"no i never resort to
kissing your photo, honest"
dh;
gotthehotz: have you banged claire yet
derrick857: she kissed me
gotthehotz: yeah, isn't she a great kisser?
gotthehotz: i mean, um, what happened
derrick857: and now i'm going to teach her how to play soccer on saturday
gotthehotz: i really want to make that gaping emoticon, but it's gay
cl;
massiekur: so on a scale of 1-10, how hot do you think derrick harrington is?
clairebear: why?
massiekur: just wondering
clairebear: why?
massiekur: do you like him?
clairebear: why?
massiekur: if you don't say anything besides 'why?', i'll assume the worst – you do, you've done it, you're pregnant, and you'll have a bunch of little manwhore-soccer-blondie-virgin babies in 9 months.
massiekur: so do you like him?
clairebear: sure. he works harder than you would think
massiekur: don't play stupid, c. like him like, you-would-fuck-him
clairebear: when you put it like that, no
massiekur: oh, i'm sorry. i'll uncorrupt it for you: would you kiss him like you kissed josh hotz? ;)
clairebear: i have to go study for a test on monday
massiekur: it's winter break, c.
massiekur: claire.
massiekur: claire!
massiekur: CLAIRE.
Autoreply from clairebear: Sorry, I'm not here right now.
"i just had to see how the
chemicals taste there, honey"
dh;
I arrive at the soccer field at half past four and see Claire sitting in the grass, wearing a black v-neck and jeans, leaning against a tree. It had rained yesterday morning, the field is in this perfect state of moisture.
I walk up to her, the ball tucked beneath my arm. "Are you seriously wearing jeans when you're about to learn soccer?" I question her.
She looks up. "Are you seriously wearing shorts in the middle of winter?" She replies. I sigh, and hand her the soccer ball. "Um, so what do you want me to do with this?" She asks, holding it gingerly in her hands.
"Kick it into the goal."
"But it's far away," she says, looking at the goal that's like, ten feet away from her. "And why? You haven't taught me anything yet."
"This is like a uh," I search for the word. "A pretest. To gauge your skill. You know, like when you take tests so they know which math class to put you in?"
She frowns. "Oh." And swallows sets the ball on the ground and stares at it.
"You know, babe, looking at the soccer ball won't do much," I say.
She bites her lip and blushes. "Um, okay, right," she stammers. And looks at the soccer ball, then at the goal, then closes her eyes and very clumsily kicks the ball about five feet away from the goal. It's probably the first time I've ever seen her stumble. "Oh, god."
"Hm," I say. "So I guess we're starting on level zero."
"What's that?"
"Learning how to kick a ball."
She makes a face. "I'm that bad?"
I scratch the back of my neck. "Well, um, it might be a while before you're, say, participating in the FIFA," I say. "There's always the kiddie soccer league."
She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, Harrington."
cl;
At six, it starts drizzling.
"No, you missed it," I protest. "I made it! I swear, I did. You just weren't looking."
"That seems to be the only time you make goals, Claire," Derrick argues.
"No, but I really made it," I counter. He looks at the soccer ball, which is lying quite far away from the white net. "Well, I mean, it looks like I didn't, but I did. Well, the ball ricocheted off of the side of the-"
Derrick laughs and looks down. "That doesn't count."
I cross my arms over my chest. "It should." He shakes his head and just looks at me, like I'm crazy, which I'm not, because if the ball is in when a tennis ball hits the line, a soccer ball should be in when it hits the side of the goal. Right? It makes perfect sense to me. "Stop laughing at me. I made it."
His face breaks out into a smile and he steps closer to me and I can see the outline of his muscles through the now-dampened white shirt he's wearing.
I have a weird flashback to what Massie had asked me earlier: On a scale of one to ten, how hot is Derrick Harrington?
The number twelve flits through my mind. Maybe twelve point-five.
"Claire?" Derrick asks, tilting his head to the side.
I blink. "What?" I ask, acting like I hadn't just been looking at his abs.
"I said, it's raining, do you want to go?"
And I realize it totally is. The sky is completely gray, and droplets of water are hitting my head. "Yeah," I say. "We should – I mean, I should go. Um, thanks for the –"
Before I can complete my sentence, I hear the words, "You aren't getting away from me that quickly, are you?" Derrick asks. "Because you always leave. Makes me feel like I'm not a fun person to be around, and I spent seventeen years of my life telling myself that I am." He makes a face. And rain pelts down harder. Beads of water drop off of his hair.
I swallow. "Well, I – I... I dunno, I'm not that interesting," I say. "You have a fan page on Facebook, and I have a handicapped brother. Doesn't really compare."
"I have a fan page on Facebook?" Derrick asks, a deep crease in his forehead, confused, which in turn confused me because I thought he had created it.
"Not that I look up these things," I reassure him.
"Darn," Derrick says sarcastically. My arms are starting to feel numb and I wonder which part of my brain had decided it would be smart of me to not bring a jacket in winter in New York.
"But back to whatever you were saying," I say.
"You're not leaving me," he states simply.
I nod, confused. "Okay. Cool. So we'll just stay out here and have a heart to heart while I get pneumonia and you get something worse than pneumonia," I say, nodding, thinking, shut up, Claire. "I'm down. This is fun. A bit cold, but fun." I hug my arms.
"Is that really the only thing you can think about right now?" Derrick asks, not really sounding mocking, just amused.
"Is the only thing I can think about right now a major illness I am in serious danger of getting that kills 60,000 people per year? Yeah," I answer. "Why? What do you propose I think about? Which Axe to use and what pair of Nikes will match my shirt?"
Derrick frowns, confused. "No?"
"Well, that's a relief."
Derrick shakes his head and looks at me. "Claire."
"How are you not cold at all?" I ask incredulously, staring at him, just standing in the rain like it's a balmy seventy-five degrees outside. "You're missing some major nerve endings, Derrick, I really worry about you sometimes, and-"
"Claire." Derrick repeats, and I shut up. He blows out a sigh and looks up at the sky and then back down at me, and I waits him for say something. He takes a step towards me and my heart rate jumps. "Claire."
"Yeah?"
And then his lips are on mine in a kiss, a real kiss, and it's soft and warm and I forget that it's raining and I forget that it's freezing because I can only focus on Derrick, Derrick who's too good at soccer and Derrick who's a twelve and a half out of ten and Derrick whose arms are wrapped around my waist.
We pull apart, but not really, and I mumble, "I guess that takes care of the cold problem." He laughs and smiles and kisses me again, but only for a second before he pulls away.
"We should go inside," he says quietly.
I'm breathing heavily as I nod, even though, suddenly, I don't want to go anywhere.
"because after all
you're my wonderwall"
A/N: can i just tell you they had sex and get it over with? okay, cool. because i had this whole thing written out with like, stuff about how shit aligned with the stars, then i deleted it because it made me wince. (lyrics are from franz ferdinand and oasis)
sorry i've been gone for a while. well, a while considering i used to update almost daily. i just kind of forgot about this. well, not forgot, but you know, one track mind, stuff like that. if you must know, i saw inception three times. it's amazing how cameron from 10 things i hate about you has grown up. and don't even get me started on leo! :D