Carmen's POV

"Carmen, hold up!"

I turn around, the strap of my duffel bag falling from my shoulder as I do. My coach, Austin, jogs towards me, his own bag over his shoulder. Matching, of course, since they're the team's bags. I notice for the millionth time since practice started that the scruffy hair on this face looks really good, and I find myself hoping he doesn't shave.

"Hey," I greet. He's 6'4, so he doesn't tower over me but I have to look up to talk to him all the same.

"I wanted to talk to you about something. Are you walking somewhere?"

"To the bus stop," I tell him.

"Let me bring you home, we can talk in my car."

His warm smile is inviting and while he's obviously just trying to be nice for some reason my guard goes up and I want to say no. But this is just my coach, and I have no reason to be wary. He just wants to talk.

"Sure," I say.

He starts talking about his car then, apologizing that it's so old and gross but assuring me that he's going to replace it soon. The new car will have some sort of bigger engine with all kinds of cool features that I don't get or care about. When I climb in I realize, though, that his car is old and dirty and the seats are torn. Not that it really matters. He's got a car, doesn't he? I don't have a car.

"Sorry," he says again, turning the key in the ignition.

"It's fine, I really don't care."

"So, I wanted to talk to you," he says, pulling out onto the road. "Where's your house?"

"It's on Maple, number fifty-seven."

"Okay. So anyway, I wanted to ask about your serving." We practice serving every practice, but today we spent almost an hour on it because Austin refuses to lose points on something so basic. "I noticed you practicing your jump serve a few times. Did you jump serve last season?"

"No, I couldn't do it consistently last season. Our coach thought it was a little risky, so Kayla was really the only one that did it."

"Yours is impressive," he continues. "You'll be using it tomorrow, right?"

I shift uncomfortably. "I'm not sure."

"Carmen, it's the best jump on the team. You see the power you get behind the ball, right? It's impressive and I can't imagine anyone having an easy time passing that," he says, shaking his head a little. "Guys on the team when I played couldn't even serve like that."

Austin is a former USC player, graduated five years ago. He went on to win a bronze at a world championship, and he ended up at tryouts for the olympic team. Then he blew his knee and ended up back here, coaching the women's team. He's extremely handsome; scruffy beard, chocolate brown eyes, dark hair, tall, lined with a perfect amount of muscle. He's an athlete through and through.

"I don't know if I-"

"Carmen, I don't like to be the tyrant coach, but I want you to jump serve tomorrow. I know it's not your comfort zone, but it's a great weapon for us."

"Austin, I've never used it in a game. I'm not sure if the home opener is the best place to try." USC students get pretty intense about our volleyball games. I don't want to get mugged in the parking lot for missing my serves.

"Alright, then if you want you can do a regular one for your first rotation back there, but after that I want to see you jumping."

He pulls up to my house and puts the car in park. I'm mulling over all the possible ways for me to fail now. Hitting the net, hitting the ball into the stands, missing completely, tripping as I jump and face-planting on the court. Hideous possibilities.

"If you're way too nervous, I'll spare you," he says, laughing a little. I try to smile, but I take this too seriously. "You're one of the best players we've got, Carmen. We need to use every strength you can give us."

"I'll practice them tomorrow," I offer. "Do you think I could get into the gym early in the morning? No one is in there because of the game, right?"

"People might be setting up, but if you go at seven you should get some alone time. Here." He reaches back into the back seat, digging through his bag. I'm not sure if it's his natural scent or some kind of cologne, but he smells incredible. He gets out a ring of keys and takes one off. "This will get you in. I need it back at the game, though, alright?"

"Thanks." I smile and reach for the door handle.

"Don't throw out your shoulder," he warns. "If you're just serving, I don't want you in there longer than an hour, got it?"

"All right." I push open the door and climb out, bending down to see him. "Thanks for the ride, Austin."

"Any time. See you at the game!"

I nod and swing the door shut. That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. When I turn around to go up to my house I find Liam sitting on the front step. He stands and watches Austin's car drive away.

"Who was that?" he asks protectively.

"My coach."

"He drove you home alone?"

"Liam, relax. It's not a big deal, he wanted to talk to me about the game tomorrow."

He nods and I step around him to unlock the front door. Most of the team goes out for dinner after practice before game-days, but I decided not to go. Now my head is swimming with all the possible ways for me to fuck up tomorrow and lose the game for everyone.

When we walk inside Liam follows me to my room.

"Do you want to do something tonight?" he asks. "I was thinking we could go to one of those dumb poetry slam things."

"Why?" I laugh. I set my bag down and check my phone. No calls from my Dad. Why hasn't he called? It's almost been two months sine I've heard from him.

"Carmen."

"What?" I look over at Liam now sitting on my bed. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Everything okay?"

I bite my lip and look at my phone again. I never actually told Liam my family situation. All he knows is that my Dad always travels for work. He doesn't know his job is military. I don't know why I never told him, but I didn't.

"Yeah, fine," I lie.

