Light. (Louis Tomlinson AU)

I want to talk about my life. About how I made it big.

When people ask me how I've made it this far, I have one simple answer.

Work.

I've worked hard since I was twelve years old on the swim team, wanting to be an Olympic swimmer. My parents death did nothing to discourage me, in fact, it drove me harder, as they'd always shared my dreams. My aunt had encouraged the dream.

And look at me now. Here I am, one silver medal under my belt and hopefully a gold medal next month, at the Rio de Janeiro Summer Olympics.

At the time, I was sitting on a bench, waiting for the rest of the team to finish showering. The girls were too slow, we were planning on a girls night out.

I became annoyed with them, and gathered my belongings and walked out. As I passed a shower door, I called over my shoulder to Bethany, my co-captain.

“Beth! I'm heading home! Bye!” I called.

“Hayden, we were going out to eat!” Bethany whined. I rolled my eyes, though she couldn't see me.

“I'm tired, I'll text you,” I answered. “I'm going to cut through the mens locker rooms, I left Jacob's hat in there.”

Jacob is my cousin, who was on the soccer team. His team wasn't Olympic level, but they were very good, taking the top on nearly every game they played.

I'd worn his hat into the locker room while I was waiting on him last week when the rest of the team was gone. I'd played goalie for him so he could practice kicking. The kid was sixteen and was probably the best I'd seen, and that was including the 2012 Olympic Games.

I pulled my wet brown hair into a ponytail and adjusted my blue sports bag on my shoulder as I went through the men's locker room doorway. My bangs were stuck onto my forehead from the shower water, so I rummaged around in my bag for a headband.

My phone buzzed as I continued to look through my bag, and I answered it.

“Hello?” I asked. I found the headband and held it lightly as I looked for Jacob's locker.

“Hayden! You got my hat?” Jacobs raspy voice asked. I laughed at the timing of the call as I located his locker, 332, and asked for the combination. Jacob gave it to me number by number as I spun the dial, and after we chatted for a few more minutes, he finally let me go.

I grabbed the green snapback and slipped the headband onto my head, knowing that my hair would be wild and unruly within the hour. I was starting to put the snapback on when I heard a voice behind me.

“You're not supposed to be in here, you know.”

I spun around, my heart racing. The hat, still loose on my head fell to the ground. I didn't bother to pick it up, locking my eyes on the figure in the doorway. My mind raced, everyone should have been gone, the sports center should have been empty.

A man was leaning cockily against the door frame, his arms folded loosely across his chest.

I looked up his body, from his feet, which were shod in muddy cleats, to his exercise shorts, which left just enough of tanned, muscular leg for me to linger, to his heavily tattooed chest, and then to his face.

Bright blue eyes stared at me as perfect pink lips pulled upwards into a smirk.

I gasped when he suddenly pushed away from the door frame and stalked towards me.

Alarm bells sounded in my head and I stood my ground against the man. He was only a few inches taller than my five foot seven, and I refused to be intimidated.

“I'm here for a friend.” I said coolly. The stranger grinned down at me. There was barely a foot between our bodies. I refused to back away, looking challengingly at the man.

“Who's your friend?” He asked. I cocked an eyebrow.

“I don't believe that's your business to know.” I snapped, turning to walk away. He caught my arm, attempting to pull me to his chest, but I dug my tennis shoes into the floor and twisted my arm in such a way he was forced to release me. I caught the look of surprise before my hand smacked across his face.

The force of the slap spun the guys head to the side, and I felt a surge vague pride. But the man recovered and smirked at me again, as if I hadn't nearly bruised his face.

“Going so soon, Babe?” The man asked. I drew my arm back, considering another slap, but retrained myself.

“Don't touch me,” I hissed. “And DON'T call me Babe.”

The blue eyes stranger stepped closer to me, still grinning cockily. “What else am I supposed to call you?” He purred. “I don't know your name, baby cakes.”

I shoved him away from me by the shoulders and he stumbled back.

“My name is none of your business.” I hissed, and stalked out the door. It slammed against a locker and the sound of metal on metal made me cringe. I spared one last glance at the man before I walked away.

“Have a good day, Hayden!” The man called after me. He bent and picked something from the floor. He waved it in the air, and I caught a flash of green and nearly groaned.

But then I realized something.

He knew my name. And, he had my hat.

Fuming, I made my way to my car and then home. I ate take out for supper, then went to bed later that night after a Friends marathon still fuming. No amount of Joey's jokes could calm me now. I was in a mood.

And not a good mood.

A very, very bad mood.

And that was the beginning of the story, my story. The story of love, hate, too much sass, and a green snapback that was the beginning to everything.

Notes