My Sweetheart (Alan Bosley x OC)

2

The guys had forced me to come to their midday practice, and since I had nothing better to do, I came along. I'd fallen asleep after a few games, with a random pair of sunglasses resting on my nose. Sprawled across a bench, one of my hands lay on my chest, following the rhythm of my deep breaths. I was enjoying the sunshine a little too much.

The flash of a camera woke me with a start. Lowering the glasses, I looked over the frames before covering my face with embarrassment. Half of the football team stared down at me, laughing. Alan Bosley laughing harder than them all. He had been filming me with my own video camera.

My cheeks flushed red, and I stood up attempting to grab the camera out of his hands. He shook his head, wiggling his finger at me while lifting my camera above his head.

"There's no way you're getting this camera, Julie." He laughed, shaking his head to get his soft blonde hair out of his eyes.

"Cmon Alan, you know you love me." I attempted to win him over. It worked.

"You have a point." He sighed, tilting his head, trying to decide whether to give me my camera or not.

Eventually Alan smirked at me, rolling his eyes. He flipped the video camera off and handed it over reluctantly. The boys wound him up, wolf whistling and shoving him lightly. I took the camera, a little flustered from being videotaped and surprised that he had given in after I said that. And from all of the attention. Luckily for me, Coach Yoast dismissed everyone, and began to pack away the equipment, taking an excited Sheryl with him. I sighed with relief as the boys began to disperse, and sat back on the bleachers.

Coach Bill Yoast was my uncle, I had been living with him since I was 11. When my father died, my mother changed for the worst. She was cruel, and neglected me. I guess it was lucky that she had so graciously decided to abandon me on his doorstep and move abroad. His daughter Sheryl and I grew as close as sisters, and Coach taught us to play his sport. That's where my passion for football began, and how I met my best friends. Gerry and Alan. I was pretty close with Gerry's girlfriend Emma too, but I always seemed to be correcting their racist comments.

In my opinion, equality is free, so why not treat everyone with the same respect? It's a lot less effort than hating someone because of the colour of their skin.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned my attention to Alan, who sat himself beside me. He smiled, running his hand through his hair. I thought back to what had happened just a few moments ago. It meant nothing. It must have.

We were just friends.

I sighed, laying my head in his lap. The sunglasses fell down my nose a little. I noted that I needed to return them to whoever I'd borrowed them from.

"Hey, those are my shades. You better not break those."

Alan snatched the glasses from me playfully. He put them on, acting satirically cool before placing them back on my face gently, careful not to catch my eyes. His fingers lingered on my cheek, causing me to scream internally. I hummed in thanks as he let go.

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound being Alan's frustrated growls as he tried, and failed, repeatedly to plait my brunette hair. It was really difficult to braid, even for me, because my natural curls would knot together whenever I tried. I sat up abruptly, almost head butting him.

"I bet I could french-braid your hair. It looks long enough."

"No way. No. Definitely not." Alan shook his head, covering his eyes with his hand, trying to avoid my puppy dog eyes.

"Please Alan, I'll be gentle, I promise." I begged, jutting out my bottom lip.

"But, but my hair its all sweaty from practice!" He stammered, trying to think of excuses to not let me touch his hair.

"Alan, you have the most beautiful hair in the world." I sweet talked, "Well, apart from mine. And if you let me do this, I will love you forever and ever."

Alan raised an eyebrow, not believing me, but began to smirk.

I put a hand on my heart. "Alan Bosley I swear, I will love you forever."

"If you let me do this." I added.

Alan finally gave in, and sat patiently while I plaited his hair. He picked up my camera, facing it towards both of us, and filmed me finishing the second braid.

"Done," I said letting go of his hair.

I fumbled through my purse trying to find my pocket mirror. I angled it so that Alan could see his hair, and he looked mortified. I sat back and laughed, as he complained about the crazy things he let me talk him into.

"Take it out Julie, I look ridiculous!" He groaned, trying to yank the braids out.

"Don't you like it? I think you look like a beautiful princess."

Coach appeared at the bottom of the bleachers, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.

"Alan, son, what on Earth happened to your hair?" He laughed, already knowing the answer.

Alan pouted, half-jokingly, and pointed at me, pretending to sulk. Uncle Bill walked off shaking his head, smiling.

"Alan, honey, stop acting like a baby. I'll take it out if you really want me to." I giggled.

I quickly took out the braids in Alan's hair, and ran my fingers through it gently, smoothing out the tiny waves the braids had created.

"You happy now?" I asked.

"I'm always happy when I'm with you, sweetheart."