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a scenario in which ciara is at a track meet on a saturday morning and luke hemmings appears out of no where
(i wrote this at three in the morning)
It is Saturday morning. Nine twenty eight in the fucking morning, to be exact. You would think that I would still be under the covers of my warm, comfy, warm bed. You know, where I could actually retain some body heat.
But no.
Instead, I am at track meet at nine twenty eight in the fucking morning. It is thirty god damn degrees outside and my toes are going to freeze off. And the sun. The fucking sun that is so brilliantly shining down on my flawless face and it's making it really hard to see anything right now.
The meet doesn't start until nine thirty, but I still have to sit down on these cold ass bleachers because I decided to do distance because I can't sprint for shit. For this, I have to wait about three fucking hours just to run for a little more than six minutes. Why the hell do I even play track.
Nine twenty nine.
“Last call for Boys 100m dash. Boys, 100m dash.” a bleary, nasal voice resonated through the cold air.
Nine thirty.
“Take your mark.”
BANG!
I flinched as the sound of a gunshot rang in my ears. I'll only have to flinch 50 more times today before it's over.
--
Eleven thirty one.
“SECOND CALL FOR GIRLS 1600M RUN. GIRLS 1600M RUN.” This voice is fucking irritating.
I stopped with my drills along with my fellow teammates, one of them being my lovely friend Phoebe. I start to get nervous.
“Phoebe. Oh good god. What if I fall. What if I trip and die and humiliate myself in front of all of these people. Look at their eyes. Full of judgment.” I start rambling.
“Ciara. Shut the fuck up. Didn't you hear what Sydney did last season? She ran her race without a fucking shoe. A fucking shoe. Half shoeless. You'll be fine.” she assures.
I scan the crowd, looking for any familiar faces that would want to watch a track meet. I see my parents. Hi mom, dad, fetus number one, fetus number two. Hey, there's Luke Hemmin- wait a second. Why the fuck is Luke Hemmings here. Is that Calum? Michael? Ashton?
I rub my eyes and look at the same spot. They're still there! And attractive as hell!
Fuck. I'm hallucinating. I love them so much I'm starting to see shit. Good god.
“Ciara! What's taking you so long? We have to line up for our event!” Phoebe limps over to me after doing a two mile warm up. She suddenly does that stupid grin she does when she's scheming something. She better not be scheming something. “Did you see a cute boy in the crowd?” She starts to scan the crowd for any potential lovers.
My face heats up. “Uh, no. Ha-ha. What are you talking about-” I stutter.
“HEY, ISN'T THAT CALCIUM FROM THAT FIVE SAUCE BAND YOU LIKE.” she starts waving with both of her arms outstretched above her head to Calum like she's trying to catch the attention of a ship a mile away. He sees her and excitedly waves back with a stupidly cute smile. Why is he encouraging this behavior. I'll kill him.
“PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” I swing her arms back down to her side. I tug her arm in the direction of the starting line. “Let's go, before you embarrass yourself more.”
“BYE CALCIUM, I LOVE YOU!” she wails.
A number of irrelevant events happen after the 5sos spotting, and I'm suddenly at the starting line along with ten other girls my age. We're all in starting position with our hands on our watches, ready to push the start button at any second. I slightly wiggle my front foot on the track.
“Take your mark.” some old dude said. He was holding a teeny handgun above his head. I wonder if there's an actual bullet in there. Maybe it's a blank. But why is it so loud. Why is he so loud. Why is everything so loud. You know what I want to know? It's only like fifty degrees up in this joint but the god damn sun is blinding me. Why is it blinding me. You tryna pick a fight with me, you bastard? I'll knock you down with all of your other little star friends.
BANG!
GOD FUCKING DAMMIT WHY IS IT SO LOUD- oh oops the race started. WAIT GUYS, WAIT FOR ME
STOP RUNNING SO FAST- WOULD YOU STOP FUCKING ELBOWING ME WITH YOUR CRUSTY ASS ELBOWS. I push this girl to the side and take a few quick steps to get out of the mob.
Now I'm in the middle of the pack. Great. How am I supposed to win now.
Three laps to go.
This is starting to hurt a bit. A lot of bit. Ooh, some bitch just fell. I may or may not have pushed her.
I start to breathe heavily. This is getting hard. I have to speed up. Pick up the pace.
Two laps.
I could hear the noises around me drown out as my brain started to blank and my feet moved on their own. Like I was in a trance or something. I didn't care what place I finished in at that point.
One lap. Final lap. It's the final lap.
Something took me out of my trance though. I was rounding the last curve when I hear a beautiful voice scream, “HURRY, CIARA! YOU'RE IN THIRD PLACE! CATCH THOSE TWO GIRLS! CATCH THEM!”
Who is that? That sounds a lot like Luke Hemmings. I turn my head and see him standing up with his hands cupping the side of his mouth, as if they were acting as amplifiers.
“SPRINT, CIARA! SPRINT!” I saw him yell again.
Maybe he'll fall in love with me if I place first. I look ahead to see the two girls in front of me. Second place girl looks like she's about to pass out, I can see her slowing down. First place girl isn't changing her speed but she looks kind of dead.
My stride and turnover increases. I'm at the point of sprinting and I feel like I'm flying. I pass the second girl to her right. The first girl is within fifty meters of the finish line.
Bitch, no. I will fucking conquer you.
My arms start pumping really fast. Hella fast. They're starting to get kind of sore now.
“HURRY THE FUCK UP, CIARA! CATCH HER!” I hear Phoebe shout. Then I hear cowbells. She better not be ringing those god damn cowbells, she knows how much I hate those. I'll shove that damn cowbell down her throat, right after I take this bitch down.
I mustered enough energy to finally catch up to the first girl. Then I push her off of the track. Bye, bitch. No one will miss you.
I skid to a stop two meters away from the finish line. I get down on my belly and put my arms at my sides. I start rolling towards the finish line while screaming “ROLL. TO. THE FINISH LINE.”
The crowd goes silent. I get up and brush the asphalt from my butt. Then the crowd erupts into cheers. I don't hear much, I'm kind of dizzy. Really dizzy. I don't sprint but I just sprinted about one hundred meters my legs are sore what are legs.
“Hey, girlie, good race.”
I look up and see Luke fucking Hemmings congratulating me. He ruffled my sweaty hair. “That was fast. You're hella great. And hella cute.”
I look at the time on the big ass score board. Six minutes flat. Nice, Ciara. Nice.
I look back at Luke. He's so cute.
He's suddenly chuckling. Why is he chuckling. "Thanks. I get that a lot."
I SAID LUKE HEMMINGS IS SO CUTE. RIGHT TO HIS FACE. OH MY FUCKING GOD. HOW FUCKING MORTIFYING.
Might as well follow through with the whole mortification shit.
"Hey, can I have a selfie with you?" I suddenly blurt.
“Hella.”
Then we take a selfie with his phone. When he was about to take the shot, he suddenly pressed his lips against my cheek. I got a peck on the cheek by Luke Hemmings, motherfuckers.
I don't remember anything after seeing the selife myself. Phoebe claims that i passed out right on the track from Luke Hemmings and fatigue and almost got ran over by some girls. Whatever. My life is complete.
but today while working at the booth in the vendor hall, my mom appeared and came up to me with an incredibly paranoid look on her face. she had suspiciously shifty eyes and was reaching slowly into her purse. it was actually kinda scary. then she whispers to me, "don't ever say i never broke the law for you" and handed me a bag of funyans.
