One excruciatingly long hour later, Oliver sprawled out placidly in the shadow of a much better athlete. However much it pained him to admit it, Piper James was an incredible athlete, and Thomas James, who looked fair to passing out next to him, was a moron.
Yes, Coach James was a fool. How could he not have known what a wonderfully gifted daughter he had? She stood a foot away, blocking the harsh winter sun from blinding him. Piper James had throttled him at those endurance drills. Whereas he was gasping for air like a fish out of water, PJ was rambling twenty words a second to her eldest brother like she had just gone out to get the mail. It did however, give him a good chance to feast upon her figure. Piper James, it had to be said, had some damn good legs.
Piper was about a foot away, oblivious to Wood’s attentions. In her opinion, she had a just spent an exhilarating hour wiping the floor with the men. Her dad looked fair to passing out, Wood was lying panting not a foot away from her, and Jason was, well, somewhere. The only other person not about to have a coronary was Jensen. Jensen always was the fittest, next to Piper. He had helped Piper to devise the ‘torture’ that everyone had just been put to.
Piper James’ Hour of Cruel and Unusual Punishment:
15 Laps on your broom
30 Laps on your broom
3 minute Side Planks- each side
4 mile run
2 minute Tuck Jumps
2 minute Knee-up Jumps
1 mile run
3 minute Knee-Ups in place
Jensen smiled at the list, thinking about how funny it had been to watch everyone struggle through Piper’s wondrous drills. First of were the Suicides; a muggle basketball drill. People ran from one post, downfield to the center line, then back to the goal lines. 35 times. Then everyone hopped onto their brooms, and went around the scrimmage pitch 15 times. Next up was the killers. Swoops. The victims rested on their hands and feet, with their bodies in a pike position. Butt up, head down. Then they had to bend their elbows, and sequentially, roll the rest of their bodies like a worm, without touching the ground. 30 times. Then came 65 push ups, and 100 sit-ups; followed by 30 laps on their brooms.
More torture convened when the next activity was done. 3 minutes of side planks, on each side. Bodies straight as boards, like planks, were held up by balancing on one straight arm. For three minutes. It was super painful. Terribly funny to watch.
Followed by a four mile jog, then two minutes each of Tuck Jumps, and Knee-Up Jumps. Then 60 more Swoops. One more mile run, then finished off by three minutes of Knee-Up runs in place.
Yes, Jensen thought. Piper’s hour of Torture was very nice. Too bad Dad won’t let her take credit for it.
Having caught his breath, Thomas spoke up. “Well hell kid,” he said, slapping Jensen on the back. “That was some fan-fucking-tastic workout. I’m glad you came up with it.” He turned to acknowledge Piper. “Bit surprised that PJ made it, though. She did alright.” He wiped the sweat off of his brow, and ignored the death glare said daughter was sending his way. “Let’s go on. More drills Jason?” He stomped towards that son, leaving Piper to try to burn holes in his back.
Piper stood glued to her spot across from Jensen. Dumbfounded. With a side order of Pissed as Hell. What the Hell? No credit for any of her work? He knew exactly who made up that set, but he wouldn’t give her the credit. Did he think it was easy to be that sadistic? It wasn’t.
Jensen gazed sympathetically at his sister. “I’m sorry, Pipe.” He ran a powerful hand through his short crop of sweaty hair. “I thought he’d at least compliment you. You know? I’m not smart or sadistic enough to create that.” He smiled warily at her.
Completely unaware that her blood pressure was shooting through the roof. Piper took a step back, pursing her lips. “Damn right you aren’t smart enough. But I’m not either. Or fit enough.” Her eyes turned a decidedly darker blue; full of fire and emotion.
Oliver had by now sat up to watch the entertaining conversation in front of him. OR rather eavesdrop on it. Not that Piper would have noticed. She looked alarmingly angry, and having never really conversed with her, Oliver was more than nervous. With good reason.
Jensen sighed. “Pipe, you are too. Just like me.” He smiled cheekily. Catching her glare, he shrugged. “Look, you have two options. One, say something and piss him off. Or two, deal with it. You are a girl…Dad’s never going to give you the credit you deserve. It is a fact of life. Like I’m better than you.”
Piper launched herself towards her brother, latching onto his shoulders, taking him down to land on the muddy ground. She slammed her fists into his muscular chest a few times before jumping up and smiling smugly. “I can still take you down, boy.” She turned to Wood. “You want to skive off the next drill?” Piper’s eyes glittered cheerfully.
Oliver took in her sparkling eyes and briefly wondered about the ruckus she’d cause at school if she showed up looking like she did now. He shook himself out of it. “Nah, I don’t want to piss him off.” He stood up tiredly.
“Why not? It is so fun. I do it all the time.” She cocked an eyebrow.
