I’ve never screamed so loud in my life as when I saw Max’s serious, focused face light up, the pressure lifting off him as he pumped his fist in the air and celebrated the goal. It was hisfirst goal during the World Cup and the last one for a while, but watching his new teammates congratulate him and seeing Coach Hitchings’ proud face light up, I knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and it was all worth it.
All the late-night phone calls, the early morning practices, the endless text messages we exchanged, and the fact that I hadn’t seen him properly since May had put a strain on our relationship.
Around me, everyone screamed and celebrated. The way the stadium roared with noise felt like the US had just made it into the finals when, in reality, they lost. But they went out with a bang.
My eyes remained glued to Max, and within seconds, he turned to look at me too, a wide grin on his face as he blinked up against the bright sunlight.
“I love you,” he mouthed without shame, not caring that people would make a meme of him for saying that.
But through all the practices, media tours, and games, I knew that I always came first to him. He made time to call me, text me, and send me flowers. And what was most important, he showed up for me when it mattered.
Soccer was his career and his first love, but I was his future.
The End
