"Mia! Get your head in the game!" My coach, Dean, yells at me. Normally I would have giggled at his accidental quoting of High School Musical but I had no time to.
Megan is dribbling the football towards me and behind her; three massively tall girls from the other team are speeding across the field.
"Mia!" Megan yells and boots the ball to me. It shoots past and I sprint after it. Pumping my arms and legs. I dribble the ball towards the goals. I can feel the wet mud, from lasts night's rain, kick up to splatter my bare legs.
I kick the ball and send it flying into the goalie's arms. A miss.
I sigh and drop back, settling back into a walk. My chest is heaving as I pant. The goalie throws the ball over her head to her team mate and the game starts again.
As I head back to my position, mind wanders back to Harry. His lips, his curls, his green eyes. I groan and tilt my head back, fuck, his eyes.
The way they stared deeply into mine, filled with raw lust. But I know it must have been my imagination- no boy would ever look at me like that. But it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to imagine that they would.
A girl on the other team looks at me strangely as I swing my arms around in a big circle, wrapping loosely around my body before I swing them back in the other direction. I'm so used to getting weird looks from strangers that I barely notice them anymore.
I had another late night last night. After being on the phone to Emma for over two hours, explaining every detail of Harry that I remembered. She asked questions about him, she for once actuallyinterested in the boy that used to live next door, even though I've told her many times about him before.
Then after I hung up the phone, I couldn't sleep. His green eyes had haunted me the whole night. Plus the noise from the movers and their trucks kept me wide awake.
As I watch my team mates steal the ball off the other team, I brace myself ready to intercept the ball that nears closer and cl-
I cold breeze brushes against my skin and I look up. Harry is standing there on the outside of the field. He's dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt. I stare at him and he stares back, almost as if he had been doing it for a while. My heart leaps to action, pumping much faster then it did when I was sprinting earlier before.
"Mia!" Dean roars, trying to get my attention. But I can't seem to tear my eyes away from Harry's growing smirk. I watch him, my mouth slack as Harry flicks his chin at my nearing teammates.
I turn my head just as the ball is kicked towards me. I stop it with my foot and spring forward. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I am completely aware that Harry's eyes are on me. My legs speed up and I throw everything I have into this kick.
The ball shoots forward and manages to just squeeze past the goalie and into the net. Megan shouts in victory somewhere behind me, but I don't turn around to join in. I can't.
I'm running too fast and I can't seem to stop. The goalie's eyes widen just before I smack into her, landing us both in the mud, inside the net. I sit up, dazed. I hit my elbow pretty hard and my ankle is pulsing in pain. Plus I'm covered in mud.
"I'm sorry!" I gush to the goalie as she too sits up. She shakes her head and smiles, "It's alright."
"Time!" Someone yells and then they game is over.
I apologise again before Megan helps me up. We hobble towards Dean and the others, Megan is in my hear. Laughing but asking if I'm alright. Besides the fact that my ankle and elbow hurts and my face is flushed red because Harry saw all of what happened, I am fine.
"Oh God, Mia." Megan giggles as she sits me down at the bench.
Megan's a nice girl. She attends my school and is crazy about sport. Swimming, tennis, football, she's in everything. We're not exactly friends but we're nice enough to each other to be more then acquaintances.
"Mia!" Dean scolds. He on the other hand...
"Pay attention in the game and this may not happen again."
"Okay," I reply distractedly. I look to where Harry is. He's still there but he isn't looking at me. He's talking with another boy his age or maybe might be older. The boy's hair looks like he used a container full of hair gel to style it the way it is.
On the boy's hand hangs a small boy. He has hair black as night, his fringe hanging in front of his large eyes. He squirms as Harry's friend grips him tighter. Like Harry, the older boy is also good-looking.
Although I'm watching them from a distance away, I can tell the air around them is serious and tense. I keep my eye on them as Dean congratulates us on our win. We break off and I collect my bag.
