When Our Worlds Collide (4 page)

Chapter Six

-Graham-

“You’re next on the beer pong table,” Craig shouts across
the room getting my attention. Amanda is in the middle of boring me to death
with another one of her stories about how she couldn’t find her favorite shade
of blush at Sephora because it’s been discontinued. Her cackle of friends
surrounds us like vultures giving condolences on her loss.
I fucking hate my
life.

Craig is pawning all over Lauren, Amanda’s best friend. As
always she isn’t having anything to do with him. I’m not surprised. She is one
of the few girls who haven’t fallen for his bullshit. She fell for mine
freshman year and a few times after, but she’s smart enough to know that Craig
is a bad idea. Lauren hung out with our friend’s occasionally. She was a snobby
bitch at the end of the day like the majority of the girls in this town.

“Want to play a little game?” Amanda grins at me from above
the rim of her red cup as she finishes off her drink in one gulp. The music is
blasting through the house and she is moving her hips perfectly in sync with
the beat drawing all the attention to her tight stomach that is exposed. She
knows she’s sexy and she uses it to her advantage. Girls like her always do.

“You looking for a challenge, sweetheart?” I wink knowing
that it is all I need to do to get her to do whatever I want her to do. She’s
easy, putty in my hands.

“Graham, you aren’t a challenge, but I’d love to raise the
stakes on this friendly game.”

“Nothing about you is friendly, Amanda. We all know that.
Now, what do you have in mind?”

Amanda let out a playful laugh. “It’s easy. How about if I
miss a shot then I’ll take off a piece of clothing and same goes for you? It’s
a win-win either way you look at it from where I’m standing.” She playfully
bites down on her lip. I think she forgets that we don’t need to play the
flirtatious games anymore. We both know what is and isn’t happening between us
tonight.

I got up from leaning against the counter and stood directly
in front of her putting my chest directly against hers. I stood a good foot
above her making her seem small as hell compared to me. “Looks like you’ll be
naked in no time. It’s going to make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier on
me.”

I pull on the bottom of her shirt exposing the top of her
bra. I bend down to kiss along her exposed collarbone making sure to nibble
just a little bit. The move is barely noticeable. Her excited eyes are staring
up at me. “Your panties are soaked, aren’t they?” I challenge her.

I am right, once again. She is practically naked in a matter
of a few shots. I almost feel bad for her. She is the one that made the rules.
I am simply obeying them, willing to let it go as far as she is willing to take
it. Right before she is about to unsnap the back of her bra I gather up her
clothes that are on the floor. Dragging her away from every guy’s watchful eyes
only makes it seem like I care more than I actually do. The harsh reality is
that I’m just ready to release some tension.

Of course they all huddled around the table once her pants
came off, but I wasn’t willing to share her with all of them. I knew they were
all planning on standing on the sidelines ogling her in her tiny underwear. I
may not want to make her “mine” but I’m not willing to allow what is mine to be
on display for all of my friends. That’s where I draw the line.

I open one of the first bedroom doors we come across shoving
her through, slamming it behind us. I throw her shirt back at her.

“Put that back on,” I demand quickly unbuttoning my pants
pulling my wallet out of the back pocket. I pull a condom out (because I’m not
a fucking idiot) and throw the wallet on the nightstand.

“You’re fucking kidding with me, right? Graham, I’m standing
here pretty much naked and you are demanding I put my shirt back on,” Amanda
fights quickly realizing that sliding the shirt over her head is the wiser
decision. She knows it’s something I’m not willing to relent on. “You’re
absurd, you know that? You are the only boy I know who has ever demanded a girl
to put more clothes back on.”

The whole rule started after losing my virginity to Shelly
Winter freshman year. She was wearing her shirt the entire time. It made the
whole act feel impersonal, almost like a business transaction without the dirty
exchange of money. I prefer it that way with no emotion or expectations. Since
that first time I’ve always insisted that they kept their tops on, all of them.
No one’s escaped the rule. No one ever will either.

“Do you want to do this or argue about what clothing you’ll
be wearing when I’m inside you?” I raise a challenging eyebrow at her knowing
damn well what her answer will be. It’s the same every time.

