Sarah On Life

Sarah - On Travel

Sarah - On Travel

I've never felt travel sick before.

This statement is probably a relief for you, if you and I are currently planning a road trip. If not, and I'll admit this is more likely, that was probably irrelevant. As I sat on the bus' blue faux leather seats I tried to calm myself, nervousness helped nobody. If anything, it was a weakness to be avoided at all costs.

I'd take my mind off it.

 I turned to my right and saw the farmland directly opposite the school, the farmland that just happened to be the host of the good luck sign posted for the team. That was no good. I turned to my left, to the person seating themselves beside me. Well, at least I could rely on Tia to relieve the boredom of the trip

"Hey, T-" I stopped. The person stowing their bags below the seat was decidedly a bit buff to be my best friend.

They turned, their clear sea-green eyes meeting my own and reassuring what I already knew: Mark.

"Hey."He smiled.

"Hey? Since when have we ever said 'hey'? Where's T?"

"What? And she's coming, but we need to practice."         

~*~

The past two days had flown by. The day I joined the team had obviously been hectic, as you well know, and practice had been full on ever since. I had barely slept the past two nights. Looking back though, I know now that it was worth it. Mark was a good teacher, and though he was a little awkward after our 'moment', things had calmed down by lunchtime yesterday. We'd quickly gotten back to our snarky comments and thinly veiled annoyance. Now we were on the bus on the way to Newton's and, however unreasonable, I couldn't help the small amount of confidence ever growing within me.

I rested my head against the somewhat sticky seat and put in the headphones to my IPod: a shrine to my slightly eclectic tastes. As I set the player to some classic British rock I saw from the corner of my eye Mark turn towards me slightly. With only moderate levels of predictability, my teammate smirked and pulled a speaker from my left ear, without hesitation putting it into his own. He sat for a few moments listening to the classic thump of the base; to the stringed instruments sending shivers down both our spines and to the chords of the guitar escalating lightly, building to an ever present climax. The main singer, Tennant James, began the first few lines of the chorus. I groaned. God he was sexy. That accent...

Mark noticed my reaction and his smirk disappeared, replaced quickly by a look of total condescension.

"You actually listen to this crap?"

"Please. You've been totally commercialised. This is brilliant."

"This isn't about taste!" He said, almost indignantly, "You're only saying that because you have a crush on the lead singer!"

"Whatever. I'm saying it, Sir, because it happens to be true. These songs mean something, and that's... special. And if it isn't love when an awesomely attractive and talented singer can always give me the shivers, then I don't want know when it is!"

Mark opened his mouth, undoubtedly to utter some snarky defence of the current auto-tuned bubble-gum pop tastes, when Tom, sitting in the seat directly in front of us, turned around.

"Shivers, huh? Like me then? Does he shiver your timbers?" Tom rose in eyebrows in what was apparently supposed to be some kind of innuendo-assisting gesture. Riiight.

"No one does it like you do Tom. Except perhaps Tom Felton. Oh. My god. All that inner turmoil? He can slytherin my bed anytime."