The Writer (AU)

Chapter Five-

I couldn't seem to think straight. Through school, it was like I could've been hit by a train and not have noticed.

"Señorita Adams?" Mrs. Hunter called.

"Um, yes?" I stammered, blinking a few times.

"Your answer?"

"What was the question again? I'm sorry."

"Perhaps if you weren't so busy staring at Señor Styles, you'd have been paying attention." Everyone in the class laughed and I couldn't help but blush.

"Lo siento, señora."

"Esta bien. Just pay attention next time," she smiled before continuing on with class. Scribbling random sentences on my paper, I gave it to her as the bell rang and almost sprinted toward my car. Taking a nervous deep breath as I drove, I tried to keep the continuous nauseating feeling I had down.

"Okay," I sighed as I pulled up at the gym and walked inside.

"Hey Ellie. How we doin'?" Collins asked, peeking his head around the door of the office.

"Great. How are you?" Nothing but lies.

"I'm good."

"Cool."

"We'll get started in a few minutes."

"Okay." Sitting on the hardwood floor and changing into my basketball shoes, I slowly pulled them on and tied them. Closing my eyes as I heard the door open, I stood and jogged to get some water.

"Hey, Collins. What's up?" Harry's deep, resonant voice filled the gym. On the outside, I tried to remain calm and collected as I started my workout.

"It's hot as crap in here," I groaned.

"Hot gyms make champions if I remember correctly. A wise girl once told me that," Collins teased, passing me the ball as I felt sweat trickle down my back.

"Yeah yeah." My breathing heavied and I began to sound like a dying hippo.

"Shoot ten free throws and then you're good to go." Taking a deep breath, I tried to shoot as quickly as I could.

"You ready to be schooled?" Harry teased as soon as I finished.

"You ready to get beat by a girl?" I countered, arching an eyebrow. I was faking it until I could make it.

"We'll see about that. First, you need to work on your shot. You have a hitch."

"Okay."

"You have perfect form, but you need to keep your elbow straight and follow through more," he said, getting ready to shoot.

"Okay."

"When you shoot," he shot, keeping his elbow in. "Extend your arm all the way up and bend your wrist like it's broken. It'll go in every time." Rebounding the ball, I stood at the elbow and held the ball like I was going to shoot and felt his warm, sweaty hands touch my arm, adjusting it. His touch was electric and I couldn't seem to focus.

"Ready?" he asked, moving to stand behind me, shirtless nonetheless.

"Y-yeah," I nodded, clearing my throat. "Yeah." He chuckled as he moved with me and I let the ball go. It actually went in. Holy shit.

"Try it without me," he beamed. I didn't want to.

"Okay." Catching the ball from him, I used the exact same form, and in again it went.

"Again," he nodded. I lost count after 75 shots.

"You're almost at two hundred. You've got two more." My arms were burning.

"Two more?" I groaned.

"C'mon. If you make these two, I'll do thirty push-ups."

"Fine," I snapped, secretly wanting to see him do the push-ups. Shooting, I made the first one. Taking a deep breath, in the second one went.

"That's thirty push-ups, Styles. Let's go," I smirked.

"That was luck," he laughed and bent down. Watching the muscles in his arms and back move, I heard him grunt a little before he finally finished. He finally stood, wiping his hands on his shorts and walking toward me.

"First one to ten wins." One on one? With him?

"Deal," I snapped. I was scared shitless.

"Just because I'm a gentleman, you have ball first." Taking the ball in my hands, I began to dribble as Harry got in his defensive stance and stared at me intently. Jabbing to my right, he stayed.

"You can't fake me that easy, love." Wanting to wipe the smug grin off his face, I took three dribbles to the right, spun, and finished with my left hand.

"One- zero," I beamed. Attempting to pull the same move, he blocked my shot.

"One-one," he smiled, walking to the three point line. "It's okay. I'm a little taller than you." He was trying to piss me off. Watching him dribble, he shot faked, jabbed right and drove with his left hand.

"Easy as taking candy from a baby." Angrily bouncing the ball to him, I waited for his next move. As he drove to the basket, I jabbed my elbow into his torso and jumped to block his attempted layup. It still went in. For the next few plays, I could see Harry enjoying how angry I was getting.

"It's game point, babe and you're down by four. What do I get for winning?" he teased.

"My foot up your ass."

"Don't think that's quite what I'm looking for."

"How about I don't punch you?" He was testing me and I was letting him.

"Aw c'mon, Ellie. Don't I get something a little more girly?" he gushed. "How about since I'm gonna win, you go to dinner with me."

"No."

"You take me to dinner? I'll even let you pay."

"No," I snapped angrily. Why the hell would I want to go to dinner with him?

"Fine." He began to dribble and I'd never played so hard in my life. He pulled up to shoot and I jumped to block it.

"My ball, Styles!" I screamed as it hit the bleachers. "You scared I'm gonna win?"

"I know you won't."

"If I win, you leave me alone. For good."

"Fine, but if I win, dinner at Larkin's tomorrow night."

"You're on." Long story short, he won.

"Well, I'll pick you up at eight. Wear something without a Nike check," Harry beamed before walking out of the gym. Screaming in frustration, I threw the ball across the court, hoping I could find something cute enough to wear.