“Fuck it.” Amanda finishes sliding her hands into her shirt
leaving it bunched up right below her perfectly round tits. They are perfect
size to fill my hands. She jumps into my arms wrapping her legs around my waist
before I lay her down on the bed.

Let’s get one thing straight. Amanda’s not my girlfriend and
she probably never will be. Unfortunately for me, I don’t think she knows that.
She’s a nice person to waste some time with. She’s easy going, but at times she
does get a bit “girlfriendy”. The girl has this impeccable body that can do
some pretty amazing things. I can ignore the hand holding and other public
displays of affection if she continues to do the things to me that she’s doing
right now. All I’m saying is that the girl could ride a cock like a bull, fast
and fierce.

I slide out of her once I am finished not caring if she gets
off, grabbing for my jeans from the bedroom floor. I throw the condom into the
trash can. She lets out a sigh and I know what that means in “girl world”. She
wants to cuddle or talk or some other girly shit that guys only do to guarantee
a second ride. That isn’t going to happen, not a chance in hell.

“You’re running off, aren’t you?” Amanda looks up from where
she’s lying on the bed looking well fucked and angry for my willingness to bail
on her afterwards. By now, she should know the routine.

“Yep,” I deadpan pulling my jeans up buttoning the top
button before pulling the zipper up.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Jesus,” I whisper under my breath. “I already told you that
I have things going on. I really have to go. Have Becky give you a ride home
tonight or don’t. I really don’t care.”

Not bothering to say goodbye to anyone, I walk out to my car
and put the keys in the ignition. I hadn’t noticed until now how drunk I
actually am. My house is just a few miles down the road. I’ve made this drive a
hundred times. I can do it in my sleep. Nothing is stopping me from putting my
car into drive and making my way back down one of several dirt roads that lead
to my house. It’s all second nature to me.

With all four of my windows rolled down in attempt to let
the cool air sober me up, I reach over to grab my iPod from my glove
compartment. I drop it to the floor by accident.

“Dammit,” I say out loud. It is just a fingertip away. I
lean down taking my eyes off the road for what could have only been a half a
second. I feel the car jolt against something hard. A loud thump hits the top
of the car then rolls off the back of the hood. I sit up quickly feeling
completely sober in a matter of seconds. 

I hit a deer.
Jesus, that scared the shit out of me
.
I don’t really know what to do. I pull over to the side of the road swinging
the driver’s side door open and step out looking for the deer, but there isn’t
one.

I see the long brown hair first. Something is familiar about
the softness of it. It is sticking out of a sweatshirt covering the face of who
I just hit making it impossible to be absolutely sure if what I thought was the
truth.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” I whisper out in between short
breaths. I feel numb as if what is happening is actually happening to someone
else and I am just an innocent bystander. Things like this don’t happen to
people like me. It’s not supposed to happen at all.

I walk over to her to make sure she’s still alive. My only
thoughts are on my future. About how badly I have fucked up and there is no
going back on this. I step in close enough to get a better look at who it is
laying in the middle of the rode. I already know deep down who is laying in the
middle of the road. I stop dead in my tracks. Her beautiful wavy brown hair is
spread out around her face. Her eyes are shut. I can still imagine the blue
clearness of them.

“Kennedy,” I say falling to my knees beside her. I think I
am going to get sick as I look at the huge gash across her hairline. A trickle
of blood is making its way to her eyebrow. There are bruises forming underneath
her flawless ivory skin from the impact of the car.

What did I do?

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.

Chapter Seven

-Kennedy-

My head is in a major fog. For a split second, a single
second, I almost forget what had happened. My mind clears shortly after coming
to conscious and everything plays back to me like a movie. I know I was hit by
a car. That much is obvious by the engine running somewhere nearby. There is a
pain rushing through my body. I think I am dying. It feels like I could be
dying. I try to sit up, but a hand reaches out touching my shoulder pleading me
not to move. I open my eyes and there he is kneeling beside me.

