One of Those People *On Hold*

~Chapter 7 - Brady Hilligon~

(Unedited) 

I remember Sarah had track practice, as I threw my backpack in the back of my car. Instead of heading for home, I decide to stay and watch. Why not? What was the worst that could happen? Another fight?

With that thought in mind, I immediately headed to bleachers where the other students were hanging around. That's when I see Sarah finishing her stretches. Her butt pushed out as she bent down to touch her toes while she spoke to one of her teammates before heading to the starting line for their first practice race.

I sit wondering what I should do? Cheer? Wave?

She and I are fighting a lot and I do not know where we stand. But as I watched her run, her toned thighs skidding past one another as her sports bra struggled to hold its contents I decided that I did not want to fight anymore.

As practice lets out, I meet her by the bleachers, as I wonder what to say. Good job or some kind of praise would be great, she likes it when I praise her.

"You were great out there," I tell her as I finally win over the words that had been weighing on my mind.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Sarah tells me with a weak smile, though I am not sure if the smile is forced or not. I also notice that she seems to be happier today for some reason; versus last night at the movies. I don't bother asking why. I am going to take what I could get.

"Look; about last night," I begin to tell her, knowing that bringing up something that had previously sparked an argument was fuel to tan an already raring fire.

"Don't ruin the moment. I don't want to talk about it or fight anymore," Sarah sets forth as I adjust my glasses when they start to slide off the bridge of my nose. Her eyes meet mine; showing me that she's serious about this, as my mind exclaims to me it's a trap.

"Okay," I tell Sarah as I wrap myself around her playing with the hair on the nape of her neck. Curling the stray hairs around my finger like I used to do when we started dating. I remember that she hated it when I did it I quickly stopped.

"So second place huh, that's great!" I say trying to overcome the lull in the conversation.

"Second place in hurdles is good, but I could do better. Second place is not going to get me a scholarship into university." Sarah states. I am very aware that this friendly conversation can change at any moment. Her eyes looking out over the track field, searching for something and when she came up empty-handed her gaze returned to me.

"I don't know how track works, but I'm sure you will earn your way into a scholarship," I tell her.

"That's not really how it works. It's not something you earn; you have to be good at it. Like the Flash is at saving people or Superman is at flying. Superman did not just fly one day, he had to work on it constantly until he could do it and do it well," She declares me as though she knew what I had been thinking.

"So basically coming first in track is your version of defeating the Demogorgon at the end of Dungeons and Dragons?" I joke but instead of laughing, she looks at me confused. The breeze picking up which sends a chill over my body. I attempt to take her hand but she just leaves it laying on the bench between us as though she's still deciding on whether she wants to take it or not.

"That made no sense, but I'm going to say it's like that. Except in track, each meet, each practice, it's your mission to run faster, work harder and maybe one day you can be in the Olympics," Sarah tells me as she looks out onto the athletic field again leaving me to wonder what she's thinking.

"Maybe I should come to see you in a real race?" I tell her, "You know before you get to the Olympics and forget about me." I added more as a joke but it did not sound as funny out loud. It just sounded sad.

"I'm not saying I'm going to the Olympics. I'm just telling you how track works. You have more than one category and you get graded by every official watching you." Sarah voices as though she had wanted to say something else but chooses not to. "Anyways, I have some studying to do. There's a big test in lab tomorrow and you know I suck at lab!"

"Sarah, you really did well today, I mean it," I tell her as she starts to stand up.

"Yeah, thanks." She gave a tight-lipped smile before walking away without even so much as a kiss goodbye. Not knowing what to do with myself I just continue to sit here thinking.

I keep asking myself questions and per usual I only end up with more questions than answers.

That is when I noticed him. I watch as his feet leapt forward, one after the other as he zooms like Flash Gordon down the track. His arms like lightning bolts beside his body as they cut through the air. That is when I saw Art, completely lost in his world which was speeding by every other guy on the track field as he tried out for the team.

Art finishes first as he struggles to catch his breath, the coach gobsmacked as he pulled him over to inform him that he had made the team. He did not seem surprised, but by the way he ran, it was easy to see that he was not new to track. The way his lean legs navigated his lined-space like he owns it.

It is not long until he spots me on the bleachers watching me as he flashes me that signature sarcastic smirk before making his way over.

"I didn't even know you ran," I tell him as soon as he is within earshot distance of me as I watch the other athletes leaving the field in a tight-knit group. Instead of giving me an answer he gives me a nod.

"You must like running, huh? You're super good at it!" I praise him as I walked down from the bleachers, meeting up with him at the steps. "Like Flash Gordon," I add, remembering his very little knowledge of the comic book characters I followed it with. "He's a space hero, although he was a football player and you're a runner."

"Know what I realized?" I ask.

He put a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger while placing it on his bottom lip before lighting it up. The smooth flow of his action made me become more enticed by every time he did it, "What?" He waved his occupied fingers for me to continue.

"You're safe if the aliens attack." I realised after having watched him run, "You're good at running, it's like your superhuman power," I finished, realising that I had said too much.

"Thanks, I guess," Art voices unsure as he drags in another lung full of smoke while he adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. He has that look that told me he had something to say but decided against it. The rest of our walk passed us by in silence before we reached my car.

"Can I have a ride?" Art inquires as he waits for my approval. I ponder over it, though I know I don't need to. I know I'll say yes and so does he but those two silent seconds were like a game between us, a little inside joke, as I tap my chin in thought. The answer to his question came to fruition as I got into the car leaning over the passenger seat to unlock the door.

"Thanks," he appraises me mostly for my benefit. He once again gets into my car and places his backpack in the backseat as I switch the radio onto some roller rink pop station.

Cue him scoffing, "If only your superpower was better taste in music." Art offered mockingly not missing the way his lips quirked up at me.