Narrative Essay About Winning

IT WAS GAME POINT. For the entirety of the game, Sebastian had been maneuvering around the opponents, running towards their side of the goal, and trying to score; while I have been sitting on one of the many benches with my eyes tightly shut and fingers crossed just hoping that he'd miss this one shot. A huge part of me is hoping that Sebastian would miss the chance to score the winning point and have the team lose their first game of the season, even if I did come all the way to support them.

I peak an eye open as soon as the horn rings through the stadium. It's bright and clear in orange numbers, and yet, it is even clearer when the people stand up and erupt into laughter and cheer that Sebastian had made the winning goal.

"Damn it," I

"I know," she rolls her eyes, "don't be a party-pooper."

I frown at her knowing very well why I hadn't wanted them to win the game.

Everyone has fallen in love or lucidly with the simple concept of it and why people fall in love. However, the fact is, we never really know how to explain it -- it's an intricate thing; love. So, understandably, we give ourselves the consummation that reading it will eventually clarify it. We like to believe that reading about how it feels like to be held by a boy we're madly in love with or how it feels to get kissed by the boy we are head over heels for will help us understand the concept of falling for someone ever so slowly. We try to comprehend what love really is and how it starts. We try to fit the tiny pieces of the puzzle to create that artful masterpiece.

That artful masterpiece lives right above me and goes by the name Sebastian Parish, and I hadn't wanted him to win the game because it meant that he'd go to the very same party my mom banned me from going to.

"They're going to the party." I begin to say, "May I remind you that we aren't."

"Percy -- "

"-- They pooped-down my party first." I

While, on the other hand, men attended the game with beers in their hand accompanied by their small round bellies.

"Congratulations," she kissed his cheek, "you were great."

Taking this moment from a far to carefully indulge in Sebastian, I notice that he's the miniature version of his father. The two shared the same eye color -- an emerald green that shone in the sunlight, and at times, turned much darker and almost a shade of hazel brown. They shared the same crooked smile, which came with the very same crinkles around the eyes. However, in contrast to one another, their hair wasn't quite the same. While his father started to go bald, Sebastian had a mane of dirty blonde hair.

He raises an eyebrow as he notices me gawking and gently pulls at my heartstrings. He then pauses and looks at me in a way that makes my insides erupt in delight and leans against the circuit's railing.

"Came to give me my birthday kiss, Perce?" he mumbles with an ever-graceful smile painting his