“What do you think, Nialler?” Louis whispered under his breath.
Niall bit his bottom lip and tilted his head toward Louis. They turned to exchange glances.
They were checking out the three remaining boys. Two of them, Stan Atkinson and Jimmy Selley, were staring glumly at the ground, nervously shifting their feet, glancing up at the two groups of boys who had already been sorted. The other boys were dribbling, drilling the soccer balls back and forth, chatting loudly and laughing.
Neither Louis nor Niall knew the last kid. He must be new to the school. He was awkwardly gangly—although not tall exactly— just moving like a puppet adjusting to new limbs. His face was obscured by a jumble of curls, held down by a gray heather beanie, the ends flustered by the wind. Despite being one of the last boys left, he wasn't paying attention to Louis or the other captain at all.
Who is this dude? Louis thought. Who wears a beanie to soccer practice?
The kid threw a ball into the air and attempted to head it. The ball landed squarely on his face. He doubled over and rubbed his face in pain.
“Not that one,” Niall said in a loud whisper.
“No kidding,” answered Louis, with a curt laugh. Louis had been playing soccer since he was five. He was captain of the school team. He could see a player who needed carrying a mile away.
He turned toward the other captain, Nick. “We’ll take Stan.”
“Jimmy,” Nick barked without hesitation.
Stan and Jimmy shuffled to their respective sides, happy not to be the last person picked. Someone on Louis’ team high-fived Stan with both hands. Stan ran into the huddle and kicked a free soccer ball.
“Crap,” Louis whispered to Niall. “We’re stuck with Wonderwall over there.”
The boy hadn’t seemed to notice the team selection process was over. He was still rubbing his eyes.
Niall called out to him, “Excuse me!—yeah, you, dude. You’re on our team.”
“I am?” He turned in surprise. He began to amble toward them. “Cool.”
Was that a hint of a British accent?
“I'm Louis, and this is Niall.” Louis waved his hand. “What's your name?”
“I'm Harry,” he said. “Harry Styles.” His voice was high, raspy, and laced with unnecessary happiness. His eyes captured the intense green of the pitch. “Ready to play some football?”
He was British. Louis internally rolled his eyes.
It was already horrible that people of varying athletic abilities were lumped together in seventh grade phys ed class. Louis loved soccer, and he loved playing with friends like Niall, who knew soccer. They had been playing together on the travel team for three years now, where Louis was also captain.
He had promised his coach to be on best behavior, but he was sure that this Harry Styles, whoever he was, was a menace. Harry was going to be such a disaster, so inept, Louis thought, that he would end up hurting Louis more than he hurt himself.
Well.
He wasn't wrong.
//
YOU ARE READING
Galileo - l.s
Fanfiction"Dangerous? Not haute?" Harry mused. "Why not haute?" "'Course you're haute, babe," Louis smiled. He reached out to fix a stray curl that had dropped down onto Harry's forehead. Harry stared at him with a dimpled smile, and Louis reared his head bac...
