Living on Perfectly Remembered Memories

The day was May 1st. When you think of May, nothing important ever seems to happen this month. It remains true to me, but for Rafael, this could be the turning point of his high school life.

It was particularly hot outside; there weren't any clouds in the sky, and not a single hint of a breeze. The sun was blazing, almost burning my skin in less than five minutes time.

I readjusted the cap I borrowed from Matt and applied more sun block to my shoulder blades. I didn't want to burn and start peeling. That's really disgusting.

My tank top stuck to my skin as another wave of sweat coated me. I love California, this is the only place I've known my entire life, but Antarctica sounds like home sweet home right now. I hate sweating when I can't do anything about it.

A loud grunt echoed throughout the arena as the chair umpire leaned forward into his microphone and announced, "40-Love. Match point."

I gasped and smacked Matt's arm. He groaned and rubbed the red mark I left.

"He's going to win!" I whispered urgently, sitting up straighter. The seat underneath me whined as I shifted my weight around.

I leaned forward in anticipation at the seriousness on Rafael's face. He wiped his forehead and the side of his nose with his baby blue Nike wristband, bounced the tennis ball twice, and threw it up into the air. The split second his racket made contact with the ball, it already hit the other side of the court and waved past the other player.

"Match: Nadal."

Everyone jumped up from their seats and cheered for my boyfriend. I couldn't have been prouder of him!

"Real men don't play a gay sport like that," Matt mumbled, tilting his cap.

I looked back at him. Did he just say that? After he agreed to come watch this match with me, he has to be a hater? "Fuck you," I snarled and walked away.

Matt is not going to ruin my mood; he is not going to ruin my mood. I can't believe he said that! It's so rude! I want to see him try to play tennis! Please, he'd fail in two seconds!

He plays football where he has to tackle people down and has to strip naked in front of boys. Yeah, he isn't gay either. Freaking asshole.

Rafael's probably looking for me. I walked down to the courts, where he gave the other player a firm handshake and smile. He grabbed his bags and racket and walked towards me. When he did, he dropped his things by his feet and pulled me into a hug.

I squealed and slapped his back. "Ew you're all sweaty!"

He laughed and re-grabbed his things. "You are sweaty too."

"Well...shut up!" I retorted.

"Mm-hm."

We walked into the locker room where the other guys on the tennis team were and his coach.

"Wonderful job Rafael!" his coach congratulated and punched his arm.

"Thank you," he replied, smiling.

I felt a little out of place, but I always felt that way when it came to athletes. I didn't mind.

"DO IT NOW!"

"Oh my god is this Gatorade on me?!" I screeched, looking in the mirror at the two boys who had a container of the drink in their arms.

"It's tradition!" they chorused before dropping the container and running out of the room. They're going to die, watch, they will.