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It's across the hallway that Travis sees Natalie. Not for the first time, but one of the many, many times that he's thought about what would happen if he went over there, if he tried to say something to her, even just a single word.
He has stood here and thought that very thought so many times. Every day in a week, sometimes, even more. Today is another day where he spots her in his peripheral, and where he wonders if the girl with the leather jacket and dark purple stained lips, if he could say hi to her and if she would say hi back, if he could do it without stammering, without his entire body fucking shaking or without doing something really stupid, like throwing up on her.
It's the same scenario that spins in his head every single day, the one that stops him from every actually taking a step in her direction and doing the very thing that's playing on repeat in his brain, even though he wants to.
He wants to know if he could do it, if he would embarrass himself, if she would ignore him or not. He really, really hopes she wouldn't, but he backs out today, like he does every other day of the week, because Natalie Scatorccio has no reason to talk to him or even acknowledge his existence, she never has, so that isn't about to change today, either, just because he wants it to happen.
And really, what would he even say? He's pretty sure he'd sound stupid no matter what would end up coming out his mouth.
He doesn't walk up to her and gets her attention and tells her she's pretty, because she doesn't need him to tell her that, surely. Maybe he could walk up to her and talk to her about soccer, except that he doesn't know shit about soccer, and the two times he tried to play he fell over himself and probably disappointed his dad again, so that's out of the question, too.
Maybe he could go over there and tell her he watched her during the last game he went with his father, except that makes him sound like a total fucking creep, so Travis stays at his locker, watching the girl pass by with her teammates and wishing there was a world where he was brave enough to do something as normal as starting a conversation. He's not used to being brave. Never really learned how to be whatever it is his dad means when he talks about being a real man, and maybe that's why he's nursing a crush in silence, on a girl who would never look his way, even if they were born in a different place or a different world entirely.
It's fine, really. He shouldn't be worrying about it so much, except that he does, a lot of the time, and he lies awake on a Sunday night again this week, blocking out the sound of his parents screaming at each other and turning up his music as loud as possible, rehearsing what it is he'll say to Natalie the day he magically, miraculously learns how to be brave. He figures it's bound to happen next week, or maybe the week after that.
It doesn't happen this month, or the next, either, of course. He's starting to think that bravery is some imaginary concept someone made up ages ago, and that everyone just pretends to know what it means and how to do it and never stopped to let him in on the secret.
If he had even just an ounce of it in his body, he would've gone up to Natalie last time he had tagged along with his father to practice, told her how good she played, and it would sound stupid, but he would mean it. She would roll her eyes and hopefully laugh, hopefully tell him she knows, and ask for his name. He would think about an interaction like that for weeks, except it would actually be real and not just a daydream of what he might do if he was brave and not scared to embarrass himself in front of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, but he is.
If he was brave, he wouldn't take all his father's shit and freeze up inside. He wouldn't stay quiet and bow his head and act like he was okay with it, tell him yes, sir and beat himself up for it for day, take a slap to the face and remind himself that it could be worse and be grateful that it isn't one of his really, really bad days.
Bravery sounds nice. He would bet Natalie is brave. The girl who is confident enough to be herself and speak up and somehow not care about all the horrible things people whisper behind her back, act like she doesn't hear it, Travis wishes he could even have half of the kind of bravery that takes.
So, today is a new day of finding Natalie in the hallway, gazing over the crowd of people and resting his eyes on her laughing with her friends, wondering what he would say to make her laugh. Laugh in a he's actually kind of funny, in a pathetic kind of way, not the he's a fucking loser kind of way. Yeah, that would be nice.
He watches her from across the hall until she disappears again, and it's another day where he doesn't speak a word and regrets it as soon as the moment passes, even though he knows there was no intention in his heart to actually cross that distance and try to do it in the first place.
He knows that it's a fantasy he's entertaining, and that he should probably give it up on it soon. Tomorrow, he tells himself. He'll give up on it tomorrow.
Until then, he can have it, wonder about how his name would sound in her voice, and how it would feel to have one of her smiles directed at him, only at him. It's something that could only exist in another life, he thinks, and what a perfect life that would be.
Travis sees Natalie on the field, yet another day where he and Javi wait around for their father to finish practice, another day their mother's working a night shift, so he's got no choice, really, than to stick around on the bleachers while his dad does the only thing that's ever brought any joy into his life, he's pretty sure.
