On twitter, she’s PandaDementia and she’s got a little place in blogland called It’s Panda, Miss Dementia if You’re Nasty. She was the second prize winner in my Butchtastic First Birthday Contest and here’s her contest entry, a fantasy accounting of when we first meet.
I landed flat on my back. Hard. As I tried to catch the breath that was forced out of me on impact, I surveyed the other damage done by the encounter with that brick wall. My ankle hurt, I had a gash in my knee thanks to that rock sticking out of the ground… mostly, though, I was embarrassed that I had tried to charge the goalie and not only had he deflected the ball successfully away from the goal, he hadn’t budged at all upon our impact while I went sprawling onto the ground.
Just as I was about to attempt getting up, I saw his intense eyes appear above me. “Oh, he’s going to help me up. It’s the least he could do,” I thought to myself.
As I began to raise my hand for his help, a sneer appeared on his face. “Better luck next time, MEAT.” He turned and walked back to his teammates.
“What an ass,” I grumbled to myself as a teammate helped me limp off the field. The ankle wasn’t bad, I could have kept playing, but the coach kept me out anyways. I was not at all happy to be sitting out the rest of the game, watching this cocky, albeit handsome, goalie block shot after shot. I was especially not happy that he got the satisfaction of winning the game.
I was in such a bad mood by the end of the game that I refused the invitations of my teammates to join them for dinner and instead stayed on the field, running drills to burn off some steam while everyone headed off to begin their evenings of fun. After about an hour, I heard a rumbling in my tummy and decided it was time to pack it up and head home.
As I approached my car in the parking lot, I saw HIM – that same cocky ass that had caused me so much embarrassment in the game. He was leaning on my car and a smile appeared on his face as I approached.
“I was wondering how long you’d be torturing yourself with those drills,” he laughed.
“What do you want?” I growled.
His beautiful blue-green eyes ran up and down my body quickly, which sent a jolt up my spine. I tried to hide the quiver but judging by the smirk on his face, it was obvious.
“I want to take you out for a drink. To celebrate.”
I rolled my eyes. “What do I have to celebrate about? My team lost the game.”
“Believe me, doll, when I’m done with you, you’ll have an extensive list of reasons to celebrate.”
He winked. He licked his lips. I was his.
I really enjoyed this and it was even more fun when she confessed she wasn’t a soccer player.. she did a pretty good job regardless. Thanks for playing, Panda.
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