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Lace Up
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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing2h 4m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Dec 19, 2016
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Fanfic
1Direction
"Swing Styles!" coach's voice rumbled throughout the gym. "I'm not hitting a girl, coach." When given the okay, I took a step forward, extending my arm swiftly and connected it with Harry's jaw. He stumbled back slightly but regained his balance and raised his sarcastic brow as if asking me if I knew what I had just done. "You might not hit a girl but I will," I teased, "Step in the ring princess." "Well then," he swiped his jaw from the impact, "I apologize in advance for whatever is to come, princess.". and then coach blew his whistle.
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W.G I walked toward the girls' bathroom, trying to ignore the weight of my bag and the ache in my shoulders. That's when I saw him. Him. He wasn't smiling. Not that it would've mattered. He leaned against the wall, effortless and impossible to ignore. Another girl was in front of him, talking too much, laughing too loud, desperate for his attention. He nodded at her words, listening without a hint of amusement-cold, calculated. Then his eyes landed on me. Green, sharp, dangerous. He smirked. Just a little, but enough. Enough to make the blood in my veins run colder. The kind of smirk that promised he saw everything-everything I was thinking, everything I was hiding. I stiffened. Fingers tightening around my bag strap. I didn't want to look at him, didn't want to acknowledge him. But he had already claimed the moment, made his presence known, and the corner of his mouth that lifted into that smirk said one thing clearly: he knew. And he was enjoying it.

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