He supposes this would be a good opportunity to catch up on his homework. It's a pretty perfect place for it, since the team probably doesn't even notice him there. He'd bet his dad probably doesn't, either, most of the time. It's fine, though, the girls are focused on their game, and they're good at it, judging by the amount of wins and trophies the school prides themselves on, not because he's got any actual expertise on the matter.
If he was anyone else, he'd probably also use this opportunity to watch the game closer, try to turn it into some kind of son and father bonding experience, try to see if some of that soccer knowledge can rub off on him, cheer on them, maybe, if he was brave enough.
Travis has never been the kind of person who can pretend to care about things he doesn't care about, though, and he doesn't care much for connecting emotionally with his dad about anything at all, so he doesn't. He doesn't give much of a fuck about his dad's job or passions or interests, but he cares about catching a glimpse of Natalie running across the field, razor sharp focus in her eyes, her feet carrying her at a speed that has him feeling breathless just watching from the sidelines.
She looks happy out there. She looks like she's exactly where she's supposed to be, with the wind in her hair and sweat on her brow, cheering loudly and effortlessly scoring another goal, another, another. Travis smiles as another victorious smile spreads across her features, hiding it behind the book he hasn't been paying attention to.
Javi has passed out next to him, and Travis is looking at the girl from the hallways who has never looked back at him, but that's okay. The first time his father dragged him to practice, he'd wanted to be brave and protested and thrown a fit and taken the consequences of it, no matter how immature he'd know it'd actually be, but he swallowed that desire down in an instant, because Natalie is here, and there is a privilege here, getting to watch her in her true element, getting to pretend like he isn't just here because his father needs to pretend like he's a responsible parent for a while.
Travis knows it's all in his imagination, and it's another daydream, and that's okay, too. He wonders what would happen if he walked up to her after practice is over and told her that she's really good, but that would sound idiotic, because she already knows that, and what good would a compliment on her skills do from him, of all people?
Of all his imaginary conversation starters, that's probably the worst one. It's so dumb, and he rolls his eyes at himself, and he's glad he's not brave enough to even try that one out, because they'd all probably laugh in his face for that one.
He wonders what would happen if he walked up to her, since she probably didn't even notice him sitting there, she probably doesn't know who he is, and he wonders if it would be stupid to introduce himself. Why would she care about who he is, either? The coach's son, who's only ever there out of force, who doesn't know the furthest thing about the thing she's passionate about, the thing she spends hours every day training for. Yeah, right, she'd definitely want to associate with someone like that. Right.
Travis can have this, then, another excuse to admire Natalie from afar, another excuse to pretend like the distance between them isn't as great as it seems, that she doesn't seem oceans and planets and universes away, even thought it feels like it.
If he's being honest, he doesn't think he was never made to join the world she walks in and the world she lives in and the world she creates, but he supposes that's okay, he'll make peace with it and pretend like it's okay, soon enough.
For now, he'll flip another page he hasn't read and pretend like he understands any of the words on it, and pretend like he hasn't just been following the girl on the field with his eyes for the whole time, wondering what it would feel like if she looked back at him.
He sees Natalie tonight, long after practice has finished, a thing that has never, ever happened before. Travis is used to practice running late, and he's used to his dad disappearing to God knows where, and he's used to having to drive himself and his brother home and keep all the things he wants to say to his father on the inside, shove his anger under his bed and under lock and key again, like he always does, but today, today is different.
It's not just because the rain has started pouring, but because he sees Natalie, the girl from the hallway, the girl from the field, standing outside long after the rest of her team has left school grounds.
Travis is pretty eager to get home with the unpleasant way his soaked clothes are clinging to his skin, making him feel itchy and gross and wrong, but he never has the heart to wake up his little brother, who can fall asleep anywhere and sleep like a rock anywhere that isn't his bed at home, for some reason. So, he carries a sleeping Javi on his back out to the parking lot as the water sloshes in his shoes, and he only falters for a second, maybe a minute, maybe, when he suddenly finds they're not alone.
Natalie stands there in the rain, face illuminated by the overhead lights, a half-smoked cigarette squished into the ground, arms crossed as if she's hugging herself through the cold and wet and dread.
Travis can feel the cold crawling under his clothes, seeping into his skin, scratching at his bones, but he stops in his tracks, anyways. He wonders if this is another daydream of his, if he doesn't know the difference between them and reality anymore, but it feels pretty real, especially with the weight of his brother on his back and his snoring in his ear, and he fumbles too long until he drops his keys, and for the very first time, Natalie looks at him.
