Leo, Amie (OC), Michael (OC)/ America / Angst

Leo waited patiently, listening to the boring connecting tone. He hated the monotony. He wish she'd pick up sooner.

But she didn't. It was three in the afternoon, and the sun had taken its place in the middle of the cloudless blue sky. Leo had an idea of what she was doing. He gazed upwards, at the endless sky, and gave a gloomy sigh.

She seemed to enjoy not being around him. Perhaps she preferred their company over his. He felt a disconcerting pang in his gut. It confused him. What kind of feeling was that, that he had never felt before? What kind of girl was she, to make him feel this way?

*           *           *

Amie waited patiently, as Michael put his cleats on, listening to the meaningless banter of the other guys. She hated the gossip. She wish they'd stop.

But they didn't. It was three in the afternoon, and so bloody hot. It was not optimal weather for a frisbee game, but at least the field was not as muddy as it was a few days ago.

She gripped the edge of the pale blue disc and threw a backhand. It flew steadily onto the field, countershaded with the clear sky. It was beautiful. She felt a hungry passion in her gut. It consumed her.

*           *           *

Michael waited patiently, while Amie ran to catch the disc that he threw. It wasn't a good throw, but she was a good catcher. He listened to her cheers and excitement when she had caught the disc. He hated when she stopped. He wish she'd laugh forever.

But she didn't. It was three in the afternoon, and the brilliant sunshine could not compare to her smile.

He ran and caught the curved forehand that she threw. She frowned in frustration at the bad throw, whined, and came over to him, demanding instructions. Michael felt a turbulent flurry in his gut. It controlled him, as he held her hand, trying to teach her how to use more wrist in the throws.

Ah, so these must be the notorious butterflies.

*           *           *

Leo made his way to the spectator stand to the right of the vast field. He felt out of place. This was not his area right now. He'd rather be in the studio, listening to recordings and practicing them. He'd rather be in the dance studio, perfecting difficult choreographies. The field made him, the forgotten athlete, feel foreign and unaccepted.

The field brought back bad memories, of sweating men in perspired-through jerseys, unbearable body odors and wet, inconsistent fields. The field brought back bad memories of sharp studs piercing his lower calf in a powerful sliding tackle - boots of a filthy player who had intended the penalty.

It was five in the evening, and Amie looked tired. Her hair was braided to the side, a simple Dutch braid. Her fringe flopped about on her forehead. Leo loved Amie's hair. He loved how natural and smooth and long and pretty it was.

Amie flashed an illuminating smile at Michael as she caught the frisbee he threw at the end point. Damn. The unsettling pang arrived again. Leo sulked on the bleachers, watching a girl who was obviously oblivious of his presence.

Leo was not used to it. Everywhere, there were women falling at his feet - pleas for a chance, promises for a good time, cries for a little sympathy. But this girl, what kind of girl was she, that he had to chase her?

His eyes were still fixed on her, as she swiftly covered the entire breadth of the field to catch the descending frisbee. She caught it, and prepared for the next throw to Michael. Her backhand throw had the perfect amount of wrist, and flew straight to Michael.

But it seemed nature had different ideas.

A sudden strong gust picked the frisbee up, and danced with its edges, causing it to curve and return.

Directly headed for Leo. On the bleachers.

Leo's eyes widened, and he reached out to grab it, barely catching it in the last second, just inches in front of his face. Cheers errupted from the field, and Amie's teammates started poking fun at her, causing the tinge of pink that he loved to emerge onto her cheeks.

Leo smirked directly at her, and the pink turned into a bright red as she collapsed in embarrassment.

Damn, that girl is dangerous.

by winter