"Carms, what's up?" he asks, standing and walking over to me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and I stare at his chest. My throat is tight and now I'm thinking about everything that could be happening to my father right now. Most prominent thought? That he was killed and no one has even contacted me.

"Let's go to that poetry thing," I suggest. When I look up at him and I can see the worry in his eyes. "I'm fine, I just need a distraction."

He sighs. "Okay."

"I'm just going to shower, I'll be right back."

So many possibilities swirl around in my mind while I take what I was hoping would be a calming shower. My dad, the game tomorrow, all the things that could go wrong. Harry even sneaks his way into my thoughts.

It's been a few days since I left Harry standing in the parking lot at Louis' family restaurant. I know I was unreasonably harsh, but he had a false sense of hope in thinking I was going to come around and want to hang out with him or something. I probably planted that in his mind; kissing him back during that game and letting him watch a movie with me in my room probably made me seem more open to the idea than I actually am. And I'm not open at all. I'm not interested in Harry, despite the fact that I think about him a lot and I always wonder what he's doing. Part of me is a little disappointed that he gave up so easily. I haven't seen him since Monday and I don't want that to dissatisfy me. I want to be glad that he finally took me seriously. But I don't think that I am and that terrifies me.

Boys have always been a burden I've been happy to unload whenever I can. It happened a few times last year; I'd meet a guy at a party and we'd end up kissing, and after that they thought I loved them or something because suddenly I had a second shadow. Telling them once that I would never be interested in them always worked, and it was always a relief to know they wouldn't be following me around anymore. My situation with Harry isn't having that effect, though.

I find myself wondering what he's doing, how he is, if he's thinking about me. Why hasn't he tried to talk to me, or at least texted? I mean sure, I shut him down completely, but that doesn't mean you just give up. Liam said he liked me a lot, so I don't understand-

A loud pounding on the door interrupts the insanity spewing from my mind.

"Carmen, hurry up!" Liam shouts.

I roll my eyes and turn off the water, stepping out and wrapping a towel around myself. I apply a little mascara and then pull my clothes on. I chose tight black skinny jeans and a loose pale pink blouse that's shorter in the front than in the back so that a little bit of my stomach shows. I dry my hair a little and put some mousse in so that it drives a little wavy instead of it's usual boring board straight.

"Took you long enough," Liam says when I walk in. He's lounging on my bed, as usual.

"Stop complaining, I'm ready. Let's go."

---

The shouting when we walk into the cafe near campus is startling to me and I have to resist the urge to cover my ears. Liam just laughs and leads me through the people, towards a table near the left wall of the room. I'm not sure how the chairs are empty since there's so many people standing, but the two leather chairs that wait for us are on either side of a small table.

"I'm going to get a coffee, do you want anything?" Liam asks.

"Latte."

When he walks away I turn back to the angry boy on the stage. He's scrawny with long greasy hair, his baggy jeans ripped at the knees with a shirt that reads something offensive, I'm sure. He seems like the type of person that would sit in a tree all night to keep it from being cut down. I'm not sure why Liam wanted to come here, but I guess it is a good distraction for me. Though, incessantly checking my phone proves that it can't distract me from my Dad.

I scan the room, surprised by all the different people that are here. I expected mostly one type, really. The art majors, the kids with something to rage about I guess. But there are all kinds of kids here, a few I recognize from my own classes. Not that I speak to them, but I recognize them all the same.

My heart almost stops when I see a familiar face across the room. Harry is sitting at a high table, leaning his elbows on it while he stairs at the boy on stage. He seems bored out of his mind, constantly running his hand through his hair, checking his watch, and fiddling with his rings or necklace. When he runs his fingers over his bottom lip I feel my stomach clench.

"Here." Liam sets a mug down beside me and I jump, torn out of my gazing. I glare at him instantly.

"Liam, why did you bring me here?" I ask sharply.

"I...thought it would be funny," he says, though it sounds more like a question than an answer. I look across the room at Harry and here Liam make a sound when he realizes what I'm accusing him of. "I didn't know he'd be here, Carmen, I swear."

"Really?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "Liam, if you-"

"I didn't know," he repeats. "He wasn't even around when I was home today, I haven't spoken to him. I swear, I had no idea."

I stare at him a little and when I decide he isn't lying I slump back into my chair. Part of me really wants him to notice me here, and the other part of me just wants to disappear.

"Why do you care so much that he's here?" Liam prods. Someone in front of us shushes him and I laugh.

"I don't."

"Right, that's why you practically ripped my head off two seconds ago."

I just take a sip of my latte and stare at the stage. Another person has come up now, asking if anyone else would like to go. College kids will do anything, it's amazing really. We're like our own species of human. When I look back over at Harry his green eyes lock with mine. His half smile with only one dimple pulls at his lips and he nods to me. I try to smile back, but I'm not sure what it looked like and I don't want to know.

"He's coming over here," Liam whispers. My eyes go wide and Liam just laughs.

"Shit," I mutter. When I look in front of me again Harry is making his way towards us. He smiles and takes an empty wooden chair from beside Liam for himself.

