My mind drifted during the game against Wake Forest. I couldn’t stop myself from searching the stands for Jasmine’s face. 

Where was she? What if she didn’t show? What if I never saw her again?

Luckily, Wake Forest wasn’t a very strong team. We were leading 3-0 with little to no help from me. I had a wide open shot with no one on me, but I foolishly went for the goal with too much power. To my horror, the ball went completely over the goal. Wake Forest’s goalkeeper shrugged but fist pumped in happiness all at the same.

Ronnie jogged over to me afterward. He wiped sweat from his face with his wrist. “Alex, you okay?”

I shook my head from missing such a ridiculously easy shot. “I’m okay. I just can’t focus.” My soccer tots could have made that shot blindfolded without shoes and a nap. A shot like that would most likely end up on a humiliating reel on YouTube titled ‘Top Open Goals Missed in History.’ 

Ronnie looked over to the stands. “She’s not here?”

After another quick scan of the crowd, I sighed. “Nah. She’s not here.”

My friend quickly patted me on the back. “I’m sorry, man.”

Regret sweltered inside me. I’d given Jasmine an ultimatum. I was being as pushy and stubborn as Jose. She wasn’t going to show, and it was my fault.

All I wanted to do was think about something else. When Ronnie sent me the ball, I guarded it with care, relieved to have the chance to vindicate my absurd missed shot minutes before. I broke free from Wake Forest player, Roger Franks, and skirted around their goalkeeper before shooting the ball at a sharp angle into the right side of the net. 

I leapt into the air with my arms raised defiantly, once again searching the stands for Jasmine’s pretty face. Distracted by my disappointment she wasn’t there, I landed stupidly at a bad angle on my ankle. Next thing I knew, my chin landed in the grass. The crowd’s cheers hushed into murmuring concern.

Clutching my ankle, I cringed, thinking about how this shot would be in another YouTube video. This one titled, ‘Soccer Player Injures Self in Victory Leap.’ The soccer medics ran onto the field and hoisted me up on the stretcher. I covered my face with my arm, not out of pain, but sheer embarrassment.

For a moment, I was actually glad Jasmine wasn’t there to see my bungled footwork. The medics carried me into the locker room where our team doctor, Dr. Patel, stood by ready to treat me. I hobbled onto the exam table.

Dr. Patel rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. He was always dressed impeccably and never had a hair out of place. Leaning down, he examined my painful ankle.

Gingerly, he pressed his fingers into my ankle joint. “This hurt?”

“Yes!” I yelped.

He wiggled my foot to the left and right. “How about this?”

“Yes!” I screamed again.

“Good news.” He stood up with a smile on his face.

I sighed, hoping it was actually good news. Dr. Patel often delivered bad news saying it was good news, because he was a doctor that tried to spin positivity in every diagnosis.

"It's just a sprain." He patted me on the knee. This was, in fact, good news, but also bad news. I’d have to rest my ankle for the next few days. 

“Thank you!” I clapped my hands together grateful, looking up to the heavens. 

“I saw you out there.” Dr. Patel retrieved an ice pack already ready for me on the side table. He placed it on my ankle. The cold instantly felt soothing.

“Which humiliating part did you catch?” I grimaced.

Dr. Patel held up his phone. “I saw them both. When you missed that wide open shot, I thought, this clip is going to go viral! But then your last move? That was golden.” 

My hands flew to my face as I groaned. “Terrible!”

“What’s going on with you? Something on your mind?” Dr. Patel cared about his players. He believed in holistic sports medicine, often treating our emotional ailments along with our physical ones. Our team was lucky to have him.

I groaned again, squeezing my eyes shut. “Yes. Is it that obvious?”

Dr. Patel grimaced kindly and held his index and thumb finger close together. “A little. I’m sure I’m the only one who noticed.”

“I sincerely doubt it.” 

“Well, what’s going on? You want to talk about it?” He crossed his arms ready to take on his patient’s next problem.

“It’s this girl I’ve been seeing.”

He shook his head. “It’s always a girl, isn’t it? What’s the problem?”

