...Alright, it's another summer, and of course, that means another fanfiction from me. Yup... it must be my summer thing or something?

Anyway, I have to... apologize. This story came to me last year when I was working on The Mode. So, it shares a slight similarity with The Mode: Like in The Mode, this story also is a summer story of Yuna + an internship. I can't help it, guys. I'm trying to get an internship myself, so it's kind of on my mind, I guess... so sorry. But I promise, that is one of the ONLY things this story shares with The Mode. Well, that and the fact that it's also in first person point-of-view, from Yuna's POV. Otherwise, I promise it's totally different!

Also, I must apologize for the fact that I'm using this as an experimentation. Which means, I must ask you guys a favor. :) I'm trying something new with this story that I've never tried before. I'll make a list of what I'm trying to do:

1.) I'm writing this story in present-tense. You know, as if it's happening right now. Which is hard because it's more natural to write a story in past-tense, and also because sometimes, the story does go back to past-tense when the past is visited. So it's hard to write because it gets confusing.

2.) I am also experimenting with letting the reader into Yuna's mind. So there are side-notes given to the reader by Yuna. This also might be confusing.

3.) I'm trying to give you guys the MINIMUM details in this chapter. I'm hinting at a few things that will be discussed later in the story, but I don't want to just flat-out say it. Again, this might get confusing...

So, in conclusion, PLEASE let me know if anything confuses you. I'm usually not a fan of "constructive criticism" because I am one of those people who can't handle it (it's true... I'm sorry...), but in this situation, I'm begging for it. After all, I'm not going to lie, I use fanfiction as a way to judge how people like my writing. So, again, feel free to help out all you want. :)

In conclusion, I present to you all a new story from me that I hope you like. :) I didn't want to write it, but I couldn't stop thinking about it, so here it is. Enjoy!!

Chapter 1: Obsess

I don't know if I believe in love at first sight. But I'm not sure how else to explain it. I mean, how else do you explain this? How do you explain me, standing in front of a huge stadium in Zanarkand of all places, suitcase in hand, laptop-in-bag slung over my shoulder, and probably way too much makeup piled onto my face? It had to have been love at first sight.

Is it love at first sight though if it took me a good month or two to figure out that I was in love with him? Is it love at first sight if it's unrequited? If he simply smiled at me and left my life for what I thought was forever, uncaring that I was madly in love with him? I purse my lips and continue to stare at the arena. It was love at first sight.

How else could I explain my sudden infatuation with a guy I only spoke to twice? How else could I explain the fact that I quit the job that led me to meet him and watched every blitzball game he played, memorized all his stats, and was now standing in front of a blitzball arena, ready to take a job that I otherwise never would have applied for?

It's raining, which is definitely not a good start to my summer. Even so, I can't bring myself to walk into the large building that looms in front of me, despite the fact that my hair is soaking in the moisture of the rain and the makeup is undoubtedly running. I blink a few times. It's summer, I remind myself. Surely the makeup was unnecessary. He's not here anyway.

With that as my final thought, I take a deep breath, and march up the stone steps leading to the main door. When I reach the door, I find myself stopping, and I take a deep breath. I'm here. I'm in Zanarkand. I turn around, glad to be guarded from the rain by the awning over the door.

I'm in Zanarkand.

I feel like giggling suddenly. I allow my eyes to dart around my rain-induced hazy surroundings, and imagine what the arena must look like when blitzball is in-season. I imagine the fans rushing to the box-office to purchase the tickets they didn't think they needed. The season-ticket holders rushing through the seats, waving at people they know. Everybody clad in jerseys, kids sitting on their father's shoulders, clinging to blitzballs. I spin around, not caring about the dreamy expression on my face. This is professional blitzball. This is the location of his team. His team.

I quickly attempt to wake myself up from my revelry. I smile as if smiling to myself, as I remind myself that it's not my fault. It's been an entire year of dreaming and wishing to be standing on the very step that I am standing on. How could I not take a few moments to revel in the fact that I was finally standing in front of the main door at the Zanarkand Grand Stadium?

It'd been a scheme I had hatched the second he left. I vowed to find a way to get there, to get to where he was. And that was when I stumbled upon the option.

I was browsing his team's website (…okay, and I'll admit, I had been maybe obsessively checking the website. In my defense, I wanted to see what his new number was going to be!) when I saw that there were employment options. Curious, I clicked on the option, and it was then that the plan formed. Summer internships available. Perfect.

It wasn't really that easy, though. I spent the year building up my resume, searching for places to live, convincing my father… and then, when I finally was able to apply, I spent every night without sleep, my eyes pried open. What if I didn't get the internship? Then what? What if they turned me down? What if they said I would never even get another chance? What if I got it, and my father decided not to let me go?

And the worst. What if I did get it?

My stomach churns. I did get it. I was ecstatic. My dad wasn't so ecstatic, but he allowed me to go. And now, here I am. Zanarkand. The Zanarkand Grand Stadium. My suitcase is packed. My laptop is slung over my shoulder. I even bought the summer's trendiest clothes, trendiest makeup, and had my hair chemically straightened (even though it was already straight…) and got a new, trendy haircut. I felt as though I was going to a fashion internship, and not a sport internship.

