Directioners Crazy Mofo Book

2ND PLACE CONTEST WINNER

MY SECOND PLACE CONTEST WINNER IS @Cre8_Directioner !:D
CONGRATS! I thought this was really unique and I loved it:)

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Imagine: Crossing Lines by @Cre8_Directioner

I dash out of my house, the front door slamming behind me. For the past twelve hours, restless energy left over from my phone call with Liam has been building inside of me. It's finally boiling over, and I need a way to release it.

My legs fall into an easy jog as I head down my street. The way my sneakers pound the sidewalk is as natural and as thoughtless as breathing. I'm fast, but my best friend Liam is faster. When we were kids, before my heart fluttered when he said my name and before I dreamt about him, we would race down the street, scowls of competition on our faces but joy in our hearts.

He'd always win, but when it got to the point that my losing streak was beginning to get slightly pitiful, he'd slow down steps before the finish line - pretending to be too tired to hurry - and I'd triumphantly cross it, holding my arms in the air and cheering. We both knew that he let me win, but we never discussed it. He knew I was grateful without needing to hear it. That was just the way we were, until last night. Until I decided to do something unrepairable and incredibly stupid.

I feel a twinge in my chest at the thought of that phone call, the godforsaken phone call that ended the longest friendship I've ever had. Anger and embarrassment flush my cheeks and mind. I pick up my speed as if I can escape those emotions by running, although I know it's impossible. My headphones pound music into my ears as I move. I prefer to listen to rap when I'm on my daily run , because the angry words match my stomps on the ground. I normally don't like it, but it keeps me going, and it keeps me angry. But I don't know who I'm angry at: Liam or myself. Possibly both of us.

My feet slap against the ground in time with Eminem's furious words, my arms snapping at my sides. I'm sprinting now, down my street and around the corner. The autumn air is crisp and fresh as it blows past my face and strokes my hair. The buttery sun hangs in the sky, trying to convince me that winter is not a month away. Despite the coolness of the morning, I feel sweat dampen my arms and forehead. My lungs are burning. It's like someone ripped them open and left them to dry. I challenge myself, picking up my speed until I'm no longer Sydney, a seventeen-year-old girl with a crush on her best friend, but simply a flurry of movement pounding down the street.

This is my means of escape. Even though I'm not escaping to any place, I'm still running, and I can still figuratively leave my problems in the dust underneath my Nikes. Let everyone else have their razor blades and eating disorders. This is all I need - my lungs burning, my hair flying, my feet aching.

As my legs move me forward, my mind moves me back. Back to last night, when I called Liam with a quivering voice and a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I told him in the most ungraceful way possible: "I think I might, uh. I think I might like you. Like, like you like you."

I cringe at the memory. I sounded like a naïve seven- year-old, or an insufferable teenager from a chick flick. What does Liam think of me now? He didn't say much after I confessed, just hung up after he said he needed to think. This sent me into an all night panic. He could be thinking about anything. Our future? Our past? Or, worst of all, our present.

I have no idea what's going to happen between us now, and it's terrifying because it's unfamiliar. Things have always been so routine between Liam and me: We jog in the morning, ride the bus to school together, hang out after school at each other's houses, doing homework or just goofing around. It's repetitive, and I hate not being able to tell him how I really feel, but there are lines that I know of.

Touching his hand in a joking manner: the safe side of the line. Running my fingers through his soft brown hair when we watch movies: crossing the line. And so I refrain from doing what I want, because there are lines we just can't cross. But this line, the one that involves Liam and I together as a couple, is a finish line that I hopelessly want to cross, arms raised in the air in victory.