When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)
Lindsey Iler
To everyone who has believed in Graham and Kennedy’s story, this one is for you.
Sophomore Year of College
“Nice work, Kennedy.” The instructor’s voice echoes through the nearly empty room. “Watch your feet, though. You don’t want to get swept up.”
Unlike most Saturday mornings, Bayview is quiet. When I moved to the city, I joined a gym, but not a normal, weightlifting, beefcake-stocked arena. The owners, Candice and Beverly, opened their doors five years ago with one mission in mind. NO woman should ever go unprotected.
When I glance around the room at the women learning how to defend themselves, a sense of pride to stand amongst them wells up in me. Not everyone here has been a victim, but a majority of us have been helpless at the hands of someone else. This is our church.
Because of Candice and Beverly, I am no longer scared to walk out my front door. If something was to ever happen again, I am more than capable of handling myself.
For a split second, I falter in my steps and land on my back with a loud clap. A burn runs through my elbows, up my arms, and settles in my shoulders.
Amanda reaches down and pulls me up. “Yeah, Kennedy, watch your feet.” She laughs as she positions herself in the fighting stance, beckoning me with fluttering fingers.
“Quit talking shit and try it again. You won’t get past me,” I threaten.
For almost a month now, she’s come with me to Bayview. Amanda uses the time to work out and says it’s an even better excuse to see me. Our schedules overlap during the week to the point we’re almost strangers these days. Since moving to New York, Violet, Amanda, and I have managed to find part-time jobs and keep busy with school. The three of us, together for too long, is a rare thing, so when we can, we get much-needed face time.
I extend my hand, attempting to hit Amanda’s arm, but she blocks my shot, dancing around until we’re in opposite positions.
“Nice try, slut.” Amanda chuckles.
“Watch the language, Amanda,” Candice shouts. “You know we don’t tolerate that here.”
Amanda’s hands fall to her sides, and she faces our instructors, begging for an argument. “Don’t you think it would be beneficial not only to prepare our bodies but also our minds?” She sarcastically taps her temple.
My eyes scan to the girls close enough to hear, and we fall into silent laughter. Amanda is never short of entertainment for the rest of us. I shake my head and gesture for her to get back into stance. “You’re impossible, you know that, right?”
Amanda swings, but I duck out of her reach, making her smirk. Lunging forward, I take her out at the legs, and straddle her flailing body with my thighs gripped tight around her. She’s pinned to the mat. My hands hold her wrists to the floor.
“You’re the one on your back, so who’s the slut now?”
Her hips buck up and down, causing my body to bounce around. “I know you prefer the top anyway.” Amanda’s eyebrows wiggle up and down. “Speaking of, are you ready for the road trip?”
“It’s hardly a road trip.” I loosen my grip and go to stand, but Amanda’s ankles bang against my legs, sending me to the mat beside her. “You couldn’t let me have it, could you?” I take a deep breath and sit up, crossing my legs. “What does our trip have anything to do with me being on my back?”
“It is a road trip, Kennedy. Have you ever been to Connecticut? And on this little trip, I plan on getting you a bouquet of much-needed dick.” Her voice brightens with approval of her little plan.
“No, but it’s barely two hours away. Hardly qualifies as a road trip, and I don’t need your help in the dick department.”
“Don’t be a buzzkill, and yes, you do.” Her sideways glance has me peering out the large window. “How long has it been, huh?”
I ignore her question. “And why are we going to Connecticut again?”
“Dan wants to. Something about snooping around their baseball team. I don’t know.”
“Whatever.” I groan. “I still think we should’ve gone somewhere tropical for our long weekend.”
We’ve been planning our getaway since last year. It’s no special occasion, except we all have an extended weekend free from school, and work, and every other obligation we’ve managed to plaster ourselves with throughout the year. We plan to capitalize on the free time, and are doing God knows what in Connecticut.
After showering and throwing on my work uniform, I wave goodbye to Amanda and we head in opposite directions. Although we both work in bars, hers is a little fancier than mine. She wears black pants and a collared shirt, while I wear jean shorts and cowgirl boots, no matter how cold it is outside. February weather is frigid, but at least, we don’t have a foot of snow. I’ve learned a hard lesson about walking the streets in a pair of Daisy Dukes during the middle of a blizzard. One blistered ass cheek is all it took to convince me to bring a change of clothes to work if the temp is below thirty-five degrees.
My boss, Samuel, brags about how he stumbled upon me practicing my dance for my final exam outside one of my lecture halls. Apparently, I was what he was searching for. I’ve waitressed here for almost seven months. The Knox is a country-inspired, but not limited to, college bar. To be honest, I’d much rather be here than the stuffy place Amanda works in. She constantly complains about the rich, entitled bastards who pat her ass and call her pet names like Kitty and Princess. The thought alone makes me shiver.