Addicted To You .L.S.

Twenty Nine.

Three Years Ago
(Fourteen Years Old)

"We are so late," Aaron says, grabbing his football bag out of his mums car. Amber jumps out from the back, running of to join the girls.
Harry glares at him, pulling the walker out of the backstreet and unfolding it for me. "Chill out," he says sharply.
"Couch is gonna kick our butt. We have to warm up."
I nudge Harry. "Go, I can get to the bleachers by myself."
"No," he replies.
"Aaron, go," I tell him. I don't want him to be pisses at me for making him late. He hadn't even wanted me to come, but Harry insisted. Aaron nods, taking Harry's bag with him.
"I've got it," I insist when Harry doesn't go with him. Harry looks over his shoulder. The boys are already on the field; he'll get in trouble if he doesn't hurry. "Hey!" He shouts, waving across the lot. "Adam! Kylie!"
"Harry—"
"If you want me to go, then you let Kylie and Adam help you," he says to me.

I roll my eyes and grab the handles of the walker, heaving myself up, leaning on it. The doctors are making me use it an extra month before I can switch to the cane. I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to a cane, but I am. Kylie and Adam come over, and once's Harry's reassured the won't let me fall off the bleachers, he tears off towards the field.
Kylie looms over me. Her jeans are an inch to short—she already taller than all the other girls, which is an advantage for when she plays football. She keeps her hand hovering behind my back during the tortuous moments getting to the bleachers, like she's afraid I'm going to pitch over at any minute.

"Where's your dad today?" Adam asks as I sit on the bottom bleacher. "Uncle Robs short a coach."
"Emergency work thing," I say.
"Oh cool," Kylie says.
"I guess so. You guys can sit at the top, if you want. I'm fine here on my own."
"Better view from here," Kylie says with a grin.
It makes me smile back. I dig into my bag, coming up with a bag of M&Ms and we pass it back and fourth as we turn our attention to the soccer field.

The guys are getting ready to start, warming up on the side of the field. Harry's dark, curly hair is pushed back as he touches his forehead to pull it into a tight ponytail.
"Aren't you helping Coach out?" Kylie asks.
In a sec," Adam says. "He doesn't need me until they start."
Kylie's eyes stay on Harry, watching him stretch reaching up, up, up, like he can reach the sky. He's the smallest on the team—but when he's on the field, it's like he's ten feet tall, full of strength and speed.

"Your getting good moving around." Adam says, pulling his baseball cap off, sticking it in his back pocket.
"Almost ready for a cane," I say. "Go me."
"Hey." Kylie frowns. "You should be proud. Harry says you work hard at physical therapy."
"Is that what Harry says, Kylie?" Adam says, and he grins at me conspiratorially as Kylie's face reddens.
"Your parents bugging you about college yet?" Kylie asks, like she's desperate to change the subject.
"There making noises. But it's kinda early."
"Maybe for you," Adam says. I've gotta start thinking about scholarships, I can't go anywhere without help. And I'm not gonna get any prizes with my grades."
Kylie laughs. "Hell no," she says. "You're gonna get one for best goalie anyone's ever seen.
Adam grins, standing up. The boys start to gather in the field. Our teams blue, the opposing teams red. "Well, here's hoping. I don't wanna be stuck here forever. I should get down there before Uncle Rob gets too pissed. See you later, Lou."

With Adam gone, Kylie and I turn back to the field, our attention glued to Harry like a magnet on metal.
The teams lining up for a kick off, Aaron says something that makes Harry toss his head back and laugh, curls bobbing against the grey sky. He play-pushes Aaron, who pushes him back, laughing too.  I watch Kylie out of the corner of my eye. "You really like him, don't you?"
She jerks, the top of her ears turning red. She doesn't meet my eye, but looks down at her hands, digging into her jeans. "Is it that obvious?"
"Kind of."
She laughs. "Way to make a girl feel better."
I shrug. I don't say what I'm thinking. I don't tell her how lucky she is, that she can just sit there and admit it, sheepish, but unashamed. Like it's her right. Like it's okay, because he's supposed to belong to someone like her, instead of someone like me.