I want to go up to Harry and say hello but I figure that I might be intruding on their conversation. I also am still covered in mud and may look a tad ridiculous. Reluctantly I hobble away and off the field, heading in the opposite direction of Harry, his friend and the little boy.
"Mia!" I turn around at the sound of my name being shouted. Harry smiles from a distance. I notice that the other girls on my team are looking between us, trying to figure out why an incredibly attractive boy is talking to me.
"My house! I'll see you there?" He shouts and both his friend and the little boy look at me.
"Yeah!" I yell back, my head nodding.
What? I turn around and quickly make my way back home, before Harry could yell out something else and embarrass me further. I walk and stumble on my bad ankle all the way home.
Oh how I need car. I mentally say to myself.
By the time that I make it to my front lawn, my foot is aching and I'm pretty sure there will be a bruise. I open the door, dump my bag, crawl up the stars on all fours and quickly get changed.
I brush the knots out of my ponytail and dab on some make up to cover the spots on my face. I kick off my shoes and socks. I inspect my ankle, there is a bit of bruising and no doubt there will be more later. But because I am so used to rolling ankles and tripping that I never bother to use bandages anymore.
Shoving on some of my more comfortable old converse shoes, I head out the front door calling to mum that I was visiting a friend. I walk across the dewy grass on our front yard, crossing onto Harry's property.
I ring the doorbell and wait nervously tucking my hair behind my ears. Then with a second thought, I pull my hair to one side and cross my arms. Hoping to look casual and relaxed which goes into conflict with what I'm feeling underneath.
With a click the front door unlocks. It cracks open and a halo of black hair appears behind it.
"Hello?" The little boy looks up at me with big blue eyes, his skin is so pale it looks like porcelain. I recognise him from the soccer field, up close he reminds me of an adorable doll.
I stare at the kid for a bit before I bend down, my hands on my thighs. Oh gosh, he's so cute.
"Is, uh, Harry home?" I ask unsurely, my brow furrowing. At the mention of Harry's name the boys eyes light up.
"Oh, yes!" He cries loudly, flapping his arms by his sides in a cute manner. He opens the double doors completely and gestures that I should come inside. I smile as I step inside the house.
"Lemme go find him." The little boy dashes off, leaving me standing there in an empty room. I stare after him as he races around the corner and disappears.
I walk around the foyer self consciously, my footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Unlike the last time I had been here everything is now packed away neatly. It is also incredibly clean, I can't see a speck of dirt anywhere.
As the seconds tick by I begin to grow more and more uncomfortable, I twirl my hair between my fingers mentally preparing myself to see Harry again.
I lean against the banister trying to give off a calm, collected look. I give up after a few moments of feeling like a huge twat. Sighing, I turn to look at the flight of stairs, an idea springs to mind.
I blink at the stairs and a small smile creeps onto my face. I remember the times that Harry and I rode mattresses down them. And that shiny banister, I recall how we used to slide down it, the feeling of the air swooshing past my ears.
I glance at the empty doorway. No one is there and I can still hear the muffled voices of people talking in another room of the house. My smile grows, stretching to an all-out grin.
Slowly I begin to climb the stairs, my hand sliding up the banister as I make my way up.
When I reach the top of the stairs I carefully sit onto the banister, with my legs hanging off, keeping me standing upright. I look down to the bottom floor, my stomach does little flips as I clutch the banister. It's a lot higher than I remember.
Good thing I'm not afraid of heights.
I sit up there a little longer, waiting just in case anyone walks in on me. But after a minute passes I realise that waiting is just going to increase the chances of someone catching me. So with a shaky sigh, I pick my feet up from the stair I was resting on and I let go off my grip.
I slide forward quickly, the railing moving under me. Air rushes past my ears, blowing back all the lose strands of hair out of my face. Just as I near the bottom of the stairs, Harry walks into my view from out of no where. He looks up at me in surprise, his mouth open wide and his green eyes staring.
