We Don't Touch, We Collide

“Are you coming or not, you twat?” I ask into my phone as I round the corner of the bleachers of the stadium.

“Well considering I’m still on crutches, probably not,” Niall responds.

I see Louis across the pitch and it instantly brings a smile to my face as he kicks the football into the goal.

“H, you still there?” I hear Niall's voice.

“Yeah, alright, well you don’t have to come, it’s okay,” I say.

“So, what are you two going to do? Ya know with being seen and such,” he asks.

“Um, well we've been staying at my mum’s place and not going out or anything so. He’s got the footie stuff to do, but I’ve been at home since I’ve been back from LA,” I say, kicking at some dirt with my boot.

“Oh alright then, well I've gotta go see some guys about some pints,” he says.

I smile.

“Of course you do, Nialler,” I say, laughing.

We hang up a few seconds later and when I look up Louis is making his way over to me. I push my phone into my pocket and take in his outfit: black Vans, skin tight black jeans, dark red shirt and grey beanie pulled down over his hair. I had to leave early this morning and go to London so I was only able to press a kiss to his forehead as he slept before I left.

“Hi,” he chirps when he gets close enough.

It startles me a bit and I shake out of my daydream of him sprawled out naked on my childhood bed.

“Um, hey,” I say, smiling.

He’s standing right in front of me now, looking up at me. He puts his hand on my chest, fisting my shirt in his hand as he smiles and tugs me closer, leaning up on his tippy toes to press his lips to mine. I wrap my hands around his small waist and pull him closer just because I could and mostly because I hadn't kissed him properly since last night.

I open my eyes after a few seconds and pull away when I see Louis’ coach, Paul, walking towards us. Louis obviously hears him because he turns around and I remove my hands from his waist as be backs up.

“Louis, fifteen minute break and then a couple of shuttle sprints, yeah,” Paul says.

“Yep,” Louis says before looking back at me before Paul walks towards the locker rooms.

“He says my fitness is atrocious,” Louis says, laughing.

“It probably is,” I shrug.

“Arsehole. Yours isn't any better,” he says.

“I’m not playing a big game in a couple of weeks, am I?" I ask.

“No, but still,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I reach down for his hand and pull him into me.

“Don’t pout,” I say, pressing my thumb against his bottom lip.

I lean down and press my lips to his before pulling back and pulling him up the steps to sit in the stands.

“So, what else do you have to do to prepare or whatever?” I ask.

“Well, other than the shuttle sprints, he wants me to work a bit on my movement and just tone my muscles up a bit,” he shrugs.

I nod and he looks up at me.

“What’re you smiling about?” he asks.

“You tell him I help you out with toning up your muscles almost every night?” I ask, smirking and he slaps my shoulder.