"I have ammmto ask, what made you decide to build this pitch?" Emma asked.
Jayden's expression turned nostalgic.
"Growing up here, I never had access to proper facilities. We played on rough fields, with barely any equipment. I wanted to change that for the next generation."
Emma's eyes widened. "That's incredible. You're really making a difference."
Jayden shrugged. "Just paying it forward. I was lucky to have people believe in me. Now it's my turn."
Jayden's expression turned somber as he began to share his childhood stories. "I had to walk miles to get to the nearest field. Came home injured more times than I can count."
Emma's eyes filled with empathy.
"My dad... he wasn't pleased. Said I was wasting my time, getting hurt for nothing." Jayden's voice dropped.
He stood up, his eyes locked on Emma's, and lifted his shirt to reveal a scar on his stomach. "Fell on the field, cracked my rib."
Emma's gaze followed his movements, her heart aching.
He showed her more scars, each with a story: a cut on his knee from a broken bottle, a bruise on his shoulder from a rough tackle.
Then, Jayden's shirt rose higher, revealing a long, jagged scar on his arm.
"This one..." His voice trailed off.
"I got into a fight," Jayden continued, his voice low. "Kid had a sharp object... cut me deep."
"You know, I actually love this scar the most," he said with a mischievous grin.
Emma's eyes widened. "Really? Why?"
Jayden chuckled. "It makes me feel like a gangsta, like I was part of a rough mob or something."
Emma laughed. "You? A gangsta?"
Jayden nodded, his eyes sparkling. "Yeah, it's like a badge of honor. Reminds me of where I came from, what I've been through."
Emma's fingers instinctively reached out, tracing the scar. Jayden's eyes met hers, sparks flying between them.
Emma's touch sent shivers down Jayden's spine.
Their eyes locked, time standing still.
Suddenly, Emma's phone pierced the air, shattering the moment.
She silenced it, her face flushing. "I'm so late."
Jayden smiled wistfully, "I'll see you around"
Emma quickly gathered her belongings, her heart racing.
"Bye, Jayden," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
As she hurried away, Jayden watched her go, his eyes lingering on the spot where her fingers had touched his scar.
The connection between them still pulsed, like an unspoken promise.
Friday had arrived, and Emma still glowed from her heartfelt conversation with Jayden the day before. Dressed in her school's sports attire, she watched as Jayden prepared the kids for practice.
"Join us!" Jayden called out, his eyes sparkling.
Emma hesitated, but Jayden's persistence won her over.
The kids divided into two teams, with Emma and Jayden as captains. Ten minutes in, Emma's team led 2-0. She playfully taunted Jayden after the second goal, and he chuckled.
"Time for a one-on-one showdown!" Jayden announced. "Winner gets to ask the loser for anything."
Emma agreed, and the kids stepped aside to watch.
The game began with Jayden expertly dribbling the ball. Emma sprinted around, trying to intercept.
As Emma sprinted across the pitch, the warm sunlight danced across her face, and the fresh-cut grass scent filled her lungs. The sound of kids' laughter and shouting filled the air, mingling with the thud of the ball as Jayden expertly dribbled. Emma's heart pounded, and her adrenaline surged. She felt alive.
"I didn't catch your name," Jayden said, grinning trying to start a conversation as he dribbled her.
"That's because I didn't throw it," Emma retorted, smiling.
"I'm Emma," she added.
"Beautiful name," Jayden said. "But doesn't quite match your... facial looks ."
Emma's eyes flashed, and she charged at Jayden, reclaiming the ball.
Jayden was impressed by her strength and dribbling skills. Emma shot toward the goal, but a quick-thinking kid blocked her.
"You want another shot???" Jayden asked
Emma nodded, her eye blazing.
"I'm just getting started"
The game restarted with Emma in possession. This time, she meant business.
As she approached the goal, she shouted, "Look at your momma!"
She did that just to distract the kid in front of the goal post and it did actually work.
The kid glanced away, and Emma scored.
Her triumphant scream echoed across the pitch.
But the little boy's response stunned her.
He ran to her, almost as if he was pursing her
"My mom's dead, you witch!" He said the moment he got to get and started hitting her
Jayden intervened, as he pulled the child away from Emma. He held the boy guiding him to the bench.
"Sorry about that," Jayden said to Emma.
Emma's expression softened. "No, I apologize. I didn't mean to trigger anything."