Wonderwall

Chapter 3

My shoes begin to sink into the moist grass. Whistles were heard as I take a seat on the hard metal bleachers.

Today was Friday, and right now Jackson's practicing for their championship game on Monday. Our school takes sports very seriously. On sporting events all of the students gather into the gym, pool deck, or fields to cheer on our team.

I was never athletic. I run sometimes, to shake something's off, and just to have some me time. I'm a pretty good runner. Sure I'm small and skinny but I do have some muscle that gives me a bit of an advantage. But I would never think to run at a competitive level.

I sit and watch Jackson run down the grassy field. The sun reflecting perfectly off of his red helmet. I love watching him play football. He gets competitive, and it's attractive. Whenever he gets points he usually points out to me and blows a kiss. Such a romantic! Who can forget about the football pants though. Tight and form fitting. They make every guy look good. But of coarse I wouldn't be paying attention to them.

A breeze brushes across my bare legs. I stand up and begin to climb to the top of the metal bleachers. They're still a little wet due to the rain from last night. I almost loose my balance a few times, me feet slipping off here and there. I brace myself and grab the edge railing, to examine my whereabouts.

Beckham high is in the middle of no where. Yes, we're still in Chicago, but our school is surrounded by forest and greenery. Most wealthy people live around here, where they can have privacy and a bigger yard.

I watch as two boys kick a small soccer ball back and forth on the soccer fields. There aren't any practises going on. But they must be here for fun.

The one in net bounces on his tip toes, getting ready for the patterned ball to be hurdled towards him. "Hurry up!!" He yells to his friend. The other boy skillfully bounces the off his knee, than head. Before rolling it down his own back and popping it up with his foot, booting it towards the net.

I stand there flabbergasted as I watch the goalie dive to save the ball from its entrance but he fails, and ends up with his face in the dirt. A laugh falls from my mouth as the other boy jumps up and down, laughing at his friend.

Curls bounce from his forehead, before his hand sweeps up and pushes them back. It's Harry.. I wasn't expecting Harry to be here early on a Friday morning. Usually him and his click are are late, coming in the middle of first period.

"Lou! Your terrible!" He shouts to Louis as he gets up and wipes the dirt off his shirt.

"Aye man! I'm not good in net! I told ya earlier!" He swats Harry in the arm, Harry defensively raises his hands and punches back. I barely noticed I was staring, until they did. Harry's bright green eyes burned into mine with an unknown emotion.

Panic crashes upon me like a tidal wave. I quickly turn around, making it seem as if I wasn't looking in the first place. Last thing I want is to talk to him, or to make him think that I am some obsessed girl. Cause that's defiantly not what I am.

"You just love staring at me don't you?" I practically slip off the bleaches in shock. Harry stands a row below me with the ball in hand. He's wearing black athletic shorts that cling to his waist with ease. A white tee is worn, revealing the many tattoos on his neck and arms, plus the ones seen through the shirt.

"You wish." I scoff. I turning away like some snobby girl he probably thinks I am. I almost want to apologize. I literally want to rip the head off a someone when girls act like that.

"Squares got some sass!" He chuckles as he steps to the left, moving himself so I'm forced to make eye contact. I roll my eyes in attempt to reveal my annoyance for him, but I think I'm over doing it.