When Our Worlds Collide (2 page)

Quit touching him then.

That’s twice now.

I can see the contours of Graham’s chest and the ripples of
his abs underneath his jersey that’s not fully buttoned. Nothing could have
prepared me for feeling them through his clothes. I’m about as innocent as they
come, but even I’m finding myself lusting over the idea of ripping his uniform
off to expose everything he’s poorly hiding under the tight cotton fabric.

He’s tall, standing nearly a foot taller than me---at least
it feels that way. Being this close to him makes me feel small and overpowered.
I wonder if everyone feels that way around him, a slight fear that’s a fraction
exhilarating at the same time. I’ve seen the way people gravitate around him as
he marches down the hallway. It’s strange the power he has over this town.

“It’s nice to meet you. Now can you please get out of my
way?” I ask with my teeth grinding together. Secretly, I’m amused by this
little game we’re playing. I don’t understand it, but it is the first time
someone who doesn’t wear his shirt tucked in showed me any attention. However
misplaced the attention may be.

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk out of the classroom
through the hallway and out the back doors. On my way to the field, I
repeatedly tell myself not to look back. I know he’s close by. The clicking of
his cleats on the asphalt gives him away for the second time today. As I reach
the field, Violet looks up from her phone to see Graham gliding by me. Yes, I
said gliding. I can feel him before I can see him. A shiver unnaturally running
up my spine as he draws close.

“Stand over there, Ken,” he whispers softly pointing to the
fence along first base. His lips are distractingly close to my ear. “Since you
don’t seem to know who I am, I guess I’ll just have to show you.”

I turn to face him with what I’m sure is a look of awe and
contentment. He’s already walking out to the pitcher’s mound. How does he move
so gracefully? I can’t take my eyes off of him as he throws out a few practice
pitches. I slide the batteries into the camera snapping a few shots of Graham
as I make my way over to Violet.

“What was that all about? More importantly why was Graham Black
talking to you? Did I see him whisper something in your ear?” Violet rattles
off the questions scanning her inspecting green eyes between the two of us. I
should be offended by her reaction. I’m not. I’m too confused to be upset with
her.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I answer shrugging my
shoulders as I put the camera back up to my face. I tell myself to point the
lens anywhere else, at any other player.  

With no surprise, I watch Graham through the eye of my
camera the entire nine innings. There is something about him that makes it hard
to look away. It’s like watching him in slow motion. As if his life depends on
every pitch he throws. The ball dances from his hand as he releases it from his
grasp. I know right then and there that he’s a rarity.

There isn’t a good enough reason to look away from someone
like Graham.

He’s just not something you want to miss.

Chapter Two

Present Day

-Graham-

“He was practically naked while his girlfriend just stood
there and watched it all go down,” Mark explains shaking his head in disbelief
at what happened over the weekend.

I laugh not giving a fuck if I’m disrupting anyone, as
usual. Even after Mr. Stevenson has cleared his throat a handful of times in
some sort of warning, I still can’t find the want to quiet down. That never
works anyways. Mr. Stevenson should know better by now.

Apparently Craig, the fucking idiot he is, hooked up with a
freshman’s girlfriend at a party. The kid didn’t find the humor in finding his
innocent girlfriend losing her virginity to someone who wasn’t him. They never
do, really. Craig has no shame. He never has which is why I’m not surprised.
The guy would walk around with his dick in his hand all day if it was socially
acceptable. He pulled out of the naïve freshman not even bothering to put pants
on before kicking her boyfriend’s ass.

Craig makes the rest of us all appear to be respectful
gentlemen. There have been numerous of nights where his crude sexist humor
lands Mark and me into the pants of distraught girls.

He’s sort of the perfect wingman.

“Where the hell was I when this all went down?” I question
tapping my pen on the table. By the look of disdain on Mark’s face I’d say I
know exactly where I had been.

Mark rolls his eyes drastically confirming my suspicions.

“Balls deep in Amanda if I were to take a guess,” he utters
under his breath.

Amanda and Mark had been hooking up during the summer.
Something happened. It’s evident through their heated exchanges and the fact
that she slapped him last week in front of everyone in the hallway. Since the
summer he’s had a look of hatred whenever she even breaths the same air as him.
It’s entertaining for the rest of us at this point. We’ve all learned to ignore
the backhanded comments and name calling. It’s safer that way.

I look up to see Mr. Stevenson glaring his beady little eyes
at me. “Mr. Black, can you tell me the difference between the Republican and
Democratic parties here in the United States?” he asks interrupting Mark’s and
mine conversation about Craig’s latest stunt.

I’m watching Mr. Stevenson eye me down knowing damn well
that I don’t have the answer for him. He waits patiently. This is the point
where I either bullshit my way through or own up to not knowing what the hell
is going on. Those are the only two options of my survival for this class.

