Lily Evans and the Battle for Shirts!
I, Lily Evans, am in track. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE track! I love the running, the discus, the shot! Oh yeah, and the field events too. But there is one thing I HATE. In the heat, when the sun BURNS down upon you, and all you want to do is escape to Air Conditioned places, what do the boys do?
They take off their shirts.
They take them off. They go bareback. And when you walk by them they yell,
"Hey, Evans, checking me out?"
Well, actually, James Potter yells that. And I have had to endure it from 6th grade up to Junior year. But no longer. Because, this year, in my Senior year, I will put an end to it. How, I'm not quite sure. But I have friends. Mainly Alice Prewett, Marlene McKinnon, and Remus Lupin. So far, I think that Remus will be the most helpful, seeing as he's a boy. He can MAYBE get people to stop taking off their shirts. First, I have to tell him my plan, though.
"So, Um, Remus. I need some help with this plan I have." I said the day of our first track practice. He looked up.
"Yeah, Lily, what is it?" He replied, smiling. I took a deep breath.
"Well, I want the boys to keep their shirts on and I was wondering if you could help me with my plan." I said in a rush. I had came up with a plan last night. Remus looked at me.
"Sure, Lily," He said, "But you know my friends are the ringleaders of the people who do that." I smiled, and replied with,
"I know. Thats why I need your help." Realization dawned on him. I smiled as he nodded. Then, I told him my plan. He grinned as I told him it.
The next day, we put our plan into action. I walked by James Potter and Sirius Black. Remus was conversing with Peter. James grinned as I walked by, headed towards the discus field. "Hey, Evans," he said loudly. Everyone's heads turned toward us. "Checking me out?" I looked at him. Usually I just glared and walked away. But today I said,
"Actually, no. I was trying to avoid you, in fact." He looked confused. "After all, I think shirts are cool. And, many girls agree with me." I waved my hand behind me. Many girls were amassed there. One girl yelled,
"Modest is hottest!" This remark started a flurry of others, and soon the boys heard LOTS of comments like that. A few of my favorites were these.
"Shirts are my friends!"
"How would you like it if I took my shirt off?" And my absolute favorite, yelled by Alice Prewett,
"Besides, you guys don't have abs anyways!" I was so proud. Then, Remus ran by. His shirt was on. This inspired many others to put their shirts on. I smiled. It was working. Then I walked back to my friends. And our coach, Ms. McGonagall. She looked at me and said,
"Good work, Miss Evans. Now go do something!" But I knew she was happy. This might get Mr. Slughorn, the boys coach, to keep his boys shirts on. As I turned back to the discus field, I was grinning. And so, not looking where I was going. And the effect of this? I ran straight into a certain, shirtless, boy. And who, you may ask this boy was? I will respond with this. His name starts with a J, and ends with a R. Yup. You guessed it.
James Potter.
I squealed, and tried to jump back. But he had wrapped his arms around me.
"So, Evans," he said quietly,"You want me to put my shirt on, right?" I nodded nervously, afraid to speak because if I did, it would cause me to talk into his abs. "Do you want me to do it now? Do you want me to do it to hide my non-existent abs?" I nodded again. He smiled evilly. Or, at least, I think he did. I couldn't see, what with my head pressed into his six-pack. "Then," he said very evilly, eviler than before, "You won't mind rubbing your hand along my chest. Because it will be flabby and soft. Because I have no abs, right?" I gulped. My throat rubbed against his stomach. Crap. My plan had backfired. Badly. I said,
"Erm, James, I'm fine with doing that." But he must've known I was lying. He laughed softly.
"Alright then, do it." My hand reached up. He had let me go. I stroked my hand down his chest, hand trembling the entire time. He went completely still. I finished, and began to step away. But then, he grabbed me.
"Well, Evans?"
"Well- Well, What?"
"How'd it feel? Flabby?"
"Um..."
"And Evans, don't try lying. I'll know."
"Well, um, it was, um..."
"Spit it out, Evans."
"Um..." He looked impatient.
"Evans, let me tell you what I thought. I thought that you were trembling the entire time." I gasped. I began to speak, but he interrupted me. "And, Evans, I-" he hesitated and got even quieter, if that was possible. "I thought that it was very nice." I trembled, then spake.
"You have some nice abs, Potter." I said. He smiled. And on that day, I remembered something my mentor said to me back in 6th grade.
"Boys should not take off their shirts. Unless they're hot seniors with a six-pack." And a hot senior with a six-pack James was.
And from that day on, I didn't really care if James kept his shirt off. But, I was fine ogling him. After all, He was my boyfriend.