Wood shrugged, and headed towards the mass of men at the other end of the field. “Doesn’t seem like a great idea to tick off the very coach you want to impress the most.” He turned slightly to see if she was coming and was stopped in his tracks.
It was definitely a great thing that Prewett didn’t wonder around school looking like this. Half the bloody school would be blundering fools over her and the female half would hate her. Gah, she was bloody gorgeous. Not that he needed the distraction. Her voice pulled him out of his musings.
“Wood?” Piper reached out and touched his arm with her hand. “Are you okay? You look like you might be ill.”
Oliver smiled and told her that he was fine. “Ready to go?” He started back towards the other men.
“Sure.” She sighed dejectedly and fell into step with him, their feet padding along the extra soft grass. “You sure you’re alright?” Piper could not risk him getting sick, or mad, or any other thing out of the ordinary.
Oliver shook his head again. “Yeah I’m fine. Actually, you could help me.” He scratched his head. “I know that we aren’t mates or anything at school, but what do I call you? I’m so bloody confused. You aren’t ‘Prewett’ to me, now that I know who you really are. I won’t call you ‘James’, because somebody might figure out who you are. Do you want me to refer to you as ‘Piper’, or what?”
She thought on it. Coming up to the crowd of men, she told him. “PJ is fine. Percy and the twins call me PJ all the time. I’ll answer to it.” She smiled friendly in his direction.
There was no sense in him knowing that hearing her name from his lips had nearly caused her to fan herself with her hand. Man, he had a sexy accent. Piper. Ooh, it sent shivers down her spine, remembering how it sounded. Like an orgasm inducing whisper. Mmm. Sex-ay.
Shaking her head to diffuse the hormonal fog, she turned her attention to her dad and eldest brother, who were giving out orders for the next drill.
Three hours later, Piper stood in her shower, letting the hot beads prick her skin. Training was going exceedingly well, with only two drawbacks.
One, her dad still didn’t give her credit where credit was due.
Secondly…she was becoming friends with Oliver Wood. Which doesn’t sound like a bad thing, per say, but it was weird. He was one of the only non-family friends she had. And it would probably go back to the way it always when they returned to school. So Piper decided right then and there, in the shower, that she would take advantage of Wood. Er- rather, take advantage of his friendship.
Wednesday came, and with it, a combination Chaser-Keeper practice. It started out easily enough. The Chasers tossed around the Quaffle and after awhile, they started to do harder passes and maneuvers. Piper stood watching on the ground, next to her dad and grandfather. Brody freaking James. The Godfather of Quidditch. The fucking man. Or so all the Chasers had said when they had been introduced.
Piper just saw her goofy old grandpa. He was a stocky man, around Piper’s height, with a white buzz cut that used to be the color of Piper’s. Brody James was a pureblood, but dressed constantly, except when playing, in muggle togs. Today, for instance, he had on dark blue Adidas pants, a red long sleeved t-shirt, and a gray fleece vest. With hot pink sneakers. Yes, he cut a charming, if not individual, figure. All Brody James.
Who was currently cursing out his son for not allowing Piper to participate. Ha ha ha ha.
“Dammit PJ…just get up there. If you can score on all 20 Keepers, I’ll let you come to dinner tonight.” Thomas spit out his proposition in a hurry, and then looked perplexed. Poor pup, couldn’t believe he had said it.
Piper knew when to not push her luck and mounted her broom, pushing off the ground to make her way up to the group of men in the air. She looked down at her dad, who told the boy what was going on. He listed the order of Keepers she would face; ranging from least advanced to the best.
The first thirteen guys missed Piper’s shots, easy as pie. She hadn’t even broken a sweat. Number 14 was a bit more formidable. His name was Sullivan and he was as wide as a refrigerator, and as agile as a panther. Piper squared off, ready for her solo shot, and started. She flew right, then down, left, then kept to that side. At the last second she tossed the Quaffle over his left shoulder, towards the far hoop. She stared in morbid fascination. The Quaffle had to go in. It had to! Piper was tired of showing off during Training but never getting to eat with the men. Seeing it sail untouched through the hoop, she sighed, relieved and turned back towards the center of the field.
Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, And Nineteen was easy scores. Hardly a challenge. Then came Wood. She smiled sardonically at his cheerful disposition, gripping her broom and toying with her plan. She nodded, and set off. She blazed a straight line this time. Every other shot had been a complex mixture of feints, and dives, spirals and fakes. Since Wood was undoubtedly the best Keeper, Piper thought that he could handle her best shot. She stopped four meters away from the middle hoop, and pondered. Right? Left? Down the dead center? He’d never expect that. She grinned again and let it rip. It sailed out of her hands, and through the outstretched arms of Wood.
He glared good-naturedly at her and congratulated her on a job well done. She smiled cheekily.
Guess who’s eating Dinner with the boys tonight?
Write a Review Respectable Distance: Piper loves being sadistic