I wasn't a superstitious person.

I've never believed that stepping on a crack would break your mother's back, I've never been tempted to ward off evil by knocking on wood or throwing salt over my shoulders, and the magical charm of crossing one's finger and wishing for the best wore off for me after my second try in kindergarten. Miss Abigail still slipped on my vomit and shattered her knee, and I was still the class pariah for putting everyone's favorite teacher out for the rest of the year.

But in a time like this--with an internship like this--I needed to perform all the juju in the world and call to all the higher heavens I could for assistance.

I've wanted this more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. The highly lucrative and insanely selective business management internship at NextQuest. The billion-dollar company that was going to kickstart my prolific corporate career.

I needed it. So I avoided every crack on every sidewalk for the entire week. I knocked on every piece of wood in our small apartment, and I rummaged through the kitchen for a salt shaker and flicked two pinches behind my back right before I submitted my application for the third time.

I desperately hoped the third time was the charm.

As I obsessively stared at an overview of my submitted application, checking for any possible errors, pondering my chances of success, I felt a pair of hands smack against my shoulders. It caused me to twitch back against the hard seat of my desk chair, wishing I'd taken the time to lock my door like usual.

"Leah, I need you to snap out of it already." My roommate Claudia whispered in my ear, and of course, she ended up being the culprit

I turned my seat and shot a scowl her way, hoping it would melt some of the smugness planted straight on her face.

Despite that wish, I did appreciate the firm weight she's consistently kept planted on my neck the last seven years of our friendship. I'm someone who's prone to what Claudia had so creatively named "Manic Leah Disorder" which apparently involved me hyper fixating on the anything random, from life-changing situations to tiny inconsequential everyday things, and spending what she believed to be an unhealthy amount of time obsessing over their potential outcomes.

I guess some people would think spending hours staring at a job application with the hopes of telepathically mind controlling some HR managers into choosing them is obsessive.

"I'm not crazy, I just need to make sure there are no errors in my application." I felt the need to defend myself against the one person in the world I was certain would never truly judge me. "You know most of these companies put their applications through those automated systems. One mistake and my information is shredded into pieces before an actual human even gets the chance to view it."

"I'm not saying you're crazy, I'm saying you need to chill. Stressing over your application won't speed up the hiring process and it won't get you the internship, so there's no point in getting all wonky," she said. "Besides, it's almost two and if you haven't forgotten, we've got somewhere to be."

I double checked the time on the bottom of my computer screen, quickly rising out of my seat. "Crap, the game is about to start."

"Yes, the game is about to start and you're sitting here in your sweats with a five o'clock Cheeto stache that could rival a 70's male porn star's."

"Shoot." I reached for my small mirror and aggressively started wiping the corners of my mouth which, just as Claudia said, had crumbs of Cheeto residue stained on it. Leave it to me to fall asleep in the middle of snacking earlier.

I turned back to her, getting ready to ask for help but before I could even get the word out, she already headed towards my face with a wet wipe.

"There you go." She dabbed the corners of my lips and discarded the wipe in my trash bin.

Claudia's always had this natural maternal quality to her, the need to take care of everyone whether she knew them or not. 

"Are you already dressed?" I asked, looking up and down at her dark jeans and Clayton University t-shirt that she cut into a crop top. 

"I've been ready for ages." She grinned, reaching for my makeup bag. "And since I'm all ready, I can spend my undivided attention taking care of you."

"You know how much I appreciate your fashion and makeup skills, but I have work straight after the game and I don't really feel like waiting tables with a full face of makeup."

She dropped one of my makeup brushes back in the bag with a pout. "Fine, I really just wanted to try out this new look I saw on Instagram but I'll save it for another day."

"Why not just do it on yourself?" I said.

"Because, it doesn't compliment my features as well. I need your eyelid space and cheekbones." She replied, without a hint of self-consciousness.

I always admired her confidence. While mine was mostly academic, Claudia's confidence was all encompassing. She was confident in her intelligence, she was confident in her plus-sized body, and she was confident in her doe-like face and easy-going personality.

Me on the other hand, I felt content with myself. Yes, that was the best word to describe it, content.

Academically, career wise, I wanted to be exceptional no question about that, but in terms of everything else, I was fine with just being content.

After some back and forth, I agreed to let Claudia do a much more simplified version of her Instagram makeup look, and with a fresh pair of blue jeans and an uncropped Clayton shirt of my own, we were ready to head to the football stadium.

Our apartment was only a few minutes away from campus and since was such a nice day we decided to walk. 

Clayton university invests in itself, there's no doubt about that. You could see our steep tuition costs in the new six level parking garage they've finished over the summer, you could see it in the high rise STEM building with state of the art utilities, and you could see it in the perfectly trimmed, neatly clean, expansive land we walked through to get to the stadium.

