Find You There (Fanfic Version)

Five

"I'm insulted," I say, raising my hands after a while of tolerating him but now, I really can't let it pass.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, now realizing that it's a very bad idea to actually do P.E. in our gala uniforms.

Harry licks his lips, confused as he plays with the ball under his foot. "Why?"

"First of all, you're playing with me like I'm a royal persona, insulting," I answer. "Second of all, you're playing with me like I don't know how to play."

He snickers.

"And third of all, you're playing with me like I'm a girl."

"You are a girl," he comments.

"Yeah, but it's insulting that you actually treat me like a girl while playing," I say. Insulting as Louis does that, even Runner and it gets quite annoying. I wipe my forehead again and then put my handkerchief in my pocket.

We've been playing for a while now and I've been telling him to play it the way he'd play an actual game but as far as I can tell, he's not taking me seriously.

"How do I play with you, then? I can't exactly play it rough on you."

I click my tongue, "You're really not going to play fair with me, are you?"

He shrugs, "Just tell me if you want otherwise."

"I've been telling you!" I yell. "Dude, you've been taking it easy on me and I don't like it. I don't."

"Tired of everyone treating you like a princess?" He asks and smiles.

I mutter a swear under my breath and then say, "Exactly."

He sighs, "Alright, I'll play fair with you. Don't blame me for how it ends."

"Deal," I say. "Change of plans though, I'll keep, you kick. Half field."

"You sure?"

"Si," I answer and he smiles.

As I walk towards the goal posts, I recall the many times I've seen him kick a goal during the past month, when he'd pretend there's actually a goalkeeper. He has a pattern. . .

I lick my lips as he stands in the middle of the field with the ball in front of him. He starts with a small kick, the faster he goes, the quicker he runs to maintain his distance.

I move my left foot as a diversion. I know that pattern.

A few meters away his pattern starts showing itself, left foot, right foot for distraction, fake kick and then. . .

Upper right.

I caught the ball, feeling the impact of his kick from it in my fingers. "Ow," I mutter to myself, as I place it on the ground. I open and close both my palms, which are both turning red.

My mistake.

I look at Harry and his eyebrows meet. Again, he's looking perplexed as ever.

"How'd you know I was going to kick there?" He asks.

"Good hunch," I lie. "Again?"

He nods. I kick the ball to him, he kicks it and simply plays with it until he's back at the field.

He's trying his other pattern and I pretend not to notice. Once more, swift and strong, I block the incoming ball with my hand. . . another mistake.

"Ow," I groan to myself.

Harry laughs, "I'm playing it fair, I swear. You're just good."

It's not that!

I actually want to yell him but then I remember, it's not his fault at all. I told him to play it fair and it's not his fault he misunderstood.