Rivals - L.S.

Three - Day 1

Harry finally made it to the field. He was out of breath, feeling like his head might explode at any moment and the practice hadn't even started yet. Harry saw boys warming up and lingering around the dugout, making him feel relieved that he wasn't too late. He threw his bag down onto the bench and sat beside it, trying to catch his air and give his eyes a second to adjust.

"Well! Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Popstar!" Louis laughed from the opposite end of the dugout. His toned arms were crossed and he was grinning. He was missing a cap today, now having his hair tucked back into a headband which looked so good that Harry kind of wanted to cry. His blue eyes were locked on the curly haired lad, Harry feeling kind of intimidated.

Then Harry remembered what happened the night before. Louis basically threatened to kick him off the team, Harry was angry all over again. He rolled his eyes dramatically, even though his sunglasses kept it hidden. "Anytime, Shorty," he said sassily before grabbing a glove off of the bench.

It was times like this when Harry really wished Louis was less attractive and mean. That would've made Harry having an attitude so much easier, Harry was struggling to be rude to Louis since he was arguably the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. The physical attraction was getting in the way and Harry despised it. 

Louis watched him, eyes like daggers as Harry brushed past him to head out onto the field. Harry felt proud of himself, pleased that he wasn't backing down like he usually would have. He saw Liam and Luke throwing a ball back and forth from across two bases. Harry headed straight for Luke.

"Good morning, Sunshine. I'm surprised you're here. You were in pretty bad shape last night. How's your hangover?" Luke asked, signaling for Liam to join them.

"Harry! You're alive! I swear, I've never seen someone throw up like you and still drink so many shots! You beat everyone in the contest, mate! It was impressive," Liam cheered, pulling off his hat to fix his hair.

Harry took the ball from Liam, grimacing slightly. "I don't even remember being in a drinking contest. But, I definitely remember the puking. That was so embarrassing," he mumbled, "I don't really drink so when I do, I pretty much black out." He forced a laugh, mentally punching himself for entering a shots contest. Who did he think he was, a frat boy?

"It's okay. I don't really remember anything after I left either," Liam replied light heartedly, grabbing the ball back from Harry with a playful smile.

"I guess my hangover confirms it all though, definitely a reminder I can't miss," Harry mumbled, still reeling.

Luke patted Harry on the back. "Don't worry, it'll feel better soon-"

Before the blonde could finish his conciliatory sentence, a loud and angry voice yelled out to the team. "This is baseball practice, not a tea party! Get to work now! Tomlinson, control your team!"

Harry turned around quickly, seeing a tall man with a wide frame watching them all from the first row of stadium seats overlooking the field. He had grayish hair and a hard expression, wearing a white shirt that accentuated the black whistle dangling from his neck. Harry recognized him to be the team's coach, he looked even scarier in person.

Louis came sprinting out of the dugout, flying across the field with a few other boys following closely behind. "You all heard Cowell, let's go. Set it up," Louis yelled sternly, slapping his glove.

The whole team seemed to know exactly what this meant, each of them running off to wherever they were supposed to be. But, Harry? He had no idea what he was doing. So while all of the other players started to set up their drill, Harry stood there looking confused as he prayed for some assistance.