift the trophy, I realize how head over heels in love with her I am. I've loved her as long as I've known her. As fully as we can in our adolescence, but this is different.

It feels different.

Though I'm pretty sure I've been in love with her for a while now, it's just decided to sink in.

Like an epiphany.

It felt like there was this vague picture in the back of my mind, but it wouldn't come into focus. Similar to when I'm writing. Sometimes, I know what I want to write, but I can't see it. And I can't force it. It has to come to me. And this feels like that. When the blur clears and suddenly the pen is flying across the paper.

It's crystal clear.

Eventually, after pictures and celebrations, she makes her way to me. She greeted her parents, Sophia, Kian, and Azalea first, and they were trailing after her, but they've fallen back. Probably Sophia's doing. She knows things, even when Aurora doesn't tell her.

Aurora's smile is bright in the dim rain. "Hi."

Without hesitating, I pull her in for a hug. "You played fucking great out there."

"Isaiah," she whines, "I'm sweaty and drenched."

"I don't care," I say, into her wet, tangled mess of curls. And I don't. Not in the slightest. All I care about is the way my nervous system calms down. Pulling back, my hands cup her cheeks. "You won."

She's beaming. "We won." Aurora is the one that pulls me back in for a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around my abdomen. We sway side to side in the pouring rain.

Over her shoulder, I find Sophia and Kian watching, amused as Zaza swings between their arms. After a shared look, Sophia dips her head and pulls her parents a bit further away. I smile. We're together, and we're not hiding it. But neither of us have wanted to hear the opinions of our parents, so they don't know yet. At least, not explicitly.

As soon as they're distracted, I pull back just enough to press our lips together. Under my palms, she softens. It's soft, unhurried, and gentle. She tastes like rain water and Aurora. As simple as that. Aurora very gently pulls my lip back as she moves away, then leans back in for a quick kiss.

"I got voted MVP for the game," she says breathlessly, wiping water from under her eyes.

"Of course, you did."

Reaching up behind me, I unclasp the chain around my neck. It's got a simple gold pendant on it with my initials engraved. I snake my arms around Aurora's neck and re-clasp it. She reaches her fingers up and tugs it.

"What's this for?"

I don't know, really. But I look at the pendant against her brown skin, and it looks like it was always supposed to be there. Maybe it's the idea of college a few months away. We're not going to the same school, though they'll be close. Maybe it's a way to be with her the whole time. Maybe I just needed to see something of mine close to her skin. There is no logical answer. It just…is.

"I don't know. I just want you to have it."

Aurora smiles. "I love this necklace. Did you know I asked my parents for one similar? They never got it. I wasn't mad, but I've always loved this."

It's funny how often we're on the same wavelength without even realizing it. Sometimes, I swear we have the same thoughts, share the same brain. The only person I know better than Aurora is Elijah, but even that, it's different. He's my brother.

She is…Aurora.

The girl I'm in love with. The girl who's been my best friend since that day on the playground. I didn't know that emotions could run this deep at seventeen, but apparently, they do. I feel them below the surface of my skin, a low hum of energy that is constant. They belong to her, like much of me does. I mean, God, how the fuck does anyone get anything done? It feels like everything revolves around her.

I brush her cheek, finding her hand and twining our fingers. "It's yours."

Her hazel eyes meet mine, looking into the deepest parts of me. And in her own, I can see all the emotions she has. Not about me but about the game. About all she's worked for. About the sport she's played her whole life. This was it. Her last game with this high school team.

"Uh-oh."

"Don't uh-oh me," she says, her lips trembling.

My lips twitch. "If you cry, no one would know. It's raining."

Aurora swallows, and I know it's all going to overflow here in a quick second. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I pull her into my chest just as a quiet sob breaks free. "I've got you," I whisper into her ear, my fingers wrapped around the end of her curly ponytail.

"This is so dumb." Her words are muffled by her tears and my chest. I hold her as it passes. I know later, she'll cry again when no one's around. But for now, a quick moment is all she needs. We stay like that until her shoulders stop shaking.

When she pulls back, you can't even tell unless you were to look closely. Only I notice the slight puffiness under her eyes. No one else will. I squeeze her hand and nod to her family. "We should go."

"Yeah." Aurora turns those puppy dog eyes up to me, playing with the pendant now around her neck. I raise a brow. "Will you carry me?"

I laugh. "Of course." I bend down so she doesn't have to jump so high and hold her confidently on my back, my hands cupped around her legs. Her arms fall over my shoulders, loosely held together. Aurora rests her head on my shoulder, her lips inches away from my neck.

Those three words pound in my head over and over again, begging to get out. Today is for her though. I can tell her I love her tomorrow. Or the next day. It doesn't matter.

I'm going to love her every day and every tomorrow there is. And beyond that, too.

Aurora is forever.