“You look nice.”
I reach the end of the sidewalk and meet Harry, a grin on his face and a soccer ball under his arm. I glance down at my outfit: a pair of jet-black jeans and combat boots, a plain beige t-shirt underneath my jacket in order to stay neutral. I wasn’t sure if my new job had a work uniform or not so I’d decided to play it safe this morning when getting dressed. Besides, I only have about four outfits in my closet total. My brown hair falls in random, natural waves just past my shoulders, strands blowing in the wind.
I frown, “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me in these pants before, Harry,” I declare, shifting my worn, brown purse more securely on my shoulder.
He shrugs, “Still nice, nonetheless.”
We make an unspoken agreement to start walking, striding beside each other in sync. Harry eventually tosses the soccer ball in front of him, kicking it skillfully as we go.
“What’s with the soccer ball?”
“It’s a football,” he corrects and I mentally curse myself for forgetting about his English background, “I use it to stay nimble, keep the feet going.”
He passes the ball to me and I try to keep up with him. He’s right; it does make your feet work.
“So, did you have a busy night last night?” I ask, sticking my tongue out as I try to perform a trick involving my heels. I fail miserably and the ball surges behind us.
“You mean, like, on the streets?” he says in code, running back to pick up the ball.
I stop to wait for him, “Yeah. Was it still quiet?”
Harry pauses before booting the ball forwards again, jogging past me a little to contain it, “Basically. Like that one Christmas tale says, ‘Not a creature was stirring, not even a devout criminal.’”
“I don’t think that’s how it goes.”
“Close enough,” he concludes before turning to give me a wide grin. I can’t help but reciprocate, our eyes locking. His smile disappears, a more serious emotion taking over his features. Suddenly, he loses his footing, stepping clumsily onto the ball. He nearly topples over but I grab onto his forearm and use all my strength to keep him upright.
“Thanks,” he says with a nervous laugh. He steadies himself and I let go, “Got a little distracted.”
I try to ignore the fact that Harry lost his footing because we were too busy staring at each other.
“No worries.”
All of a sudden, he smacks a hand to his forehead and I’m worried that he’s gone insane until he says, “How insensitive of me. I forgot to ask how you were feeling.”
“No need to hit yourself over it,” I laugh.
“But it matters. How are you feeling, Alexa?”
“You’re so weird,” I mumble under my breath. Harry catches it though and gives me a wide grin with his eyes squinted. I sigh, “Well, I’m alright. My face still hurts but I can see out of my left eye again. That’s progress. Although, the amount of makeup I had to put on today in order to hide everything was a little atrocious.”
We turn a corner down a main road, cars whizzing by creating mini tornadoes of air that sweep through my hair and clothes. Harry frowns before picking up the football to ensure it won’t roll onto the street. He bumps me gently with his shoulder.
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, I think you look rugged and tough with those bruises. Like a WWE fighter.”
I snort, “Perfect, that’s exactly what I was going for.”
YOU ARE READING
Heroism (h.s.)
Fanfiction"A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself." - Joseph Churchill. After a frightening incident on her way home from work, Alexa Mackie is left with more questions than answers. A mysterious stranger in black sa...
