A damn good try. Owen Farrell fanfic

5. Coffees and kicks

My alarm comes to life and I moan and open my eyes. I rub away any last trace of sleep and push back the covers. I cringe at the cold morning air and consider staying home. Realising my stupidity I get up and stumble into the bathroom. I turn on the shower and wait for it to warm up.

When it's ready I step in, careful not to get my hair wet. I wash and then just stand under the warm water for a while. (Who doesn't?) Eventually I get out and towel myself off. I slap on some moisturiser, brush my hair up into a ponytail and go back to my room. I pick out underwear and black leggings.

Rummaging through my drawers I decide on a blue top. I pull it over my head and scramble around for my shoes. I lace up the black converse and head back to the bathroom. I apply concealer, powder and mascara and head into the kitchen. I pick up my satchel and unplug my phone from it's charger. I chuck it into the bag along with my purse and keys.

Pulling on a light jacket in case it rains, I walk out the front door. Cursing Bella and her unwillingness to drop me to work or let me borrow her car I push up my hood to protect my hair against the grey drizzle. In fairness I hadn't told her that Ford had a girlfriend so she was annoyed at me... Oops?

I strolled through the busy streets, anxious to get to the bakery where I worked. The weather reflected everyone's mood. Monday morning, 8:45, who would be happy? Pushing open the door my co-worker Angie greeted me with a grunt. She wasn't the friendliest, to say the least.

I went into the back and dropped my bag into my locker. I pulled out my apron and tied it around my waist. Usually I got the earlier morning shift but since I was off school, I was given the lunch rush, Yay...

Going to the till, I serve the few customers that arrive. Around half eleven the bakery starts to come alive, and soon it is lost in the seemingly endless queue of workers on their lunch break. I serve dozens of people and my cheeks start to hurt from smiling.

At 12:55 I glance longingly at the clock. "Oh no you don't" Angie snaps at me, disrupting my plan to leave early. I spot Marcus and Eve, our replacements. They head into the back and Marcus comes out with an apron on. I move to leave and he points at the clock, "One more minute" he smirks, and I resist the urge to hit him. I count down the seconds until I storm off into the back.

I throw my apron into the locker and pick up my bag. I know it's not a big deal but I'm still annoyed. I walk back out to see Owen waiting for me. He smirks but it falters when he sees my thunderous expression. "Let's go" I mutter, wanting out of this bakery. Just as we leave Marcus catches sight of Owen.

"Is that Owen Farre" We don't hear the rest of his sentence as I drag Owen out the door. "Tough day?" Owen asks. "Save it Farrell, just tell me where we're going." "To your apartment to get you're stuff and then to the rugby pitch." I lead Owen to the flat and unlock the door. The weather had cleared up, still it was cold.

We step into the apartment and I head to my room. Owen moves to come in but I stop him. "Wait" I order and he does, to my surprise. I close the door and whip off my top. I change to a sports bra and pull on a Leinster rugby top. I grab the bag I keep my boots in and go back out to Owen.

He leads me back into the streets and after twenty minutes we arrive at a rugby pitch. Owen meets someone there and they talk as I lace up my boots. "Thanks so much for letting us use here" "No problem, it's a honour" The person goes inside and comes out later with a big bag of balls and some kicking tees, he then leaves.

Owen swaps his shoes too and I start a lap around the pitch. Owen soon joins me, "Whatchya doing?" "Tore a muscle two years ago because I didn't warm up properly. Missed half the season. Not doing that again!" He nods and we fall into a synchronised jog.

After we're finished we stretch quickly and then Owen lays out the balls. "Would you show me your drop kicks?" He asks and I roll my eyes, laughing. We practise for what seems like hours, kicking balls through the post, from different angles. I let off steam and then I start to feel bad about how I treated Owen at the start.

"Farrell,' I start and he looks up from the touchline. "Thanks, I'm sorry about earlier, work was tough." To my surprise he doesn't rub it in or smirk. He just nods and returns his attention to the ball. After kicking it he retrieves it and is about to drop kick it when I run front of him.

The ball smacks off my hands and I scramble froward after it, I scoop it up and sprint towards the opposite try line. Realising what I'm trying to do, Owen chases after me. I'm a couple of meters away when he draws level with me. Putting on a burst of speed so he's onside he stops and readies to tackles me.

I try to side step but Owen grabs me. He pulls me to the ground and smirks."Too bad" he whispers into my ear. I smile back. "Whoops," I say, gesturing at my outstretched arm, which is holding the ball on the ground over the line. Owen turns to see it, and groans.

"Too bad" I say, mirroring his words. He tickles me and I roll away. I leap up and he throws me over his shoulder, I pound his back, laughing.

Thank you so much for 50 reads! I honestly didn't think this story would get any,

Anyone else devastated at the fact England are out of the world cup? :(
Xx0