answer to prompt 27: getting caught staring
Abigail made her way across the grass under the hot, late-afternoon sunshine, the oppressive heat making the air vibrate as she neared the football field. She smiled at the redhead sprawled out not far away, her school bag laying next to her, but got no response. Puzzled, she followed the direction of her friend's gaze to the field, where a sweaty, bespectacled boy was running, his shirt pulled up by the hem while he wiped at his face. Comprehension immediately dawned on her.
"You should stare harder," she said, by way of greeting.
Lily started at the interruption, abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Her face flushed red as she finally registered Abigail's presence.
"Piss off," she mumbled, looking much like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
"No, really, you're being far too subtle. Try panting," Abigail quipped.
This garnered a simple, "I hate you."
She sat down, pulling her bag onto her lap. "I brought Maltesers."
"I love you very much."
Abigail snorted as she dropped a couple sweets into Lily's outstretched hand.
"So, what's happening?" she asked.
"Good question," Lily said through a mouthful, her gaze homing back in on Potter like a tracking missile. "Stay curious."
"For someone who attends every game and virtually every practice, you're awfully ignorant about the actual game being played."
"I don't attend every practice. I just happen to be getting some fresh air in the vicinity of the field around the same time practices tend to be scheduled."
"You also happen to sound like a psychopath."
"I'm not stalking him or anything."
Abigail snorted. "Why would you feel the need to specify that unless–"
"Here, have a treat," Lily said, shoving a handful of Maltesers into her friend's mouth. The brunette had the gall to continue laughing through the mouthful, though she choked slightly on the rapidly melting chocolate, which Lily considered a win, albeit a small one.
A yelled warning drew their attention away from their squabble and to the ball soaring through the air, incidentally flying right at them. In the split second they had to register that it was headed for Abigail's face, the ball suddenly lurched to the side, as though snagged by an invisible hook, and dropped to the grass at Lily's feet, rolling to a gentle stop in front of her.
No one noticed the almost imperceptible flick of Lily's finger as the ball veered off its course, though Abigail didn't need to see it to know what had happened.
They barely had a chance to catch their breaths before Colum came running up to them, taking the ball Lily handed him with a perfunctory thanks and turning to Abigail.
"You alright?" he asked.
"Peachy," she answered.
Colum was looking a little pink. "Wow, that was weird," he added. "The way it just... moved, like that."
"Gust of wind, probably." Abigail rooted through the small red bag for another sweet, not looking up.
"Right. That makes sense." Colum shifted from foot to foot, trying desperately to make eye contact.
"Did you need anything else?"
"Nope, just picking the ball up."
Abigail finally looked up and stated, "Well, make sure to have him home by 9."
This last statement, made with a completely straight face, threw poor Colum completely for a loop. His eyes darted pleadingly to Lily, as though she might explain to him the mysterious depths of women's minds, or at least Abigail's.
Lily wasn't much help as she coughed into her arm, trying to hide the mirth on her face. "She's just kidding," she choked out, reemerging. "Thanks, Colum."
Taking the hint, he nodded and walked away, kicking the ball in front of him. The two girls watched him go, trying their damndest not to dissolve into giggles while he was within earshot.
Feeling someone's gaze on her, Lily glanced at the field, where James was already looking at her. You ok? he mouthed. She smiled back, nodding. He grinned, miming wiping sweat off his brow.
Crisis averted, the two girls sat quietly, Abigail going through Lily's bag in search of the English assignment, while the redheaded football aficionado watched the players with ferocious intensity.
"God, I love sports."
She looked up from the notebook she was leafing through and watched as James jogged backwards, making faces at Lily.
"I'm sure 'sports' will be thrilled to hear that," she said, turning back to the paper.