Coach Styles [l.s]

20

I'm eating a bagel. It's 3 in the morning. It's pretty bland tasting.

Okay I saw some fetus pics of Larry while I was searching the Internet for a good header, and my heart broke. I miss fetus Larry so much. And it really makes me think twice about being a larrie. Because if they aren't together (atm) and we're saying they are and making all these things about them, then I'll feel like an asshole.

Idk man, why do I have to be a larrie. Why couldn't I have just been a Louie or something. Lmao the struggle of being a larrie.

Enjoy? Xx
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Why is he making me run anyways? Didn't I just fucking do that for half an hour on the field?! He's so confusing sometimes, and I can never tell what he wants. Is he happy? Is he sad? Angry? Horny? Scratch the last one.

Okay I really don't need to be thinking about horny Harry right now while I'm in these football shorts. But his legs. Have you seen them?

  I look up at him to see him smirking down at me.
"Why do I have to run?" I whine.
"Because you were disrespecting me and acting rude," he says confidently.
"So what," I shriek. His lips quirk down into a frown and he looks angry again.
"You need to be punished," the sentence barely leaves his moist and pink lips. But I hear it nonetheless and it gives me shivers down my spine.

I almost forgot about what he said earlier. How naughty princess get punished. Remember that? Yea, me too. I don't say anything back and instead awkwardly look away. There are still some parents from both my team and the opposing team left.

"Why weren't you listening to me before?" His voice rings out and catches me off guard due to my pondering.

"Why would I want to listen to you?" I laugh viciously. I probably shouldn't have said that, but I did anyways. I gotta say, it feels good.

"Make it 6 laps," he says with an evil smile.

I huff and stomp my foot, regretting the action as soon as it is done. I probably look like some foolish toddler who didn't get his way. Okay that's actually exactly how I'm acting. But I don't want to run another lap, let alone any laps!

"Lou, I'm not fooling around!" He shouts and I flinch a little. He looks tired and done with my attitude. Perfect. I decide to push him a little more.

"Ah, great to win the game for you. I mean, I'm the only player who could do shit on the team. I blame your teaching skills. I'm the best one on the team. Unfortunately for you, I learned all my skills and tricks from my old coach. Have a nice night, Coach Styles," I tease and begin to walk off. I'm about to do a victory dance in my head when I feel a sharp sting on my wrist.

I look down to see Harry's long fingers wrapped around my wrist. I shriek and try to pull away, only causing more pain. His fingernails are pressing deep into my scars. They have healed for the most part, but one of them was so deep that it was still in the process of healing.

"Let go asshole!" I yell at him as I wriggle around in his grasp. I wonder if anyone is witnessing this. I don't see anyone from where I am standing. Shit. We're alone.

Harry is strong and won't let me out of his grip. His arms are flexing, but it doesn't look like he's trying. My hair is still stuck to my forehead and I probably look so vulnerable, weak, and small in his eyes.

He bends down a little so his face is closer to my face. I stop struggling and look into his eyes. My heart is pounding and my body is shaking. He looks angry. A look that I've become adapted to. A look that frightens me but also intrigues me.