When Our Worlds Collide Read online

  When Our Worlds Collide

  A novel by

  Lindsey Iler

  (1st book in the Our Worlds Series)

  Copyright 2014 Lindsey Iler

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  The use of artist and song titles throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way been seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intentions of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for 17+ year old readers.

  Warning: Some scenes in this book contain difficult subject matter that could be a trigger for some readers. Please know that the scenes are not written in strong detail, but sensitive subjects are depicted throughout the body of work. If you or someone you know has been a victim of rape please contact the National Sexual Assault Hotline 1-800-656-HOPE

  Cover:

  Cover design by Paper & Sage Design

  -Dedication-

  To my future ex-husband, Bryan. (I don’t think anyone actually believed I would write that) I fell in love with you when we were in high school, but I love you more today than I could have ever believed imaginable.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  About Lindsey Iler

  Connect with Lindsey Iler

  Chapter One

  Two Years Ago

  -Kennedy-

  “How do they all look so flawless all the time?” I say to myself as I turn to head towards the high school.

  Something fishy is going on in this town. They pump hormones into the water supply in the locker rooms is the only reasonable explanation. The boys are unbearably beautiful around here. I don’t remember them looking like this back in Michigan.

  A handful of tall, gorgeous boys from the varsity baseball team are surrounding my best friend, Violet. Tennessee’s hottest are giving their undivided attention to my best friend as one of them swings her around in the air as if she’s weightless. As her feet leave the ground her laughter rings from the parking lot where I’m standing, watching in envy.

  Violet is a force of nature making it impossible to not be drawn to her. Even the upperclassmen can’t resist her charm. She’s drop dead gorgeous with the deepest red hair that only causes jealousy in girls. Her hypnotizing green eyes are what make it nearly impossible to say no to her.

  We’ve been best friends, attached at the hip, since I moved to Tennessee at the beginning of this year. I’m the new girl and she’s been the only one willing to give me an ounce of compassion, befriending me when I needed someone on my side the most. She’s been the main influence of breaking me out of my shell, even though her quest hasn’t really been working.

  She’s the reason I’m here tonight. I’m not here to cheer on my boyfriend like most of the girls sitting on the metal bleachers. They’re all wearing their boyfriend’s number on the back of their poorly sized t-shirts. It’s a dead give-a-way for the ball chasers (Violet’s expression, not mine). She refuses to call herself a ball chaser even when I point out time and time again that she fulfills all the necessary criteria to be a part of the coveted group of future ex-wives.

  Busying myself watching Violet’s shameless flirting makes me a single step away from colliding into a situation I would have preferred to avoid. They haven't noticed me yet and neither seems too rushed to come up for any source of air. I'm not surprised I’m going unnoticed. I'm nearly invisible to these people. I flitter by every day, but no one turns their heads to acknowledge me. I’ve grown to live with it.

  Out of pure curiosity and some form of horrid punishment, I can’t pry my eyes away from the two of them. I know I should have gone to a different door---at the very least turn away until they’re done mauling each other, whenever that could be.

  He has her pinned against the metal door running his hands up and down her nearly flawless body. He’s bold slipping his hand beneath the fabric of her tight shirt. Her hands are pushing through his thick hair as she stands directly between his legs. Only their clothes stop them from doing something that only makes me blush thinking about it.

  My only thought, an embarrassing one, is that I wish someone would kiss me like he’s devouring her. As if it were the kiss to end all kisses. I could feel the evidence of my embarrassment creeping up my cheeks as I watch in on something that will never happen to me in this lifetime. Jealousy is a normal human response I keep reminding myself as I continue to watch their display.

  Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not miserable. I’m just not content with where I’m at in this point of my adolescence either. I'm a freshman in high school who just wants to fit in like everyone else. Being asked out on a date or to go to a party should be a top priority for me like it is for most girls my age. I just let it all go, writing it off as a fairytale that will never come true.

  I know…I’m pathetic.

  I have this unrealistic fantasy that if I still lived in Michigan, high school would be easier for me. I felt a part of something living there. Everyone knew who I was. Here, I'm just the new girl that all the girls ignore. The freshman guys in my class are too busy drooling over upperclassmen and Amanda Drims with her freshman cackle of followers to notice someone as boring and mundane as me. To sound more self-deprecating than I already do, I’m forgettable.

  The only reason
why I'm even at the baseball field tonight, besides being dragged by Violet is for the school newspaper. Mr. Randall, the freshman English teacher, practically forced me into newspaper class after reading my essay on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I like being creative making the decision to join a no brainer. Plus, I know that it will look promising on my college applications.

  Yes, I'm also that girl who’s already thinking about college essays and interviews. No wonder no one notices me, right? Columbia doesn't let just anyone in though. I’m going to have to work my butt off if I want to get noticed. My grades, as stellar as they are, will not be enough to make me stand out in the busy crowd of America’s elite. These kid’s parents are alumni that purchase new wings in different corners of the campus to guarantee admission. My parents graduated from state college. I can’t buy my way in. It’s just not going to happen that way for me. I have to depend on my hard work to make it there.

  I roll my eyes as I see that the make out bandits still haven’t come up for air. I’m still approaching their compromising position day dreaming about the what-if’s of my life.

  "Excuse me," I speak softly as I approach the door that leads inside the school.

  They don't dislodge themselves from each other even when I’m right in front of them. Either they don't hear me or they don’t care enough to peel themselves off of each other. I make an attempt to reach around them to grab at the door handle hoping to sneak by unnoticed. He pushes her to the side nearly trapping my hand beneath her bony body.

