Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ORLANDO, 1991
The city calls him Southpaw, a sobriquet graciously granted to the left-handed pitcher who has won every game for the Orlando Sun Rays at Tinker Field.
Harry Styles is the praised name behind it all. The tall, curly-headed boy is swiftly on his way to stardom. He's an undeniable force to be reckoned with, built with strong arms that can throw curveballs and fastballs with lightning speed. The twenty-five-year-old is the backbone of his team, the best in the Southern League, and the player who makes the others green with envy. He impressively balances the substantial titles while remaining charismatic and altruistic to everyone he encounters.
When he's not found in the ballpark wearing his usual blue and white baseball uniform, a cap sits atop his head, paired with tan skin that seems to have a new ink design each time he's spotted by an onlooker.
Then there's Sawyer Clemente. Well, she knows for sure that she isn't quite as commendable as her best friend. Standing just a smidge over five feet, she could never amount to his accomplishments or role model status. To put it plainly, she's unemployed, lives with her parents, and has an ex-boyfriend that she hates because she just found out he cheated on her last night.
She's merely Harry's closest companion, rooting for him in the bleachers even if she thinks baseball is a painfully dull sport that only inflates the male ego and makes her sweat in the merciless Florida heat.
She also has a plaguing crush on him but doesn't like to dwell on that matter too much.
It almost seems punishing not to, though, because he's naturally flirtatious. It's impossible not to think about his innocent yet butterfly-inducing touches. To tell where his feelings for her lie, whenever he hugs her tightly after a successful game or looks down at her lips while she rambles about her day, proves to be even more unfeasible.
Sawyer glumly watches the semifinal game, veering her troublesome thoughts away by appreciating Harry's legs in his form-fitting baseball pants. Nothing else seems to be working, so she borderline objectifies him while he chews his Bazooka bubblegum in concentration.
She debated not attending because of the cheating revelation unmasked to her hours earlier, but she would never forgive herself if she missed such an important game for Harry. It determines whether the Sun Rays will compete for the highly illustrious minor league title.
It's now the start of the seventh inning, and it's about the hundredth time she has caught Harry's eyes finding her in the crowd with a solicitous gaze and a frown on his lips. Her tense body language and absent-minded expression must indicate her mood. She despises how well he knows her.
Harry focuses back on the game as he gets into position on the pitching mound, ball in hand and an undaunted mystique exuding from him. With unkempt curls framing his face, a smear of dirt on his cheek that was kicked up from his teammates sprinting to the bases, and his jaw contracting with each gum smack, he finally lifts one leg and throws the ball so fast it could be missed if someone were to blink. The crack of the bat reverberates throughout the stadium, and Sawyer sees Harry glance up to find her again.