The girl says nothing as he picks them up and unlocks his dad's old car, trying hard to balance Javi without dropping him, too, and he can only wonder how stupid he must look.
It takes him more than a minute, too long, to get his little brother into the car and lie down on the backseat. His body is limp in his grasp and he barely stirs, just talks absentmindedly in his slumber, clings onto Travis tightly, as if he's refusing, as if they're two made into one, by now, like he's the lifeboat and Javi is his lone passenger. With this downpour, he wouldn't be surprised if they'd need a lifeboat, sooner or later.
He curses himself for forgetting a blanket again, so his brother will have to sleep with Travis' soaked jacket draped over him instead. The boy is shivering, but he buries half his face into the car seat, anyways, not opening his eyes for even a second, breathing remaining ever so steady.
When Travis looks back behind him, Natalie is looking at him, still. For the very first time in his life, their eyes meet, and this is not a fantasy, surprisingly enough, shockingly enough, this cannot be fucking real, and yet, it is.
He wonders if this is a miracle. He wonders if it's a good idea to say something, if this is a chance for him to be brave, and he wishes someone would tell him, because he honestly has no fucking idea. He wishes the universe could give him some sort of sign, point him in the right direction, so he didn't have to be brave.
Travis decides to look around instead, at the empty lot and the darkness threatening to swallow it whole, and he looks back at the girl, and he decides, maybe, maybe, he doesn't need to be brave. Maybe he just needs to break the silence in two and see what happens, because he knows he's already looking like an idiot, so he hasn't exactly got much to lose, anyways.
He decides to ask a stupid question. He knows it's stupid, but it's better this way, he thinks, than all the times he's imagined walking up to her and intruding on a space he didn't belong in, so his hand lingers on the car door as he stands in the rain, and he asks her a stupid question.
"Are you waiting for someone?"
The girl lifts her brows, just ever so slightly, maybe she's surprised he even spoke to her at all, that he broke the delicate silence between the created by the night, didn't just drive along, didn't urge to get home. As much as he wants to get Javi home before his brother gets himself a nasty cold, Travis has never exactly been eager to step inside his own house, not for the house, anyways, not for most of what's in it.
So, he asks a stupid question, and he wonders if she will laugh at him. She doesn't.
Natalie juts her chin and tilts her head, and she looks at him for a long time, longer than he'd ever imagined her to. "Not really."
Travis has never imagined a conversation like this, so he's having a hard time carving out a path for it, planning the next words to come out of his mouth. In the end, he tries with, "Do you need a lift?"
He thinks he hears the girl sniff, amidst the rain falling on the ground with heavy tip-taps. She hugs herself tighter.
"It's fine," she sighs, "You don't have to."
Travis looks back at his sleeping brother for a moment, and back at the girl from the hallway. He isn't feeling brave at all, but maybe he can be stubborn. Maybe he can ask another stupid question, because there's a worry scraping at the back of his skull, because he doesn't want to leave the girl from the hallway here, alone in the darkness, and maybe she'll tell him to fuck off, and that would be okay.
He doesn't want to leave her here, doesn't want to think about why she's ended up alone here in the first place. He doesn't want to be the asshole with a car that runs away because a pretty girl makes his tongue tie knots on itself and makes the wires in his brain tangle, even thought it is the very prettiest girl he's ever seen.
"It's not a big deal. Giving you a lift," he tries, "Walking home sounds like a nightmare."
Natalie bites her lip as she stares at him with wider eyes. He hopes she's considering his offer.
"Are you sure you'd want me in your car?" she asks then, "Probably make the whole thing smell like booze."
She mumbles the second part, but Travis hears it and shudders. He's heard people whisper about her enough times, even more times people saying it straight to her face, he knows exactly what she's talking about it, and he doesn't want to think about it.
"You don't smell," he frowns, "Even if you did, I don't care. It's my dad's old car, probably smells like it already. And worse things."
He doesn't mean to tell her that last part, it just sort of fall off his tongue before he can stop it. It's not brave, it's just a thing that happens, and he'd probably want to try and take it back, if the girl didn't flash a smile at him, then. It's a half-smile that grows just a bit wider as he finishes his sentence, and he feels something in the middle of the cold drench, a crackling in his stomach, a spark in the dark, a warmth that's not supposed to be there, but it's somehow survived the weather and the loneliness, anyways, made itself at home.