"Hey guys," he says. No one else has gone on stage, so people are talking in regular voices. He smiles broadly at me and I feel those same butterflies in my stomach that I did when he kissed me at Liam's.

"Since when do you go to poetry slams?" Liam asks. He shrugs. "That last one was something, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, did you notice the part where he was acting out some rather inappropriate movements?" Liam and I both start laughing, shaking our heads. Harry smiles at me again. "Lucky."

"Someone else is going up," Liam says. Harry looks at the stage and stands.

"I'll leave you guys, then," he says. "Enjoy your evening."

My stupid brain can't form a coherent thought until he's at least ten feet away and out of speaking range. When I look over at Liam I can see he's trying not to laugh at what was probably the only awkward moment I've ever had in front of him.

"Shut up," I mutter. When I look back at Harry he's speaking to someone. Just across his small table is a girl. She's got short brown hair that sits on her shoulders, she looks quite small, with black framed glasses and a mint green blazer. She looks like an artsy type, probably the reason he came here.

Holy fuck, he's on a date.

My eyes shoot back and forth between them a few times as a sickening feeling grows in my stomach, one I've never felt before. What did I expect, that I'd keep shooting him down and he'd keep coming back? Even Harry doesn't have that much confidence.

"I need some air," I tell Liam. He gives me a worried look as he nods his head, and I text him saying I'll be back in a minute so he doesn't feel the need to come after me.

I sit with my head in my hands on a bench outside the cafe. What is wrong with me? I already told Harry that I'm not interested and I'm not. Interested, I mean. Sure, he's cute and funny and nice and he's got this way of making me feel sort of special I guess, but I don't like him. I don't do that, I don't do boyfriends or dates. I don't even really have friends, except for Liam and Ivy and my team. That's all. I don't need anyone else, so why do I feel like this?

I hear the door open and close next to me. When the other space on the bench becomes occupied I lift my head from my hands, surprised to see Harry sitting next to me.

"Hey," he says, unsure of himself.

"Hi."

"Umm..." He scratches the back of his neck, a habit I find adorable and endearing. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

I stare at him for a moment, his genuinely concerned expression rising guilt in my chest. "Why do you care, Harry? I've been nothing but a bitch to you, why do you keep doing this?"

"Keep doing what?"

I close my eyes and shake my head, looking away from him. "Nevermind. You should go back inside to your date. She's probably wondering where you are."

He sighs and I feel him lean back against the bench. He doesn't get up, though. When I look over at him he's just watching me. Even his eyes make me nervous. When do eyeballs make me nervous? Never.

"Quit staring at me," he says lowly, smirking at me. I laugh a little and roll my eyes.

"You were staring at me first."

He laughs. "One, you can't prove that. Two, you're really easy to stare at, so I blame you."

I sit back next to him, now aware that his arm is along the back of the bench. I can also feel him staring at the side of my head.

"Her name is Lily," he says after a minute. Fucking Lily, what a pretentious name. "And I'm not on a date with her."

"You're not?" I ask a little too eagerly. My head whips to the side towards him and he smiles as my face heats. Way to be subtle, Carmen.

"I'm not," he confirms. "She's a friend from an art class I took last year."

"You took an art class?"

"Don't sound so surprised, I'm a very well rounded individual."

I laugh. "Sure you are."

"I am. I passed by about two percent, but that's not the point. Anyway, I hadn't seen her in a while and she invited me here because she's going to be doing a reading later. She's quite good, actually, not like those other idiots that just yell about nothing."

I nod and feel myself relax, the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach fading. Harry has friends, of course he does. He's not like me, he doesn't shut people out of his life.

"Were you jealous, Carmen?" he asks quietly. I look over to him quickly, that same smirk on his face.

"No," I say too quickly. He chuckles. "I am not jealous, Harry."

"Okay," he laughs. I stand and shake my head. "Come on, I'm joking."

"You know what? You don't-" I stop short and just stare at him. Why do I need to act like this around him? I don't. I don't need to be a bitch, I don't need to be overly defensive. I just don't. It's so unnecessary and Harry is just trying to..be my friend. Maybe. I guess.

"You look beautiful, by the way," Harry says, standing from the bench. He's about three inches taller than me and I realize that it's the perfect height. It would be so easy to kiss him from here. "I forgot to mention that."

"How silly of you," I mumble. My eyes flicker to his lips in a moment of weakness and I see his eyes go wide when he realizes.

"Right." He clears his throat. "So, I should get back in there."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." I don't want him to go.

"All right. I'll umm...I'll see you, I guess."

I nod and he looks at me for a moment. Then he shakes his head and turns toward the door. I wait a few moments after he's gone to slow my heartbeat and make myself appear more collected than the scrambling mess I feel on the inside.

Notes

woooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i dont know.
i love this story. i like writing it. its fun. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT TOO!! cuz if you didn't thatd be really sad.

so yeaaaa some comments would be fantastic :)

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