“Graham…what,” I try to speak. My voice is barely audible.
He interrupts my silence gently brushing my hair away from my face. It is the
gentlest of touches.

“Just lay still. I’m going to call 911,” he reaches in his
pocket for his phone. As he dials his phone, his hands shake uncontrollably. 

My body feels like fire is running through every vein. Maybe
I’m in shock, maybe I am delusional. The thoughts I am having point me straight
in the vicinity of crazy. It is obvious that Graham hit me with his car. What
isn’t obvious was why I was about to stop him from dialing his phone for help.

“Put your phone away and listen to me for a second,” I
demand reaching up knocking the phone out of Graham’s hand to stop him from
pushing the call button. My voice is weak. Even I can hear the strain through
the ringing in my ears. He stares at me for a minute with confusion. “Grab my
phone out of my pocket and dial 911 for me. Leave the phone next to my ear and
just get in your car and go.”

“What?” Graham stands up pacing in front of me running his
hands through his thick hair in frustration. I can hear the gravel being kicked
around under his shoes. He is turning frantic with my request looking up and
down the road as if all the answers are going to fall into his lap if he stares
long enough. “I don’t understand.”

The impact of the car obviously jumbled my brain
. What am
I thinking? I better be right about him.

“Just do it.” I yell with as much force as I can dig up from
the depths of my lungs. “Please.” I am nearly begging.

Graham reluctantly reaches in my pocket for my phone and
dials 911 for me before putting the phone down next to my ear. He never moves
his eyes from mine. Graham brushes his thumb down my cheek clearing the tears
that are slowly falling from the pain. Before he stands, he squeezes my hand
that is lying across my stomach. He stands up as I explain to the dispatcher
what had happened, but pauses before walking back to his car.

Everything is written across his face as he leans his
forearm on the hood of the car. Everything that I need to know is right in
front of me. He is just as scared and confused as I am. Even though I smell the
alcohol on his breath, I’m not willing to allow him to throw away his future
because of one bad decision. This one bad decision wasn’t going to define
either of us.

Graham is standing by his car looking back at me with a
grateful pained expression. For a split second before the black takes over
again I see him sigh in reluctance. His silhouette fades as I succumb to the
darkness that keeps pulling on me begging me to follow it. His face is the last
thing I remember seeing before waking up to the sterile smell of my hospital
room.

The fluorescent lights are shining brightly above my head.
My eyelids feel heavy. Grogginess overcomes me suddenly and I have to try to
force my eyelids to stay open. They could’ve weighed a hundred pounds each. I
attempt to move my arm. It is restricted from the IV that is lodged in my left
hand. As I move my arm an excruciating feeling runs up my arm as I pull on the
tubing.

“Honey, don’t try moving. Do you know where you’re at?” I
hear the familiar soft voice ask. I turn to see my mom sitting in the chair
next to my bed.

“I’m at the hospital. I was hit by a car, Mom,” I manage to
get out through my sore throat. Tears form in the corner of my eyes from the
pain. It has subdued a bit from the initial pain Graham’s car had inflicted,
but was still there as a reminder. The drip into my IV is helping with that,
I’m sure.

She brushes my hair away from my face. It’s something she’s
always did when I was upset. “Try to relax, baby. I’ll go grab the doctor.
He’ll be happy that you’re finally awake.”

Finally awake?

“What day is it?” I ask confused by how much time has passed
since the accident. I feel like I’ve only been out a few hours. The look on my
mother’s face tells me that isn’t the case.

“It’s Tuesday. You’ve been in and out since late Saturday
night when they brought you in, honey.” She pats me on the leg. “You gave us
all quite the scare.” I watch her leave the room swinging the door open heading
out into the hallway. All I want to do is close my eyes and sleep. Maybe this
will end up being a big dream. I highly doubt I was that lucky.

A young doctor walks in with a nurse and my mom trailing
behind a few minutes later interrupting my plan of slumber. The nurse whose
name is Brenda based on her name tag looks like a grumpy older woman.  She
missed the mark for when it was her time to retire. She has grey hair and even
greyer bushy eyebrows that are in a permanent scowl. My doctor seems too
youthful to be working on his own just yet, but as he examines my chart and
looks over my now bruised body I feel relieved. He is the friendly type and it
puts me at ease in a moment where panic could easily take over. He smiles at me
reassuringly as he skims through his notes jotting down a few more. Hopefully
it is a release date. I’m ready to go home.

