Find You There (Fanfic Version)

Four

"Hey, stranger," he says, smiling with deep dimples showing on his cheeks. Well, he maintained the haircut rule, but unfortunately, with all the sweat, his hair looks greasy.

I blink, slightly perplexed. For all I thought, he easily forgets people so I didn't expect him to remember me, much less the little joke on the bridge.

More than one month, he hasn't spoken to me at all. What makes this day different?

"Pass, please?" He asks, pointing to the ball. Not to attract awful thoughts but the way he said it was actually cute. He sounds like a kid.

I planned on kicking it, I really did since I know the basics about it. But instead I pick it up and walk towards him, not minding the dirt along with it.

He seems a little confused as to why I did that. Maybe he was just counting on me to kick it and run.

"Why does the daredevil spend time alone for hours here?" I ask as I walk towards him. I've been curious but now is the only chance I've gotten.

He takes the ball from my hand, "I'm not alone, you're always here too."

"And within that month this is the only time we've actually talked," I comment, my eyes easily dart to his chest where his necklace hangs. The one I've noticed at the bridge and under fair lighting, it's actually very beautiful.

"I'm not a good conversation starter," he replies. "Thank you." He lays the ball on the ground.

I debate in my head whether I believe he's not a good conversation starter or not. For one, he's told me that he's not a people person but. . . how is that even possible? He's the freaking daredevil. You don't have too much adventures without the people skills to do it.

He starts kicking very lightly and starts keeping his distance from me yet I don't really have the will to go home just yet.

"Why do you practice a lot?" I ask, it doesn't make much sense for him to do it anyways.

"What?" He asks, facing me for a second and then turning away.

I roll my eyes, "Why do you practice a lot?" I ask again.

"I love football," he answers.

It takes me a second to remember that football is their term for soccer. So it takes me another second before I reply. . .

"Seniors almost never make it to the team," I tell him. Not to burst his bubble or anything but someone's got to tell him. "And by the way, tryouts were over two weeks ago, not that you could tryout."

I know I'm sounding mean, but that's me and I can't get it out of my system.

"I know," he answers, looking for a second and then turning away, paying more attention on the ball. "Uh, Denmark told me."

"Oh, him," I mumble.

He stops playing for a moment and then looks at me. "Do you know him?"

I almost laugh except that I know he doesn't know the tiny little detail of Denmark being my boyfriend.

"Y-Yeah, I know him," I reply with a blank face. "What did he tell you?"

"No tryouts for seniors," he answers.

"Has he seen you play?" I ask, now seemingly I'm the one who is really interested in the conversation but I'm only trying to help.

Harry smiles and shakes his head, "Not really."

"Shouldn't you consider trying?" I ask though I know the idea seems ridiculous.

"Why should I?" He asks back. "You've said it yourself, no senior makes it to the team. Why then?"