But I had to. I bite my lip. I had to do all of that. Because he is here, somewhere in this city. And that is the reason why I not only dreadfully wanted to come to Zanarkand, but also the reason that I dreaded coming to Zanarkand.

"When he sees me, he's gonna know I came just for him," I find myself whispering out loud as I put my hand on the handle of the door. With a deep breath, I pull hard, and open the door.

-

It had to have been love at first sight. I was one of those girls who thought they were above love. I was self-righteous and maybe even a little full of myself. I thought makeup was for the "easy" girls and never bothered to do my hair—I always just put it in a pony tail. I was a freshman in college and was studying hard, focusing on nothing but class, studying, and my part-time job that I hated.

Me being me, I thought I was pretty special for going to my town's private school, and not the dull public university that mostly everybody seemed to go to. The bad part, of course, was the price-tag. Which meant a part-time job for me.

I looked everywhere for a job. It's funny—I managed to snatch up a fairly competitive internship with little problem, but getting a retail job was another story. I tried everywhere I could think to try—the mall, office buildings, lawn-care companies, and even McSpiran's! Nothing was hiring! I was ready to give up altogether when I finally found the job. My dad actually found it for me, saying that he was driving home from work when he passed the Bevelle Civic Center, and saw a giant "NOW HIRING" sign on the window. Apparently, my father told me with a large, proud grin on his face, the Bevelle Civic Center was home to Bevelle University's blitzball team. And as winter drew near, they needed people to work concessions.

The idea appalled me. So yeah, maybe it was better than working at McSpiran's, but not by much. I had visions of myself mopping dirty bathrooms, drunk blitzball fans breathing their beer-breath on me as they ordered their nachos, and myself delivering popcorn to old creepy men in their private boxes. Just the same, I knew it was the only job I would be able to get.

I did get the job, too. And in October, I was there, for the university's home-opener, standing at a small cart that offered free samples of a new sports drink the university was endorsing.

The uniform I had to wear consisted of a scratchy black polo with khaki jeans. I put my hair into the usual bland pony tail, and arrived at the Civic Center two hours before the game, like I was supposed to. My manager gave me a quick preview of what I was supposed to do ("Stand here and say, "would you like a sample?"' the short, large man said to me), and with that, I was left alone. Throughout the wide hallway of the civic center's concourse, it was just me, a large cooler full of the sports drink, and numerous paper cups for me to pour the bottles into for samples.

I began my job, deciding that at least I'd be getting paid to just stand there. I poured out the samples into the cups, and began to set them out in front of me on the table.

Suddenly, I heard laughter and voices echoing throughout the hallways. I stole a glance at my watch, and furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. The doors wouldn't be opening in another hour. I felt my face lighten. Surely it was other workers arriving, those poor souls who had to work concessions, slaving over pretzels, nachos, and greasy hamburger grills.

Instead of seeing fellow black polo wearers with khaki pants, I saw a group of young men running toward me—that's right, running—wearing what appeared to be black warm-ups. It didn't take me long to realize that it was a blitzball team. Of course, I had no idea if it was the home team or the away team.

They ran around the corner toward me, their voices booming through the concourse. They didn't seem to be taking their warm-up jog (that's what I was assuming it was) very seriously.

I saw a few of their eyes go to me, and they appeared shocked, for they must not have expected anybody else to be in the concourse.

"Oh hey, I wonder what that girl has," I heard one of them say.

"Looks like some kind of juice?"

The two talking passed me, running ahead of the rest.

A second group passed, and they were mostly silent, their eyes quickly scanning over me and my samples, and talking about something I didn't understand.

A third group approached then, and I realized this was the group whose laughter I heard. They appeared to be younger than the first two groups of runners, and they were laughing so hard at something that they could barely seem to run straight.

And that's when I saw him.

"Yevon, I'm so damn thirsty!" he said, and just as the (rather crude words) escaped his mouth, his eyes suddenly flickered to my own. At that time, I had no idea that I would be treasuring the look I first saw in his eyes.

Of course, his eyes didn't stay on mine for long, and instead, they dropped to the cups I had lain out on the table.

"Hey, perfect!" he said, and he jogged over toward me. I felt my eyes widen in horror. I didn't know if blitzball players were allowed to receive free samples.

"Tidus, you can't just go steal that juice stuff," one of his teammates said as they ran past, shaking his head.

"Is it okay?" the guy—Tidus?—asked, as he picked up a cup of the blue liquid.

I had no idea, but I found myself nodding.

"Excellent," he said. "What is it?"

"Some… sports drink," I managed, and I grabbed a bottle of it and held it up.

"Is it good?" he asked me, his smooth face seeming honestly concerned about the taste of the beverage.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I haven't tried it."

He put the cup to his lips and quickly gulped it down.

"Hey, not bad," he said, putting his empty cup back down where he had picked it up, and then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his black jacket. "If you need a sales pitch, just tell 'em Tidus likes it." With that, he raised his eyebrows at me, and darted off toward his team.