The young doctor sits down on the rolling stool next to my
bed. “Kennedy, I’m Dr. Wilson. How are you feeling?” he asks shining a small
flashlight in my eyes.

“Sore,” I explain adjusting myself on the bed.

He lets out an amused laugh. “Yeah I suppose you would be.
How does that head of yours feel?”

“Just a little throbbing. It’s more my leg that hurts.” I
look down to see my leg propped up on several pillows under the generic tan
hospital blanket. I lift the material to see my leg wrapped in a cast.

“You hit your head pretty hard when you got struck by the
car. We did a few tests and it looked like you had a good bit of swelling. That
explains why you’ve been out of commission the past few days. You did manage to
come out a handful of times. That’s how we knew about the car, but we lost you
quickly after,” Dr. Wilson gives me a reassuring smile. His bedside manner is a
skill he obviously perfected. “As for your leg, that’s going to hurt for a
while. You have extensive damage and it seems that your leg is going to take
some time to get back to normal.” He pats my hand in a way to comfort me and
leaves the room once instructing grumpy butt Brenda to increase my pain meds slightly.

My mom makes her way over to the hospital bed and sits down
on the side being careful not to pull or tug at any of the wires that are
hooked into me. “There’s a detective that’s here to talk to you,” she explains
in her calming voice. I can recognize it from a mile away. She only uses it in
desperate times. There is a knock on the door and she shouts that it was okay
to come in. A tall man in a police uniform enters. He has dark buzzed cut hair
and friendly brown eyes that scan the room. He is obviously assessing who is
present.

“Kennedy Conrad, I’m Detective Johnson. I’m the one that’s
on your case. Can I ask you a few questions about your accident?” He’s standing
in the doorway waiting to hear my answer. Nurse Brenda leaves quickly to give
us our privacy. I’m not ready to talk to anyone about what happened. You’d
think they would give me some time, but apparently not.

“Sure,” I force a smile. I know why he is here, what he is
looking for. He is going to be disappointed. I have nothing to tell him.

“Do you remember what happened late Saturday night?”
Detective Johnson asks sitting down on the stool next to my bed.

“A little bit. I left my house through my window. I didn’t
want to hear my parents arguing anymore.” I flash a sympathetic smile to my mom
then turn back towards the detective. “And I went for a walk. I was just right
down the road from our neighborhood. It was dark, so I didn’t see the car
coming until it was too late. It happened right where that small hill blocks
your view from seeing any traffic coming.”

“Do you remember anything about the car? Perhaps if it was a
male or female driver, color or make and model of the car. Anything would be
helpful at this point.” He eggs on pulling at straws. My mom looks to me with a
pained expression. I know that look she is wearing. She can’t comprehend how
this happened to her baby girl.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything,” I lie threw my
teeth. My mom holds onto my hand trying to be supportive. I have no intentions
of telling them everything I know.

“Honey, you don’t remember anything?” my mother’s voice is
full of worry. She stands up pacing the length of the room a few times.

“Not really,” I lie again. I am starting to feel exhausted
and she notices my uneasiness. She kindly asks Detective Johnson to leave and
that we will be in contact with him if I remember anything. He assures my mom
that they will do everything that they can to find the person who is
responsible for my accident.

My mind wanders to Graham as my mom flips through a Home
& Garden magazine while I sit in silence. Accident is the word that sticks
out to me. That’s what they are calling it. It was just that, an accident. No
one else sees it that way though. Being hit by a car is an accident, but the
person behind the wheel who left me in that position is not an accident to
them. They assume that the person was negligent, but in reality he wasn’t. Even
though he had been drinking, I was the one that pushed him to leave me there
alone. I practically begged him.

Why wouldn’t he listen to me? I gave him a get out of jail
free card and he gladly ran with it. Who wouldn’t have?