Something in my stomach flips when my foot catches on one of the beams supporting the railing. My foot drags me back and I fall head first into Harry at the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh!" The noise escapes my lips as my body smacks into his. We fall down together, a mess of limps and arms. Harry groans next to me on the ground and I stare up at the decorative ceiling in a daze.
Then I start laughing. Giggling uncontrollably. Harry sits up and watches me writher in laughter. He grins and shakes his head, his hand flying up to the back of his scalp as if he'd hit it.
"Sorry," I manage to say through my snorts.
"What for?" Harry laughs and then stands and reaches down to help me up. I take his hand but just as he's pulling me up, I let out a help of pain.
"Ow! Crap!" My ankle that I had twisted during my football game was the same ankle that I had caught on the beam. It flares up in pain as I move it. I wince and let go of Harry's hand to drop back down.
"What's wrong?" Harry's eyes flash with worry and I blink up at him.
"Uh, my foot," I stammer, "caught it on the beam, it's the same one that I twisted at the game."
By now other people from the room are filtering in as they must of heard our collision. I look up to spot the little boy from earlier standing in front of four other older guys. I blush uncontrollably as I notice that all the other boys are extremely- extremely attractive.
They all stare down at me from where I am, a crumbled mess on the floor.
I probably look so pathetic. I think glumly.
"How badly does it hurt?" Harry asks me and I turn around to look back at him.
"It's not that bad," I say, not wanting to sound or look any more feeble then I already am in front of everyone. Without Harry's help, I stand up, wobbling a bit on my feet. I shut my eyes and bite my lip against the unrelenting ache in my ankle.
"Yes it is," Harry informs me when I open my eyes, "you're cringing." He moves beside me and wraps an arm around my waist, supporting my body.
I shock runs through me as he does so, never in my life have I ever been touched like this by a guy. Not even by my dad. I find my cheeks and neck turning red and I have to hide my face from the others who silently watch us.
"Put your arm around me," Harry rumbles in my ear, my heart jumps in response. Hesitatingly I do so, wrapping my arm behind his head and around his shoulders. I am surprised and delighted to find that underneath his white shirt, my fingers clutch onto strong corded muscles.
I seem to be in a little bit of a daze and so when Harry bends down and scoops up my legs, I let out a cry of surprise. In a flash, he is holding me bridal style against his chest. My mouth opens in protest, now I definitely look pathetic.
"Harry, put me down!" I cry as he begins walking from the foyer. My legs kick out as I try to buck out of his arms, but that just results in Harry holding me tighter.
"Stop!" I whine whilst still struggling.
"You stop. You're hurting my arms," He snaps and I glare at him.
"Well if you weren't carrying me I wouldn't be hurting your arms!" I bite back, my temper rising.
"If you weren't so clumsy, you wouldn't be in them." He retaliates and I shut up, an angry stony expression on my face. No way am I happy about this.
Harry takes me into a large living space with wide, open windows and massive couches. He places me daintily in one of them and then stands up. Over his shoulder he yells, "Max!"
The little black haired boy- Max, scurries into the room. His big blue eyes take me in and he smiles at me. Max doesn't look any older than six years and didn't come up past the height of my waist. I smile back.
"Bandages. Now." Harry orders and I scowl at him. "We also are going to need that oil. The Chinese one- and a towel."
Max nods once and dashes out. I turn back to Harry, my scowl deepening.
"What?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.
"Why don't you get the bandages?" I snap, it isn't fair that he's making Max do all the work- he's only a little kid for crying out loud!
"He knows where they are," Harry says simply, shrugging one shoulder.
"He's a child! You shouldn't be ordering him around like that!"
Harry smiles and shrugs again, this time both shoulders. "He doesn't mind." My mouth drops open and I stare at him.
"You cannot be serious."
"I am."
