A damn good try. Owen Farrell fanfic

4. Over the bar

I sprint through the park, squealing. Owen is tight on my heels, but I have the upper hand. I know this park. I run across the big football pitch and around the clubhouse. He goes around one way and I run the other. I laugh, as he tries to find me. I head back towards the willow.

Looking behind me, Owen has disappeared so I put on a final burst of speed. Suddenly arms grab my waist and I'm rugby tackled to the floor. I pant in between giggles and brush grass out of my face. Owen lies on top of me. "Can't breathe.." I wheeze, over-exaggerating.

When he still doesn't move I push his chest. He slides off to the side. "Told you to run, not walk." I thump him in the chest. "Still took you a good five minutes to find me" "Suure" he drawls. I roll my eyes and stand up. I start to walk back towards the tree. "Where are you going?" Owen calls.

"To get my shoes" I say, pointing at my bare feet. He nods and jumps up. I find my shoes and slip them on again. I sit down, still trying to get my breath back. He throws himself carelessly beside me and I flinch. I shake my head, "Boys" He smirks.

He burps loudly and I elbow him. "Do you sharpen your elbows each or something?" "Haha" I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The air is chilly but not too cold. 'Fresh.' I notice Owen shiver and smile. "Cold Farrell?" "Sorry, I know that you, being an ice-queen are used to the cold, but us mere mortals struggle."

"The cold never bothered me anyway" Owen groans, "God, not that movie" "You've seen it?" "Dan Cole is obsessed with it" I stifle a laugh at that. "It's true!" He protests. "Hmm" "No offence, but how do you know so much about rugby?" He asks, changing the subject as he lays down besides me, so our our arms are touching.

"I play rugby, and it's always been a big part of my childhood, growing up we watched it. It's so much better than soccer" I start, "I wasn't obsessed, but I was that kid in school who knew every thing about rugby. I lost interest when I was 15, as I was teased, called a boy. Then I realised I missed it and went back two years later."
  
"Helped overcome your homicidal urges did it?" "You're hilarious" "I thought so," Stars start to appear in the sky and a smile spreads across my face. "Look at that! It's a shooting star." Owen calls out, pointing up. I peer through the branches and giggle. "That's a plane Farrell" He goes bright red and I laugh harder, until my sides start to hurt.

"You can't see the stars this clearly in London" He mumbles. "Okay" I say, patting his arm. "Funny how we only met this morning" I freeze, "Oh, God" "I've been called that before, but no I'm not" I stifle an eye-roll. I stand up and back away. "Ermm, Erin, you okay" I shake my head.

"Erin?" He stands up too and steps towards me. I take a shaky breath. "Erin, what's wrong" "I just realised." "What?" Owen presses. "You could be a dangerous criminal impersonating Farrell" Owen sags in relief, and the hint of a smile flickers across my face.

"I thought something was actually wrong" "How do I know it's you?" "I'll prove it"

And thats how we end up kicking a rugby ball we found in the bushes over the posts at ten o' clock at night. Owen lines the ball up and steps back. He does the weird eye tracing thing and I smile. He kicks the ball and it arches over the post. "Good enough for you?" He asks after I return from chasing after it.

I nod, "Yep, it's definitely you" "How did you guess?" He says, laying on the sarcasm. "The weird eye thing" I reply before skipping out of his reach. "Not my mad skills?" He suggests. "Mad skills?" I ask innocently as I line the ball up for myself.

He starts into a rant about his skills and I nod and "Uhhhuh" at the right moments. "Ahem" I cough and step back. Sizing up the angle I start to walk towards the ball. I kick it, ignoring the pain that flashes through the outer arch, as I make contact with the hard ball. I had had to take off my heels, no way was I making the kick with them on!

The ball soars through the air and through the post, and Owen falls silent. I smile and hand my shoes to him. He takes them surprised. I walk through the park to the gate, Owen trailing behind. "I take it you play kicker?" He asks as I take my shoes back, slipping them on before I step onto the cobblestone pavement. "What gave it away?"

I yawn and look at my watch. It reads half ten. I'm wrecked though, and I have work tomorrow at nine. I tell Owen this and he pouts. "Can I see you afterwards then?" He asks, my heart flutters. "Sure, why not, my shift ends at one." "I'll pick you up and bring you to lunch, then, I think, we need to talk about your kicking skills." I gasp, mouth dropping open.

"Are they not good enough for your royal highness?" He shakes his head. "They're sloppy" "You'll be sloppy when I'm done with you" I mutter, and Owen laughs. I hail a taxi. "Wait! I don't know my way back!" "Ask then," I nod my head at the many bars. "Or use google maps." Owen frowns. I tell the driver where I'm going.

As we pull away I call out, "Bye Farrell" He waves and a second later my phone beeps.

Smarmy Git: Good night, try not to dream about me too much...