dylan
"Alright everybody, line up!" I yell as our warm up jog comes to an end. The other captains and I move to the front of each lane on the track, our other teammates getting behind us. Chris, the boys' sprinting captain, leads our stretches.
It's the first day of track season, my senior year. I'm determined to make this season the best one yet. I'm hoping to get to state this year, after I missed it by only one place last year. They're only taking the top athlete in each event, though. Which sucks because every other year it's been top two.
As we finish stretches, the coaches round us up to explain what we're going to be doing today. Which, of course, is a circuit. Every year for the first week or two we do a conditioning circuit every day with everybody.
Coach Carson finishes explaining each station and telling us which one we were each starting at right as a young man starts jogging across the infield toward us. "Oh there you are," She says, turning to whoever had just approached us. Coach Carson was standing in front of him, so I couldn't see his face, but there was something very familiar about the brown curls on his head.
She steps aside so we can see the boy and I feel my heart skip a beat. Harry Styles. He was on the team a few years ago, a senior when I was a sophomore. He's an absolute legend here. Captain three years in a row, state twice for the 100 meter dash. All the girls had crushes on him, including me. "This is Harry," Coach Carson starts, "He's going to be assisting us this season. The juniors and seniors on the team might remember him." I nod subconsciously. Harry's eyes meet mine. They're just as green as I remember them.
"Holy shit," The girl behind me, Karen, mumbles. Karen is a sophomore and a fellow hurdler.
I wonder if he remembers all the little moments we shared. The hugs after PR'ing. The games we'd play on the bus home from away meets. The cheesy pick-up lines we'd tell each other. The time we kissed.
"Alright," Carson says, "Get to your stations."
At every station throughout practice, I can feel Harry's gaze on me, studying me. He makes me so nervous. He makes me so self-conscious. I can't even focus on the work-outs. I'm at the jump roping station, wondering if he thinks I'm pretty, prettier than I was the last time he saw me two years ago. The thought makes me mess up my double-unders and accidentally whip my arm with the jump rope.
"Shit," I curse.
I glance up to see Harry watching me again, eyebrows furrowed as I reposition the jump rope. Focus, I tell myself.
After practice, I help put the equipment away and then walk as quickly as possible to my car. I can't take Harry's green eyes on me any longer. I open the back door of my Kia Sportage, tossing my duffle bag in. I shut the door and as I turn around, I come face to face with Harry Styles.
"Are your arms okay?" He asks me.
I look down to see red marks littering both of my arms. "Yeah," I shrug, crossing my arms, "I don't know what was up with me today. I'm normally great at double-unders. Just off my rhythm, I guess."
Harry hums softly. "Yes, I remember. You were always the best at the jump roping station. Even as a freshman."
"Hopefully I'm better tomorrow."
Harry nods in agreement. "You grew your hair out," He states.
I subconsciously tug on my long ponytail. When I was a sophomore my hair fell only to my shoulders. Now when it's down and straightened, it stops at the small of my back. "Yeah, I did."
