𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓! | harry styles

𝐈𝐕

EVELYN showed me her phone once. She had me listed as ProFitness, the gym in town. She thought it was hilarious. I've sent a text but she's surrounded by the cheer team, and I hope she hasn't done something dumb like change it to Harry or Coach. She's had two phones in the last three months, always forgetting she puts it in her back pocket only to smash the screen when she plops herself down on hard surfaces.

She reaches for that back pocket now and smiles, but doesn't open it. She will later, when she's alone and not about to change into her practice sweats. She follows the rest of the girls, laughing and talking way too loud like teenage girls do, into the locker rooms.

"Harry!" I hear coming from behind me, the boys locker room door opening and shutting quickly as players make their way to the field.

"Who?"

Big dramatic sigh. "Coach," Josh rolls his eyes at me.

"What is it, Josh?"

"Dad wants us to go over crossing routes today."

I don't say anything for half a minute, my lips drawn tight as I stare at my brother. "He's coming today, isn't he?"

"I told him he didn't have to, but you know..."

My hand runs through my hair in frustration, and I slap the clipboard against the cinder block. "Not your fault, Josh."

"It might not be so bad, I mean, he was a college coach, you know? And I need that scholarship."

"Of course, Josh. We all want that. Go get on the field." Josh just kind of nods his head before the sound of his cleats shuffle away. It's not his fault he wasn't there for most of it, being ten years younger than me. He was more interested in playing Nintendo when I tore my ACL, taking all hope from our father that I'd become a college superstar.

And in turn, taking less interest in me.

Practice goes on, my father on the sidelines but more involved than he should be, calling out over my plays and coaching above and beyond me. I let it happen, 'cause you know, he turned down the Packers. We all make allowances for that.

* * *

"I want my own theme song."

My hand makes a pass over the white shirt covering my stomach, rippling with a laugh as I lay back, looking up at her standing above me. "What the fuck are you talking about?

"You know, like in a cartoon." She makes a weird duck walk, her elbows bent as her knees buckle.

I roll halfway on my side, and cover my eyes, groaning in amusement before looking back up at her. "You are so fucked up."

Those red lips open in disbelief, her eyebrows quirk, her small hands rest on her hips, all of her parts kissable. "It would be like when I'm walking down the street or entering a room. Very dramatic." Her hands splay out over her head, "You'd know I'm there."

My elbow feels the hardness of the ground beneath me as I half sit, my eyes moving down her body and settling on her bare ankles. "If you had a theme song, it would be more like a sexy stripper act..." And I start to hum cliché music. It's totally ridiculous, and she falls down on the grass, missing the red blanket she grabbed out of my truck by inches.