And that was it. I couldn't stop thinking about him. I left his empty cup there, which caused much confusion from the many blitzball fans who came to try the drink. And without knowing why, when people asked me if the liquid tasted good, I told them just what Tidus had told me to tell them.

"Well, Tidus of the blitzball team likes it!" I'd say.

To my surprise, they acted as if they had no idea who Tidus was. Finally, a man decked out in what appeared to be Bevelle University merchandise enlightened me, saying, "Oh, that new freshman! He's small, but I hear if he can put some weight on, he'll be good" when I told him that "Tidus likes it!"

Tidus the freshman. Not well-known apparently. Tidus. I couldn't help but play his name over and over in my head. Without even realizing what I was doing, I managed to take a look at the blitzball program. I smiled at Tidus' roster picture. He looked younger than the rest, and a quick glance at his stats proved this. He was my age, whereas everybody else on the team seemed to be at least a year or two older.

I couldn't help but smile at my picture. His blue eyes didn't seem to sparkle in the picture like they had when they had momentarily met mine. In fact, he looked nervous and uncertain in the picture, his mouth slightly agape, almost as if he wasn't ready for the picture to be taken. I even ended up buying the program.

I continued the work at the job for two months, sometimes working concessions, and yes, sometimes mopping the bathroom. The job was disgusting and demanding, but I didn't mind. I never did see Tidus run past again, but I liked to hear about how he was doing from the fans who went into the concourses during halftime to talk about the game. Every time I heard the buzzer go off inside the arena, I always found myself holding my breath and leaning my head toward the doorway, hoping to hear the announcer announce that it had been Tidus that had scored the goal.

Halfway through the season, it was usually Tidus' name I heard floating from the speakers as the announcer announced his goal. And every time, I felt myself sigh, as I sat there at my table, the sports drinks spread out around me, my head in my hands. I wanted to be able to see one of Tidus' goals.

And that is why I quit. The job market was better, and I managed to find a job at my school's bookstore, the perfect job, considering that I never had to work weekends. Weekends were for blitzball games.

It was unpleasant not being able to walk through the Civic Center doors early, and my hopes of seeing Tidus run past again were no more, but there was a surge of excitement that could not be matched as I finally was able to take a seat inside of the arena, with the blitz sphere in front of me. I was a good hour early, one of the first people through the doors. There was always a small satisfaction I got, knowing that I was in the same building as Tidus. For some reason, knowing that it would be the first time I actually got to see him since the first time I saw him gave me an even greater sense of excitement.

Finally, the guys swam out for warm-ups, and my eyes darted through the pool for him. I know I probably didn't breathe when I finally caught sight of him. There he was, swimming quickly, his eyes focused ahead of him, the number twenty-three blazing on his back. He was chomping hard on gum, which shocked me, especially since I had no idea how he managed to chew gum underwater. The whole being-under-water thing didn't even seem to phase him.

The game started, and it seemed as if everybody was on the edge of their seat when Tidus was in the pool. I heard the people next to me say "I can't wait to see what that kid does today." It made me smile. I just a matter of months, Tidus had gone from a nobody mooching free samples from me who only an old die-hard fan knew of, to the fan favorite.

It wasn't far into the game that I realized why Tidus had grown into a fan-favorite. He was breathtakingly amazing, and perhaps I was biased in that opinion, but I really didn't breathe whenever the ball was in his hand. He swam much smoother than the others (not that I was really watching them) and his movements were perhaps more fluid than the water around him. He could easily dark around his opponents, his mouth agape, even though I wondered how he kept from inhaling the water around him.

Throughout all of this, I couldn't figure out my apparent obsession with Tidus. I couldn't figure it out at all.

But when I saw him push his way through two of his opponents and dart around a defenseman, it began to dawn on me. And when he suddenly threw the ball off of the goal post and spun around to kick his own rebound into the net, I knew the answer. As the crowd around me jumped up, covering my view from Tidus, I knew exactly why I couldn't get him out of my mind.

I was in love with him. Love at first sight, maybe, but no matter what the reason, I was in love with him. I was in love with a blonde blitzball player who I knew nothing about.

And that is why I am now standing in the glamorous entrance way of the Zanarkand Grand Stadium, suitcase in hand, laptop slung over my shoulder, eyes wide and outlined in blue eyeliner. That is why my heart is pounding, my brain running. That is why I haven't been able to sleep, both from excitement at being able to see him, and from dread of what he's going to think when he realizes I've followed him all the way to Zanarkand.

I swallow hard. He wouldn't have remembered me from my days working in the civic center. He wouldn't remember the moment when our eyes first met. But he would remember the last time I saw him, just a year ago. He would remember me.

But it would be worth it. My eyes suddenly narrow in determination. It will be worth it. I'm in his territory now, and it's just me and him. No distractions, no interruptions. And besides, it's summer. Blitzball offseason. I might not even see him. But being in the same city as him gives me the same exhileration that being in the same building gave me.

With my chin up, I put on a smile, and I continue forward. There's no escaping me.