Author: Dreamers-Requiem PM
How many sporting metaphors can you use for love?Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Tragedy - Words: 885 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 3 - Published: 08-23-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2712818
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Number 51 – SportRebecca's hands gripped the bat tightly as she stepped up the plate, eyes fixed on the figure standing in the centre, hand holding the ball as he got ready to throw. They stared at each other, taking in the guarded eyes, the tense bodies, the hands at the ready.
"Are we really going to do this again?"
His voice was full of annoyance, his head tilted to one side as he watched her.
"I could do this all night baby." She replied, adding a flick of her golden blonde hair for good measure.
"You need to stop doing this." His arm wound backwards, getting ready to throw. "You have to stop looking for attention all the time." The ball was released, flying through the air at her.
She swung the bat. "You're the one giving it to me. In every sense of the word." Thwack! The ball connected, he winced as the ball flew out the park.
She shoots; she scores; verbally, she had scored a home run.
She stood in front of the goal, closely guarding it. He moved from one end of the pitch to the other, weaving in and out of the other players, flying past those in his way. She was determined he would not break through. She was a great goalkeeper. She never used to be, shot after shot had been scored against her and each time she felt like she had been knocked back. Her heart had been chipped too many times.
She had since built up the barriers, and would now not allow them to break through. She'd done well too, but he wasn't bad at the game. Somehow he managed to find his way through the defences and break them down.
But she couldn't let him score, couldn't let him bury his way into her skin and her life. All ties had to be thin, easily severed.
His eyes sparkled as he drew back his foot.
She leapt to the right, the ball skimmed her fingertips and sailed into the back of the net.
She swore and cursed and tried to push him away.
It was too late. She was in love.
They grabbled with each other, tumbling over and over, the same routine. He threw insults at her like punches, she managed to block every shot, returning with double force. A kick here, a kick there.
"Dick." She grinned through the mask of indifference as she leapt at him, grabbing him from behind and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't be jealous honey; just because you can't have all of me."
He slipped out of her grip, turning around and pinned her against the rope. "Don't be stupid, I already have you."
Her hands reached out and grasped at the back of his head, fingers entwining in his hair, pulling him close. Their faces inches from each other, both panting heavily, she smiled.
"Really? What makes you think that?"
"I don't need to think about it." Easily he picked her up, slammed her to the ground and held her there, his body draped over her own. "I just know that you are mine – body and soul."
Like a pair of ice skaters they went through the same routine again and again. Oddly, neither minded the insults and the fights because they built up their passion, made their lives interesting and exciting. Their bodies moved together, their feet drifting over the ice, ignoring the cracks slowly building up because they knew that as long as they kept moving, it wouldn't matter.
She twirled around him, taunting him. He caught her, lifted her up and made her feel like she really was on top of the world.
Together they went through the motions, relishing those moments when they were both unguarded and vulnerable, when something caught on the ice and she almost fell, he'd be there to catch her. Because moments like that were so rare. When something crashed into him and sent him tumbling, she followed, by his side to guide him and get him back on his feet.
At the same time, they were happy with the majority of the movements. They were not graceful or elegant, mostly they were rushed and unpredictable. But they were together.
Part of her cheered as the cars went round, circle after circle, racing each other. She was concentrating on him, on the bright red car that could not help but catch her attention. Reckless, he spun in a circle and her cheer caught in her throat.
She screamed, the roar breaking through and freezing everything.
She'd seen him crashing towards the end, had seen how he really did not care for his own safety.
But he should have, because it meant that he had left her alone.
Rebecca collapsed on the floor as the policewoman put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "I'm so sorry." She whispered.
She could not understand, Rebecca thought. Could not see. Her life had come to a stop.
Halftime had come and gone, and she hadn't noticed. She never even told him she loved him. Now the game, their constant sport, was over.
She was alone.
There would be no more moments with him.