Full Out

Chapter Twenty

"How are you higher than me?" Ezra gaped, pushing his legs out harder. I giggled, my hair flying around in the air.

"What's the matter? Can't keep up?" I teased, straightening my body and leaning back. My hair grazed the sand beneath us as butterflies flew around my stomach from the movement. Ezra laughed next to me, doing the same.

We were currently at Arrowood Park, one of my favorite places in the world. Occupying the two seat swing set, Ezra and I had been swinging back and forth for a good fifteen minutes. The warm breeze felt perfect against my face as I kicked my legs to give myself momentum.

In front of us was a large playground, with twisting slides and little rock walls that had ropes attached to help climb up.

The moon above was covered by clouds, but the park had streetlights to help us see. We were the only ones here.

After another minute, I began slowing down my swing until it barely moved. Ezra followed my example.

"I used to come here a lot as a kid," I explained, as Ezra and I kept a steady pace together. We were almost stagnant, our toes digging into the sand.

Ezra turned to glance at me with an intrigued smile on his lips. I brought my arm up, pointing towards the tallest part of the play set.

"Right up there," I began as Ezra turned to look where I was pointing. "I was climbing up that big slide. I made it all the way to the top and then... I fell."

Ezra whipped around, laughing. "You fell from that high up?" he gaped. I laughed and nodded.

"Yeah. It's probably not such a big deal now, but back then it might as well have been a skyscraper," I laughed. "I must have lost my footing and I fell backwards. I broke three fingers that day," I explained, running my hand over my pinky, ring, and middle finger on my left hand.

Roman was there with me. He stayed by my side from then until we left the hospital, my wrist in a cast.

I didn't want to talk about him, though, so I didn't mention that part.

"Wow," Ezra commented, shaking his head. "You poor thing. I couldn't imagine."

"Have you ever broken anything before?" I asked, gripping the chains of the swing on either side of me.

"I have," the british boy nodded. He brought a hand up to run his fingers through his sandy hair.

The action was incredibly hot.

"I broke an ankle playing football... er... soccer in year six," he explained. I was about to ask what year six meant, but I then figured it out on my own. He was in sixth grade when he hurt himself.

I cringed, sucking a breath through my teeth.

"Ouch," I whispered. Ezra chuckled at my reaction and nodded his head.

"It was not pleasant. This boy on the other team tripped me, and somehow he ended up falling on top of me. My ankle bent in the wrong place and I left the field with a fracture."

I blew an exhausted breath from my lips, glancing at his boots.

"Sports are scary."

"You're in a sport, though," Ezra commented. I looked up at him. His blue eyes looked darker from the dim atmosphere. When he noticed my questioning look, he continued. "You are a dancer after all."

"Oh," I said and nodded.

"Do you not think that dancing is a sport?"

"I do," I nodded and then shrugged slightly. "A lot of other people don't, but I reckon it's because they don't know how much hard work it takes."