Schools complicated for me. I know that teachers aren’t
dying to have me in their classrooms. I’m not the easiest student to have
sitting in their desks. I talk out in class. I spend most of my time talking
shop with my teammates and talking my way into the pants of my next conquest. I
rarely have any clue as to what the hell we are learning. I’m not a complete
idiot like they all want to believe. Everyone knows it deep down, but they just
don’t bother to say anything. I just skim by with the bare minimum because I am
who I am.

Mr. Stevenson has made it his mission to call me out
whenever he gets the opportunity. He’s also the only teacher in this school who
doesn’t give me a little bit of slack. Most of the staff has a silent
understanding that I’m the schools only chance at winning a state championship.

It doesn’t hurt that most of the staffs families are
employed by my Grandfather. In this town that entitles me to just about
anything if they want their families to be able to supply food to their dinner
tables come Thanksgiving time. A few turn a blind eye if I don’t turn in
homework assignments or don’t even bother to show up to class at all.

Ms. Crandall gives me A’s on homework that I don’t even
remember doing just for giving her a few compliments here and there. Somehow I
have perfect attendance in all my classes except Government. There’s no big
surprise there though.

“Umm…” I’m silent knowing that I don’t have the answer he is
looking for. I look to Mark for help. He’s a dick. All I get is a shit eating
grin from him. I debate on giving my usual smart ass remark since everyone’s
eyes are on me at this point. That’s what they all expect from me anyways.
Weighing the odds, I know that will only land me in detention.

Coach will kick my ass if I get another detention after
school. He’d make me run laps around the field like always. Laps are his go to
punishment. He finds some sick pleasure in our pain like most great coaches.
The first time he forced laps on me was sophomore year when I was skipping
class to go hook up with…

What’s her name?

Sexy as sin brunette, huge tits, tight ass…legs for days!

How could I forget that name?

---Darcy Williams.

 I can practically feel her lips wrapped around my dick
still.

Darcy was a senior. God damn, the girl was gorgeous with the
longest legs imaginable and these outrageous green eyes. They were
exceptionally nice to gaze into while she was on her knees looking up at me for
some form of approval.  I took her up on the offer like any other red blooded
male would when she propositioned me outside of the locker room that day.

I got caught coming back into school after the final bell
landing me with detention for a week and running at practice while the team
watched. They all laughed knowing that the smirk on my face was one of
amusement. Coach is always tough on us. That day I learned that Darcy was well
worth every single lap I ran. She gave me the most amazing head I’ve ever had
to date. I swear the girl didn’t have a gag reflex. I could feel the head of my
dick beating against her tonsils.

I wonder what she’s up to now.

“Are you daydreaming, Mr. Black? How about you pay more
attention to what we are talking about in class rather than reliving what
happened over the weekend. Sound like a simple enough idea?” Mr. Stevenson
barks. I must have been zoning out hard. I didn’t notice him turning his back
on the class to write something on the board.  

How is it possible that I’ve only been in class for twenty
minutes and he’s already made it seem like I’m a fucking idiot? I wonder if my
Grandfather would pull some strings to get him fired. The next time he chooses
to make an example out of me I will be getting his ass canned before he can
even utter the words unemployment line. Asshole.

Mr. Stevenson is in the middle of explaining the question
that I failed to answer when the door to the classroom swings open banging
against the wall. I’m pulled completely out of my day dream. It’s too bad. I
was just getting to the best part too.

I look up just as…
Oh god! What the fuck is this girl’s
name?
I’ve only talked to her once and that was all the way back in
freshman year. I had no idea who she was then either. I kept calling her
beautiful. It’s true, she was and still is beautiful, but she walks around the
halls like she’s too good for any of us making it hard to appreciate. I’m not
surprised that Mark doesn’t know her name when I lean over to ask him.

“Kennedy, why don’t you take a seat in the back of the
classroom? It looks like there’s a seat available next to Graham there. Maybe
you can fill him in on the difference between political parties. He could use
the help,” Mr. Stevenson instructs with his usual dry monotone voice. He must
think he’s funny. My eyes roll in annoyance gaining laughs from Mark and
Skylar.

I’m pretty sure those two are hooking up now. She’s a snobby
bitch who thinks she’s a big deal. Her dad owns a popular recording studio in
Nashville. She’s hooked me up a time or two with concert tickets, but that
doesn’t mean that I’d deal with her shit to get them. I don’t care how
beautiful you are, I’m not groveling at your feet for any reason.

Looking up from my desk after hearing my name, Kennedy’s
making her way towards me. She’s not too thrilled about having to sit with me,
as if I’m the social outcast. She has a rather entertaining snarl on her lips.
She cringes with every step that brings her closer to me.  What have I ever
done to this girl? Maybe I slept with her and never talked to her again.

That’s doubtful.

