With You

06. Piggy Back

I arrived at the soccer field fifteen minutes early the next day, intending to speak to Rowan. Or yell. One of the two.

He'd pissed me off with his sudden attitude and the rest of my lunch break with Flora had been completely soiled. I was in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

When I didn't see him, I tugged my sweatshirt over my head and began training.

Within the hour, my legs were sore with cramping, overworked muscles, and sweat spotted my forehead, clinging onto stray strands of hair. The wind was cold against my bare arms. I lifted my shirt, dragging it over my face and sighing at the cool air that hit my bare chest.

The sky was starting to lighten, turning a paler blue. The sun bathed the field in golden light and I let it wash over my skin. It was the perfect weather for morning practice – not too hot and not too cold. I reached down to grab my water bottle, spraying it on my face first, and then into my mouth.

As I gulped down half my bottle, I turned, scanning the field until my eyes landed on Rowan.

He sat in his usual spot, his legs crossed as he leaned back against the stone corridor, a book pulled open in his lap. I stared at him for a minute.

He wore a stupidly smart outfit and I snorted at how formal it seemed for college, where half the population turned up in sweatpants or pyjamas. The sun slanted over his face, glistening against his dark skin.

When had he turned up?

Without thinking, I walked towards him, tucking my soccer ball under my arm.

"Hey!" I called out.

He didn't move. I frowned. Had he not heard me? I walked closer, calling out again. "Hey! Rowan!"

His brow twitched – so slightly – and I knew he'd heard me, but he didn't respond. I scowled.

Now he was pissing me off.

I walked right up to the edge of the field so that we were several feet apart.

"Rowan!" I shouted. When he didn't respond again, I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you ignoring me?"

Rowan Baines was famous for ignoring people. He ignored most of the college population, except for me. Until now. I glowered, deciding to give him one more chance.

"Hey!"

He didn't flinch. Instead, he lifted a hand and slowly turned the page of his book. His face remained expressionless but I could feel the smugness coming off of him. Oh, that was it.

I stepped forward and in one swift motion, threw the ball directly at him.

He started, his hands flying up to protect his face and catch the ball, his book falling shut on his lap. He looked down at the closed book. Anger seeping off of him, he slowly craned his head up to cut me a sharp glare.

"Sebastian!" he snarled, slamming a hand against the soccer ball.

I smirked. "Oh. Now he acknowledges my presence, huh?"

"I was reading."

"I saw," I said, shrugging. "I just didn't care."

"You little –"

"Besides, hitting you in the face would have been a great bonus. I guess I need to work on my aiming after all. Maybe Flora will have some tips."

A muscle in his jaw twitched and suddenly he was hurling the ball at my head.

My eyes widened as I staggered back, the ball hitting me square on the chest before falling to my knees. I caught it easily, beginning to juggle it on my knees.