I decide again that it might be smart to shut my mouth and to not say anything. Harry watches me from his spot on the other side of the couch but I avoid his eyes. I manage to kick my shoes off and I barely contain a hiss when my ankle spikes in pain.
Max enters the room silently and hands Harry a mess of bandages, a small towel and an old glass bottled decanter that is full with a murky substance. Harry nods his head after receiving the objects and Max scurries off and out of the room.
And once again I am left alone with Harry.
Harry kneels in front of me and silently takes my injured foot in his hands. I don't say anything as he slips my sock off, his fingers trail on my skin and my eyes widen. I'm pretty sure I've got goosebumps on my arms but he doesn't look up at me as he places my foot on his legs and pops open the decanter.
A nice smell wafts from the glass. Smelling like musk and some other type of flower that I don't know the name of.
"I got this oil imported from China," Harry tells me, tipping some of the oil into his hand, "It's supposed to help muscle and scar healing. It's also good for cuts and bruises." I notice that Harry's voice has gotten relatively lower, his voice sounding like a comforting rumble.
Harry runs the oil over his hands and I watch it shimmer the light from the afternoon sun outside. With his oily hands he lifts my foot up from his lap, ever so gently so that I hardly feel any pain.
He runs his fingers over my ankle, massaging the oil into my skin. I cringe as his thumbs press in but eventually the pain ebbs as I get used to the feeling.
His hands are warm and careful. He doesn't meet my eyes, instead he keeps them trained on my foot. His fingers run over and under my toes, massaging my heel and around the bone of my ankle.
I groan a little as he presses in deeper. Harry looks up and meets my eyes, "Sorry."
But I'm not hurting, it feels good. Harry's hands work my foot gently but firmly. I watch him as he stares back. There's something in his green eyes that catches my attention. Some raw emotion that I can't identify, but before I can decide what it is, Harry drops his eyes and withdraws his hands.
He dries my foot with the towel, brushing it down softly as if I'm fragile. Then he begins to carefully wind a bandage around my ankle. Up and over, up and over. Finally my foot is bound comfortably. I ease the sock back on and I send a small smile Harry's way.
"Thanks."
Harry wipes his hands on the towel and stands. "No problem." He looks like he is going to say some thing else but he is interrupted by a small knocking on the door. Max ambles in yet again, but this time he is followed.
Those four incredibly hot guys walk in, all smiling politely at me. One of them, the blonde one, laughs at something that the brunette guy, I saw earlier at my game, said. Max sits a large tray full with assorted cakes and buns on the coffee table in front of me.
"I made them all," he says with a proud smile on his face.
"Oh," I say, because that's all I can say. I smile back at him, "They all look really nice."
"He didn't make them, chef helped him make them," Harry says, crosses his arms and stares impassively down at the small boy. Max looks like he's going to cry. His blue eyes grow bigger and his mouth drops open a bit.
I scowl at Harry, asshole.
"He still helped make them," I point out and then I turn to Max, "Am I allowed to have one?" And just like I'd hoped he would, Max immediately brightens and nods vigorously. But before I can reach them, the other four boys grab themselves handfuls, leaving the tray bare. They laugh and begin stuffing food down their throats.
I look at Max and once again, he looks heartbroken.
"Oi!" Harry shouts and they all look up. Harry flicks his chin in my direction and shoots his eyebrows up, indicating that they are to give me something. With muttered apologies they place back their untouched food back on the tray.
I raise my hands up, "Nah, it's okay." I don't really want to eat what they've touched anyway. Harry on the other hand isn't too happy.
"She doesn't want to eat it now that you've had your dirty hands all over them," he says, his tone angry and pissed off, "You dicks are gonna go make her new food now."
The boys all groan in protest, "What? You serious?"
"Yes, you're in my house. You do what I ask," Harry snaps back, his arms crossing over his chest.
I look up at Harry, "Hey, I don't need food. It's okay." I am so surprised at his reaction to the food. I really don't mind anyway. He looks down at me and glares.