 Virgin is practically lit up in bright lights above her. If
that didn’t give her away then the halo above her head would surely do the
trick. I tend to stay as far away from the innocent types as much as I can help
it. Girls like Kennedy are too much work for me. Some guys like the thrill of
the chase which is exactly what Kennedy would be. It’s a lot of hand holding
and meeting the parents before you even find out what type of panties she
prefers to wear.

Like I said---Too much. Damn. Work.  

Whatever I did, which I’m sure it is something because I’m
exceptionally good at pissing off the girls in this school, it couldn’t have
warranted the blatant glare she’s giving me. If looks could kill I’d be lying
here dead in a matter of seconds. She walks behind my chair to get to hers
slamming her books and notepad on the table. With a horrified look on her face
she sits down beside me. Her skin turns a bright shade of pink when she looks
over at me through her hair. It falls perfectly around her face.

How innocently adorable of her.

I watch as she grabs a handful of things out of her bag
laying them perfectly out on the desk.
Good God, she’s a nerd. Damn it,
she’s endearing at the same time. Did I just say endearing? Jesus Christ.
I
shake the thought from my head as quickly as it came in.

She has this long dark brown hair that reaches the bottom of
her shoulder blades. There’s a perfect curl to it. It almost looks natural, but
I’m sure it takes some work. I’ve seen plenty of girls getting ready in the
morning to know that it can’t be natural. It’s the type of hair that you can
imagine running your fingers through, giving it a little bit of a pull. She has
a small frame with just the right amount of curves to catch your attention. 

My mind wanders back to freshman year when Kennedy got such
an attitude with me before one of my games. I was instantly intrigued by her
then. Hard not to be when she was the first girl at school to not fall at my
feet. I followed her in the school that day. Since I knew right away that I was
annoying her I just laid it on even thicker. She “claimed” to not know who I
was, but I’m pretty good at reading people. She knew who I was the whole time.
She just wished that she wasn’t as aware of me as she was. I’m not an idiot.
Enough girls have thrown themselves at me to know when someone’s checking me
out. She definitely did a thorough once over that day. We haven’t said another
word to each other since. 

I discreetly take a side glance her way, hoping to not get
caught. She is too busy paying attention to Mr. Stevenson to notice me. She
taps her pen on the table just light enough to detect the sound with her leg
tapping in the same rhythm. You can almost hear the song that she has in her
head.

I’ve heard a few of the guys on the baseball team saying
things about Kennedy as she walked by in the hallway. It is never loud enough
for her to hear. Even if she had, I doubt she would have turned to acknowledge
them. She’s too busy with her nose in her books and her face behind the camera
to pay any one of us much attention.

Mr. Stevenson calls on me one more time during the hour of
class. Of course I don’t know the answer again. I need to pay better attention
if he’s going to be such a colossal douche. As I struggle to come up with an
answer, I hear Kennedy clearing her throat. I glance over to find her tapping a
pen on the paper in front of her. There’s something written in black bold ink
with a circle around it. She nods towards the front of the classroom
encouraging me to answer.

“Fiscal policy?” I answer with zero confidence. It sounds
more like a question than an answer. I already know that I’m screwed.

“Very good, Mr. Black,” Mr. Stevenson nods in surprise. He
continues to bombard the class with more information. That was a first and
probably will be the only time a teacher nods in appreciation of me. I’m sure
the look of shock on my face is evident from the praise.

I take a second to look over at Kennedy who sits facing the
front of the room listening intently, diligently writing down notes. A few
seconds pass before she notices I’m trying to get her attention. When she looks
up I mouth “Thanks” smiling at her. She smiles quickly then looks back at the
board following along with the lecture.

How the hell are her eyes that shade of blue? They’re
fucking clear.

Like I said before, I’ve noticed Kennedy in passing. It’s
sort of hard not to. It is clear to everyone that she intends on being a
spectator instead of a participant in our school. I’ve never heard of anyone
saying they went out on a date with her or asked her to a dance, which is
surprising. I would have thought guys would be lining up to attempt to crack
that nut.

The girl’s fucking gorgeous in that understated kind of way.
She just doesn’t have to try. She wakes up looking like that. That explains why
most of the girls push her to the side not even trying to get to know her.
Living in our small community, it’s easy to see how they all perceive her.
She’s the “new girl”. Most of them have been together since kindergarten and
don’t take kindly to newcomers. They’re all assholes like that.

I spend the rest of the hour trying not to look at her.
Guess who lost that battle?

---This guy right here did.  

The bell rings and everyone jumps up from their seats
including Kennedy. When our eyes lock she forces the same smile that I
recognize from freshman year. It isn’t like most girls smile at me. The rest of
them grin from ear to ear trying to lure me in with their best effort, but not
Kennedy. Her smile stops before reaching its full potential. She truly can’t
care less who I am. A pearly white smile usually is all I need to get what I
want. With her I get no emotion but indifference.