Miss Matched // Thomas Sangster Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty-Three - Power

You stretch your sore limbs in the early morning darkness. Slight aches have been giving you dull pains all over your body over the past week. Just a side effect of working hard. The school had pulled the large, white van around to the front of the campus, where the boxing team was meeting to leave for the matches today. It was quite cold out, since the sun had not yet peaked over the horizon to give a sleepy good morning.

Coach Pollard climbs out of the van with a clipboard in hand, counting off her students. You take another deep breath of the cold air that shocks your lungs before you lean over to touch your toes. The girls are already huddled up in the back of the van with blankets to cover them, but you couldn't sit still.

"I'm going to have to go knock down Thomas and Palmer's doors if they aren't down here in the next three minutes," Coach Pollard mumbles, looking at her wristwatch.

It was unlike Thomas to be late. But you couldn't let that worry you right now. All you needed to do was mentally prepare for the match today. Raising your arms over your head, you take a few more deep breaths.

"Here they come," you hear Roy yawn from where he leans against the van.

Palmer and Thomas are carefully jogging across the frozen ground, their expressions turning guilty when they see Coach Pollard's disapproving expression.

"Sorry," Thomas says to her as soon as he stops in front of her.

She tuts, "Mr. Sangster and Mr. Huckleberry, you knew what time you were supposed to be here?"

"Yes, Coach."

She frowns, "Then I assume next time you'll work harder to get here on time?"

"Yes, Coach." They chorus.

"Good. Everyone in the van!" She says, clapping her hands together.

You turn to get in the van, looking to the very back row. Connie is sandwiched between Ariana and Erica, texting on her flip phone. Ariana and Erica both lean against the glass, sleeping peacefully. Sighing, you slip into the row directly in front of them. The van only has three seats per row. The van seated twelve people, but there were only eleven of you, so it wouldn't be horribly cramped.

Thomas sits in the middle seat beside you, smiling over at you, "Morning."

"Hey," you smile back at him, feeling a nervous energy creep into you as his leg brushes against yours. This is really the last thing you need right now. Although it makes you happy that Thomas chose to sit next to you, you also wish he'd sat somewhere else. Recently, he'd been doing things that made your heart races and your palms sweat. This was not the energy you needed before the first match of the season.

"Feeling alright?" Thomas asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, glancing out the window into the blackness. The doors to the van shut and Coach Pollard starts the van. A few seconds later, you're rolling away from the school and on the two hour journey to the matches.

Your teammates settle into the van. Some fall asleep, others stuff earbuds into their ears and pull out their ipods. The van is quiet. You might be able to get a nap in before you arrive too.

Trying your hardest not to look over at Thomas and distract yourself further, you reach for your phone, which you left on the seat between yourself and Thomas. The van's tinted windows make the interior of the van too dark to try and find it by sight anyways. You frown as you slide your hand along the smooth leather. Instead of finding your phone, you grasp Thomas's warm hand.

Your heart skips a beat and you whisper, "Oh, sorry. Just trying to find my phone."

"Sure," Thomas teases. You're glad it's too dark for Thomas to really see your red face. A second later, you hear him shuffle in his seat, and then his hand meets yours again. This time, you can feel him pressing your phone into your palm. He leans over to you, whispering in your ear, "Sorry, I was sitting on it. Didn't realize."