Married To The Game: Falling For An Olympic Star

"Violet! You've so many autographs! You're so lucky!" Voilet's friend, Clarissa, replied. Violet laughed and rolled her eyes.
"No I'm not!" She squealed, Clarissa and her own English accents sounding brighter against the accents of every other race. All these people, right here in London.....for the 2012 Summer Olympics. It's amazing.
"OhMyGod, is that Tom Daley?!" Clarissa exclaimed, as both the girls spun their heads back.
"No, it's just a-UH!" Violet groaned as her shoulder suddenly began to throb.
"Oh." The man she had bumped into grunted. Turning around, the eyes bulged our of both Violet and Clarissa's eyes.
"Oh..MyGod." Violet started.
"Hah, sorry about that." Said Michael Phelps, Olympic Superstar.
"No, no! Absolutely my fault, shouldn't have been looking backwards..." Holding out an excited hand, she continued, "I'm Violet." Shaking her hand, he replied,
"Michael." Both girls giggled.
"Like we don't already know that!" Exclaimed Clarissa. Flipping her hair as she would(which truly irritated Violet since she had had a celebrity crush on Michael ever since she saw him on her television 12 years ago)
"Clarissa Wildflower." Clarissa stated, giving out her hand. With a small shake, Michael situated his eyes back to Violet. After a few short moments, she helplessly held out her Summer Olympics 2012 note pad.
"Could you, erm, sign this, please?" She asked sheepishly. Michael swallowed and nodded, taking the pen and note pad. Looking down, his facial expression quickly turned to one of shock as he looked back up at her.
"Got a lot of signatures...Tom Daley, Ryan Lochte, Jordyn Weiber, Ashleigh Brennan..." Michael counted, trailing off. Giggling, an always bubbly Violet replied,
"I guess I'm just a lucky girl, haha!" He chuckled and signed it quickly, handing it back to her. Not wanting to end the conversation on a quick note, Violet blurted out,
"I've always been quite a fan of yours." An amused Clarissa laughed coldly under her breath. Sometimes Violet wondered why she was even friends with her. Instead of doing something awkward, He grinned.
"Thanks."
"Even though you always did beat my country's team...sort of bittersweet, really." Michael laughed. It seemed out of the corner of her eye, Violet could see Clarissa tense up. It rained true; right after Clarissa spoke up.
"Yeah! She's always had a little celebrity crush on you. Ever since Sydney! Would root for you over her own country, this one! 'Oh, look! Michael won gold!' 'So adorable...isn't he adorable?' 'Hmm, the cutest athlete would probably be Michael-hands down-!" Violet nudged Clarissa quite hard in the side, blushing like a tomato. Looking down, she bit her lip feeling like she was about to cry. Clarissa, on the other hand, was laughing her head off like she was watching England's Funniest Home Videos. Violet heard Michael laugh awkwardly. Bringing the hands to her face pointed at the ground, she wiped them across her skin, the straight brown hair flying out of her face. Time to redeem the confidence I still have left, Violet thought.
"Oh gosh, hahahaha! Thanks for that, bud-ee!" Violet said that last part sarcastically, "Totally not embarrassed right now...," Laughing, Michael looked up smiling.
"Hey, don't sweat it." He replied, holding out his hand. Feeling chills up her spine when he wrapped his fingers around her hand, she shook it and replied,
"It was nice meeting you! You're really amazing." Violet said, smiling sincerely.
"Thanks, you too. And really, it was my fault," Violet giggled, "We should talk some time." Not believing what she was hearing, Violet looked to Clarissa who was stiff with her hands on her curved hips.
"Erm, yeah totally! I'll give you my number!" Violet said laughing, releasing his hand, "Um..." She trailed off, ripping a piece of paper from her notebook.
020-880-0147 She scribbled, handing it to him. Picking it up, Violet waved and walked away.

Walking away, she couldn't help but smile the whole time.
"You just have him your number?!" Clarissa said irritated, which entertained Violet.
"Shut up." She cooed happily, and meant it too. Suddenly, a gust of wind smacked her bare skin as she felt the back of her dress fly up.
"Op!" She squealed, hopping forward and fixing it. Looking around, she laughed and a few people saw, laughing too. Seeing Michael Phelps' back less then 10 feet(in US standard) ahead of her, she sighed in relief, because he hadn't seen.

Michael looked back, watching at the straight, brunette hair bounced on her head. Out of no where, the back of Violet's lavender maxi dress fly up, revealing her small, coral, lace panties. After she fixed her clothes, Michael wiped his head around right when Violet began to turn hers. Laughing, he hoping she wouldn't think, or notice(for that manner) he saw her frilled delicates.


A/N: do you guys like? Should I continue?!