Frankie Jones
I've been training with Harry for two weeks now, and I'd say it's going interestingly.
We argue maybe once a day, but honestly, I think the frustration and anger makes me run faster, train harder. The arguments are always stupid, I think we're just two stubborn, easily agitated people and so we tend to clash a lot. Then we say things that are a little out of line, someone will storm of and refuse to come back to the track, half an hour will pass and we're back to work again. I've gotten used to it now.
'You're a second too slow.' Harry said, his stopwatch in hand as I launched myself across the finish line at the end of a sprint I thought was one of my best.
Harry came today wearing shorts, he's usually in sweatpants but England is suffering a heatwave so it's shorts for Harry today. He was also wearing a tank as opposed to a t-shirt, so I was getting too see much more of his tattoos today. They're interesting, I find that I keep staring at his arm covered with little drawing like a sketchbook.
'What!?' I exclaimed. 'It's too hot.'
'It'll be hot at the olympics, Frankie. Get used to it.' Harry said, passing me the bottle of water he was holding as I crouched down feeling like I was about to melt into the ground. 'You gotta get used to running in the heat, it'll be worse in Barcelona.'
'We're in England, that's kinda hard.' I rolled my eyes at him. 'It'll be raining next week.
'We could fly out to Cali?' He suggested.
'Cali?' I raised an eyebrow.
He calls California 'Cali' for short, as somebody who's accent couldn't be more English if he tried. It sounded odd, it sounded pretentious and somehow, it was something I expected from him. He likes to pretend he's all laid back and chilled out, but he's the opposite. He also loves abbreviating words that don't need shortened, which is something we've fallen out about before.
'California.' Harry explained, like I was questioning because I didn't know what he meant rather than the fact I thought he sounded stupid. 'To train, it's more humid there and I have some friends that could sort us out.'
'I know what Cali is, stupid, I just think you sound weird calling it Cali.' I laughed. 'What are you? Some cool surfer dude from Los Angeles? Some...American?'
'You calling me a 'surfer dude' is ten times worse.' He said, a smug grin on his face as he looked down at me sitting in the track. 'Should I make calls for California?'
'Would it actually help? Or do you just want a holiday?' I asked him.
Training in Los Angeles would probably be beneficial. I understand getting climatised and how that impacts my runs, but when the olympics come, I'll be in Barcelona for three weeks before the first sprint starts, so I'd have time to climatise over there. If we went to California, and it was just Harry and I, I'd have no home to run away to, just some hotel room in the same building as him and sometimes it's great to be able to drive miles away from his existence.
'Maybe a bit of both.' He answered, and I appreciated the honesty. 'I do have friends over there though, I know someone who could arrange a couple lanes at a track for us and that kinda thing.'
'Fine, whatever you think works.' I shrugged my shoulders, Harry laughed as I stood up and chucked the bottle back to him. 'What's funny?'
'You and your 'whatever's' Harry told me with a smirk, 'you gonna stop hating me one day?'
'I don't hate you.'
'No?' He cocked his head to the side, clearly confused.
'I just dislike you quite a lot.' I smiled sarcastically, walking off to grab my bag because thankfully, it was the end of the day.