By the time we arrived, it's so packed you would've thought we showed up five minutes before kickoff, not thirty. It made sense though, the lions were one of the best college football teams in the country and our fans were die hard and loyal to the bone. The frenzy after they made it to the championships last year never ceased to amaze me. It started with nearly the entire stadium swarming the field and ended with a riot and two weeks of straight partying. Too bad they ended up losing.

Claudia and I were definitely observers of that time, not contributors. Our love for football ran as deep as our love for our friend, Jordan, who's position as backup wide receiver was the only reason we even watched the games.

We were there to support him wholeheartedly, even if that meant watching him sit on the bench for ninety percent of the games. It meant I didn't have much reason to pay attention. I've often completely zoned out, just as I do this time when both Clayton and Penn state players got to the field and apparently began playing, all while I scrolled through my checklist for the start of the semester on my phone. 

"I know we're on our journey of celibacy but damn do these guys look hot in tight pants." Claudia said.

I gave the game my attention for the first time since it started. Jordan of course, was sitting on the bench by the side, eyes glued to his teammates on the field.

The quarterback, Nate Holloway, had just thrown the ball from his hand when he was tackled to the ground by Penn State's defense. He aimed for number 23, the wide receiver, who ended up catching it from the forty yard line and charged straight ahead, bulldozing through attempted tackles. The audience around us jumped out of their seats, cheering and pumping their fist as number 23 sped ahead, seeming unstoppable.

He made it all the way to the fifteen yard line when he was finally pummeled to the ground by two linebackers who looked twice his size. Despite the blow, the still crowd went crazy and the players on the field dabbed each other up with a fist bump and little victory dance.

"Eh." I shrugged. "They look alright."

Claudia and I both took a celibacy oath right after we finished unpacking our apartment yesterday. Nothing serious and definitely not religiously motivated. Just a promise not to let lousy hookups get in the way of our potential prosperity this year. We followed that oath with a bet on who would break theirs first. I loved the girl, but in terms of sheer willpower,  I could take her any day and I bet two months of cooking dinners on it.

I spent the rest of the game zoning in and out. After such a great play, Clayton easily got a touchdown and soon after it was a blitzkrieg that ended with them 32-12.

As the audience began descending from the bleachers and the stadium slowly emptied out, Claudia and I stayed in our seats until we received a text from Jordan in the group chat, letting us know he was waiting by the entrance.

We made our way down and I took the time to quickly check my school email. My macroeconomics professor published our course early. I added it to my notes and made myself a reminder to read the syllabus as soon as I got home from work tonight.

Right as I put my phone back in my pocket, I caught sight of Nate Holloway, walking straight in my direction. I tried to swerve out of his way, but he had his phone glued to his face and unfortunately didn't swerve out of mine. His broad shoulder knocked against my much less broad one and his leg hit mine, tripping me over.

I felt a pair of big hands hook around my waist and pick me off of the ground before I could fully face plant. It was Nate and before I could let the shock register, he ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair and grimaced, focusing back on his phone. He walked straight past me like nothing happened.

"Sorry about that." He yelled, well over a few feet behind me like it was an afterthought.

Was that apology even directed towards me? I couldn't tell.

"Did Nate Holloway just knock you over?" Claudia said. I guess it happened so quickly neither of us could really believe it.

"What a dick." I muttered, rolling my eyes. I couldn't stand these pompous athletes and their superiority complex.

I could be a little cocky too, but I knew how to keep it to myself. These jersey bros, though, they insisted on shoving it down everyone's throat. Throwing and catching balls really wasn't as life changing as they made it out to be.

Jordan appeared by the entrance, smiling at us, no doubt ecstatic about the win. He's one athlete I've never been able to find unbearable. He's simply too wholesome, too nice. 

"Congrats on the game." I smiled back, attempting to brush off my unpleasant encounter.

"Yeah, big boy was sitting very handsomely on the bench. All thanks to good old coach-daddy Wells." Claudia teased, nudging Jordan's stomach.

"Thank you, coach-daddy Wells always told me, if I'm gonna spend all my time on that bench, I better sit as hot as possible." Jordan said, always being one to play into a joke even if it was at his own expense. 

It was no secret that Jordan's dad, Matthew Wells, was the teams head coach and it was even less of a secret that it played a direct role in Jordan securing his spot on the team. He was never one to shy away from that fact and it was so refreshingly real to hear. 

"So how are we celebrating this win?" Claudia asked the both of us.

She and Jordan grew silent and began brainstorming ideas.

I checked my watch. "You guys can have fun planning your celebration, I need to get to work." 

I had enough sports frenzy for the day. The last thing I wanted was another bump in with Nate Holloway or any of his tethered variations.