You're a gymnast/cheerleader.
Harry: He stands with his head cocked to the side, his brows furrowed as he watches you stretch. Harry hadn't been to any of your competitions or practices due to his own busy schedule and from his expressions, it sure was hard to tell whether or not he was confused or impressed, hopefully the latter. You take off, tumbling across the mat, throwing in a few flips here and there before bringing yourself back to where you left your boyfriend standing. Laughing at his agape mouth, his expression full of amazement, you can't help but feel good about yourself. "Might wanna pick up your jaw, Styles," you say, bringing him back to reality. "How do you even do that?" he asks, his voice high on the last few words, his impression evident. "Years and years of practice," you giggle as he brings his arms around you, kissing your forehead. "Well, you'll win for sure, baby girl."
Zayn: "Zayn? You home?" your voice echos through his flat. Walking into the kitchen you flip on a light before setting down your purse on the counter. "Zayn?" you say again, listening. "In here, love!" you finally hear. Following the sound of his voice, you find him in the living room, seated on the couch with an old video recording playing on the television. Squinting against the brightness of the screen in the dark room, you notice yourself on the screen, a few years younger, doing the splits at a cheer competition. "Where did you get that?" you ask, standing just feet away from him. "Your mum brought some of your old stuff by earlier, over there in that box," he points behind him. "This was in there; I just wanted to see what it was." He grinned, a mysterious look in his eye as he stood, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. "Are you, uh, still that flexible?" he asks, his hot breath tickling your skin. With a smirk, you peck his lips once, before taking his hand, "I don't know. Why don't we go see?"
Louis: "Pft, I can do that!" he scoffs whilst watching you mess around, turning flips, doing back bends, just anything to keep yourself from being bored. "Oh yeah, sassy pants? Then show me," you laugh, watching him struggle to even do a forth of what you could manage, a smirk on his face. "See? Told you." You shake your head, "No, Lou. Don't think that's quite right. But for the record, it did take me more than a few seconds to get everything right." He pouts, looking up at you from his place on the ground. "Are you saying that was awful?" You only nod, barely having time to run away before he comes after you.
Niall: Trying to ignore his pleads for you to show off to his friends, you try forcing yourself across the park, much to his protests. Only recently had he discovered you were a gymnast when you'd let slip that you had a competition one weekend. Not that you'd minded him knowing, but you knew exactly how this would be, him wanting to tell everyone and show you off every chance he got, much like now. "Princess, just show them something, please!" he begs, catching hold of your arm. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips as you turn, crossing your arms over your chest. "If I do a few tricks on those rings at the swings will you please stop?" you ask. He nods eagerly, a smile big enough to take up his entire face appearing as he takes your hand to pull you back to his group of friends.
Liam: He was trying to help you actually. Although, you had to agree, it was probably more out of his own enjoyment than your own as he helped you stretch out your legs. Typically you'd have to swat his hands away a few times when they began to roam. "Liam, stop, I need to warm up," you'd say and he'd chuckle. "Sorry, babe, just can't help myself."
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