When Our Worlds Collide (Our Worlds #1)(5)
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.