Looking around, no one else was in the locker room. I decided to spill my guts. “Her father doesn’t approve of us being together. In fact, he doesn’t even want her to go to college. He wants her to just work in the family business. She has to sneak around just to go to class. The only time she has for me is an hour a day for lunch. She works all night every day.”

Dr. Patel nodded thoughtfully, tapping his chin with his finger. “An hour, huh?”

“I know right? It’s ridiculous.” I threw my arms up.

He leaned back on the exam table, looking up at the ceiling then back down to me. “Sounds like she really cares about you.”

“What? It does?” 

“Yes. She goes to school during the day and works at night, but still has time for you during the day, even if just for an hour? She could be studying in that hour. Reading. Sleeping. Anything, but she is spending it with you.”

I sighed, thinking over what he said. Then the thought of Jose with his narrowed brows snarling at me resurfaced in my mind. “But, what about her dad? She won’t stand up to her dad!”

“That’s between her and her dad. Try to be more supportive and understand how difficult it is for her because she doesn’t just love you. She also loves her father.” Dr. Patel raised his eyebrows diplomatically. 

Rubbing my eyes and groaning loudly, I realized he was absolutely right. “Thanks, Doc.”

He took off the ice pack and brought out an Ace bandage and wrapped my ankle carefully. “You know the drill: RICE. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation.”

“Okay. Will do.” I grabbed the crutches he handed me. 

“I’ll take a look at it again tomorrow, but for now, your ankle needs rest.”

Positioning the crutches underneath my armpits, I gingerly rolled my ankle, testing it out. Yup. It still hurt. “Will I be ready for the game against Miami next week?”

“I don’t see why not. In a few days, I’ll wrap it up properly whenever you practice.”

I gave Dr. Patel a salute and hobbled out of the locker room, wanting to get to my car quickly to call Jasmine right away to apologize. In the parking lot, I saw her leaning against my car, scrolling through her phone. When she looked up, she ran to me.

“Omigod. Are you okay?” She folded me into her arms. The smell of her lavender scented hair comforted me instantly.

“I’m okay. It’s just a sprain. I landed on it awkwardly.”

She winced, holding up her phone. “I saw.” She took note of the horrified expression on my face. To make me feel better, she added, “The goal was fantastic, though. You know, the second one.”

I laughed. “Wow. The power of smartphone technology.”

Jasmine giggled. “It didn’t look so bad. It didn’t look great, but not so so bad.”

Happy she was there, I held onto her, feeling her warmth against me. “How long have you been out here waiting for me?”

“I went to the game, but you weren’t on the field. I asked some people in the stands and they said you were hurt and showed me the videos.” Jasmine squeezed me tightly. “I was so worried!”

“I’m okay. The doc said I’ll be in good shape in a few days.”

“That’s great. The Gators are going to need you in the Miami game.” She rubbed my lower back with her palm.

Jasmine cared about me. She had little interest in soccer, but she followed my game schedule and cheered me on. With everything she had going, she made space in her mental capacity to think about me and things important to me.

How could I have doubted she cared for me?

“Can you come home with me and spend the night?” I was fully prepared to understand if she said she couldn’t.

Jasmine’s cheeks blushed. “I was hoping you still wanted me to.” She looped her arm gently around my waist, leading me to the passenger side. “I’ll drive.”

In my Rover, Jasmine had to push up the driver seat really close to the steering wheel. I teased her. “I’ll get a booster seat for you next time.”

She slapped my shoulder playfully. “I’m not that short! It’s just this car is too big.”

As we drove out of the parking lot, I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but if I didn’t ask it would bug me all night. “Does your dad know you’re with me?”

Jasmine’s sunny face dropped into an apologetic expression. She stared straight ahead. “No. He doesn’t.” I watched as she braced herself for my response, actually wincing for the counterattack.

I felt awful for making her feel so on guard about everything. Leaning over and rubbing her knee, I kissed her on the nose. “That’s okay. As long, as we can be together that’s all that matters to me.”

Jasmine’s elated face returned. Squeezing my knee back, she said, “Thank you, Alex.”