"Okay," Natalie accepts it, and Travis can't believe his own ears, "You sure coach won't mind if you're late?"
He shrugs. He doesn't give a fuck about what his dad does or doesn't mind.
"I doubt he cares when I get home," he decides to say, leaving out the part where he's pretty sure his father doesn't care if he gets home at all, but that's probably a bit too much to say to a girl he's only admired from afar, the girl on his father's soccer team, the girl who's looking at him. He never thought she'd look at him outside of his dreams.
"Alright."
"You don't have to, I mean-"
"I'm going to."
"Okay," Travis nods quickly, deciding he should probably shut his mouth now.
And so, the girl from the hallway and from the soccer field is now suddenly sitting in his passenger seat, and she's biting down the cold and he doesn't even have a jacket to give her like all those stupid cliché movies, he's so dumb. He's looking at her, and she's looking at him, and his hands are so obviously, clearly shaking from where they're clutching the steering wheel, but at least the rest of his body shivering is his excuse, he can blame it on cold.
He drives her home in silence, only occasionally broken by Natalie giving him directions or some more muttering from the backseat. He thinks he hears Javi say his name in his sleep, but the boy doesn't answer when he asks him if he's okay, so it's probably fine.
The girl smiles again as she glances back at his sleeping form. "How can he even sleep through this?"
Travis tries a chuckle, a weak sound, the opposite of brave, but he smiles, too. "He'll sleep through anything, trust me."
"I'm jealous," Natalie says, and she doesn't elaborate, even though he kind of wishes she would. It makes him curious, it makes him think, it makes him glance at the girl again and hurry to look away, really hoping she didn't notice, even though she probably did, so little space between them, so much closer than he's ever been used to.
"Me too," he says wistfully, because he is. Then again, he leaves out the part about his brother's nightmares and his sleepwalking, because there's no reason to tell Natalie that, even though he feels like she's the right person to say that stuff to.
He doesn't know why. He just feels it, like the little crackling in his stomach, still. He hopes it doesn't disappear anytime soon.
He stops where she tells him to, but the girl hesitates, her hand a ghost on the door handle. Travis doesn't know if he's supposed to say anything, brave or stupid, right or wrong. In the end, she's the one who says something, because she's brave and makes it look all too easy.
"Thank you," she turns to face him, voice barely above a whisper. She probably just did that to not wake up Javi, he supposes. Still, it feels like a secret between them, and he likes it. He can have it, he can pretend, even if it'll never be true.
He nods and gives her another smile, hoping this one looks less like a grimace. "I'm Travis, by the way."
She furrows her brows, just for a moment. "I know."
"Oh," he says, feeling really fucking stupid, then, because he had no idea she even knew his name, no idea why she'd have any reason to.
"I'm Natalie."
"I know you are," Travis replies, his voice cracking, which only makes him feel more like an idiot, but it feels braver than anything else he's ever done in his life, for some reason, "Your last game was really good. You're always good, obviously. I've seen a lot of them."
"I know you have," the girl says easily, and Travis almost chokes on the air in his own lungs, he tries to, as Natalie sighs and opens the door, "Thank you, Travis. Remember to turn your book the right way up next time. Might make it easier."
He turns his head all too fast, gaping in horror as he takes her words in. Fuck. This might be a sign from the universe that he's the biggest idiot ever born. No bravery can save this one.
Natalie smiles, though, strangely enough. She chuckles, even, her eyes lighting up in the dark with something like amusement, and Travis feels his mouth go dry.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says.
"Right," he stammers, definitely not brave, definitely not cool, "Right. Tomorrow."
When she closes the door, he kind of wants to bang his head into the steering wheel, and he probably would, if it wasn't for his still sleeping brother in the backseat, mumbling in his slumber. Travis sighs and runs his stupid hand through his stupid wet hair, instead, continuing down the road, glancing one last time to see the girl from the hallway disappear behind her door, as if out of a dream.
"Stupid," he whispers to himself.
"Stupid," Javi echoes in a sleepy grumble, and Travis almost laughs.
"You don't have to rub it in my face, you know," he tells him, even though he knows his brother won't hear him. The boy says nothing at all, just grunts and pulls his knees to his chest.
Travis can feel the spark in his stomach, still. Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.