Oh, alright then. The thought crosses my mind angrily and so I return the glare. He is so weird. I can't keep up with his mood swings.
"She doesn't need food, she said so herself," says the blonde one.
"Niall, shut up. You cook for her or you get out," Harry replies, his tone unmoving, uncaring.
"You're shitting me!"
Whilst they argue I watch little Max turn from face to face, listening to the conversation. His eyes are still wide and his mouth open. He looked so sad and to say that it breaks my heart.
"Hey Max," I say, getting his attention, "do you wanna cook for me?" Hopefully this will avoid argument as Harry seems set on feeding me. Max's face clears and he nods his head, his sad mouth turning into a wide grin.
"Fine, Max will cook for Mia," Harry says gruffly, obviously he isn't too happy about this decision. Niall and the other boys cheer and little Max runs off, perhaps thinking that they are cheering for him.
I sigh and sit back further in my spot as Harry says to the others, "Mia is my friend as well as a lady. She will be treated with respect otherwise I'll kick your head in."
The guys all laugh and stand to leave the room. I am so shocked that I just sit there, laughing uncertainly, uh what?
The guys all leave the room and Harry looks down at me. I cross my arms over my chest, "You know, you didn't have to go that far to make them cook for me," I snap.
Harry inches closer to me, his arms uncrossing as he leans over me.
"Yes I did," he says, his green eyes staring into mine, "they were being rude, plus you're my guest."
My mouth flaps open and shut, "It was fine, really. I don't need to eat."
"Too bad," Harry rasps and leans in close over me, "I needed to get them out somehow."
I blink up at him, "Why?" By now Harry's face is inches from mine, I can feel the heat of his breath on my face, our noses are only inches away. I can feel my face blush as I notice how close he is.
"So I can do this," he breathes and I feel his warm hand lightly touch my bare thigh. Air gets caught in my throat as I feel it travel up, his fingers leaving trails of fire on my skin. As he is doing this with his hands, he is staring at me. Watching my expression, my reaction.
His fingers inch higher to the hem of my shorts and as he leans forward to kiss me, I flinch away.
"I don't even know you," I tell him truthfully, because I don't. Ten years later and he comes back, I've barely known him for two days.
"You've known me for years," he murmurs, his fingers still working their way over my shorts and near my waist.
"I haven't seen you for years." I move my head away and grab hold of his large hands, raising them off me. He doesn't like me, I know that for sure. He probably just wants someone to lay over while he gets used to the neighbourhood. He's gorgeous enough to have any woman he wants anyway, so why is he hanging with me for?
Harry's mouth turns in to a slow wicked grin, "You can't tell me you don't want this."
I scowl, "Want what?" I know what he's talking about but I don't dare say it out loud.
"This." Harry's hands yank me forward and I suddenly find them in my hair, wrapping his fingers in my ponytail. He pulls my head to the side and before I can even make a noise in protest, Harry attaches his lips to my neck and I gasp at the feeling.
His lips kiss my skin, sucking as he makes a trail up to my jaw line. I close my eyes and let out some sort of noise, a cross between a whine and a moan. Harry's thumbs massage the back of my head, urging me on.
My eyes fly open and I push him off me, spluttering all the while.
"You- you perv! What are you doing!?" I cry and stand up, my hands curled into fists. My face is still bright red but this time it's because I'm angry. What gives him the right to touch me? I press my lips together as I stand my ground against Harry.
He moves a hand across his face, obviously he is trying hard not to laugh. His growing smirk just makes me even more furious.
"You know you look really cute when you're angry," he tells me and moves forward to brush his thumb over my bottom lip, "Your bottom lip pushes out."
I let out an exasperated cry and I slap him, hard across the cheek. Harry drops his hand from my face and raises it to his own, alarm in his eyes. Ignoring the pain in my foot, I collect my shoes and burst out of the room.
All I can hear as I exit the house is Harry's booming laughter.

Notes

All credit goes to doily