  "You've got to be kidding me," I whisper to myself rubbing my fingers on my temples in frustration.

  He hears me, but doesn't bother to remove his lips from hers to laugh. I can hear the convulsion of his laughter through their locked lips. His smirk grows with my irritation. So happy he finds this amusing. That makes one of us.

  He turns to face me finally acknowledging that there are in fact other people in this world. The smile that appears on his face sends a chill up my spine. I've seen him before in the hallways, but never had the nerve to speak to him. I’ve heard the stories that follow him around. I’m not prepared to be this close to him. He is out of everyone's reach, completely on a different level than the rest of us.

  To say the least, boys like him are untouchable.

  Guys like him can't be bothered to give anyone who they deem beneath them the common courtesy that most human beings deserve. Instead of using their popularity for good, they laugh at those who aren't in their social circle. Most Dads’ would call them “Grade-A douchebags”.

  Graham Black, one side of the duo in front of me, can get away with his behavior for obvious reasons. Look at him, like really take a good gander at him. Even as a freshman he has those type of masculine features you only see on underwear billboards rivaling the David Beckham’s of the world. A head full of sexed up brown hair paired with light brown eyes that make it easy to forget what you are doing standing in front of him in the first place. Not to leave out his strong jawline that ticks when he smiles. All of that is enough to make a girl fall apart.

  I stupidly allow my eyes to check out his body that’s tucked into his baseball uniform. I may be an inexperienced virgin that embarrassingly hasn’t had her first kiss yet, but I know that he has a body worth doing a once over on. You have to admire him. It’s written in the rules in this town.

  "Do you need to get by, sweetheart?" Graham finally speaks with a confidence that sounds just as condescending as it is endearing. I can see the amusement on his lips as he catches my blatant approval of him in his tight uniform.

  The girl who’s lucky enough to be twisted around him like a pretzel looks over his shoulder at me. There’s a glare that could make the strongest willed girl duck away in fear. I recognize her, but don't know her…technically. She’s a senior on the cheerleading squad.

  Their tangled limbs say more about Graham than her. He’s at the top of the tier at school, even as a freshman. Every girl wants a piece of him. It’s pathetic how they all follow him around just waiting for any scrap of attention he’s willing to throw their way.

  You wouldn’t complain if it was you.

  That’s beside the point.

  "If you don't mind moving this to another doorway that would be great," I answer feeling immediately self-conscious by the way he’s leering down at me as if he knows something I don’t. Waiting for a response is my only option. I watch him just as intently, almost challenging him as I pull on the hem of my tank top. I’m either extremely brave or utterly stupid.

  "You know what, Marissa? I think we're done here." Graham unhooks her arms from around his neck then looks to me like I’m in on some grand elaborate scheme of his. Marissa looks to me with the same snarl she was sporting just moments ago. Clearly she isn’t happy to have her claws out of his back. Not many girls would be.

  “But…” Marissa attempts to protest with the whiniest tone imaginable.

  "I said…We. Are. Done. Here," Graham barks with an authority that you don’t have any choice, but to listen to. I jump at his sharp tone as he keeps his eyes directly on me. I hate his obvious amusement at my reaction to him. I play with the ends of my ponytail as she walks by bumping her shoulder into mine. There was no mistake there. She was proving her point.

  I reach for the door just as Graham's large hand shoots out to open it for me. I slide past him into the hallway noticing that he follows in after me. As I pass the doors for the locker room, I realize that he isn’t heading that way. He’s only a few feet behind me. His cleats on the tiled floor give him away.

  "Do you need something?" I turn quickly to face him. Graham stops a few strides behind me leaning his back against the wall. He looks at ease. He acts as if following me isn’t anything out of the ordinary when in fact it’s anything but normal.

  "What's your name?" Graham asks quizzically playing with the belt around his baseball pants. "I don't think I've ever seen you around here."

  For crying out loud…That's just perfect. If I don't already feel invisible, he just put the last nail in my social pariah coffin.

  "You probably haven't," I answer resentfully. "Why would you?" I say the last part under my breath. I continue to walk needing to get as much distance between us as possible.

  Graham isn’t taking the hint. He pushes off of the wall catching up to me. I can practically feel the heat from him against my back. "I'll ask again. What’s your name, beautiful?"

  I roll my eyes at the generic pet name. I’m clearly not his type. What’s his angle with this? I think of a million scenarios in my head where Graham would actually have a reason to speak to me, coming up with zilch---nothing. There is no reason in this universe why Graham should be speaking to me.

  I’m glutton for punishment, so naturally I take the bait.

  “Kennedy. What’s yours?” I ask pretending as if I’m clueless to his popularity. I throw my hands on my hips for good measure trying to stand my ground, seeming more confident than what I actually am.

  Graham’s eyebrows crease together. “You’re fucking with me, right?” He laughs straight from his gut like I just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard.

  My body’s reaction to his laughter is infuriating. Some laughs are simple, understated. You don’t think twice about those kinds of laughs. Graham’s is hypnotizing and mind clouding. How is it possible to be laughed at and still find the person insanely attractive? I hate myself right now, which explains the sweaty palms and the heat rising up my cheeks and my hostile reaction.

  “What makes you think that I have any clue as to who you are when you didn’t even know I went to school with you?” I ask with clear confusion. Graham looks at me with a dumb struck expression that mirrors my own. His jaw nearly bounces off the floor as it falls open, quickly shutting with his slip in demeanor. “That’s what I thought.”

  I turn on my heels leaving him standing alone in the empty hallway staring at my receding shadow. There’s a painfully obvious pep in my step. There’s a sense of pri
de that I stood up for myself. I never speak up or out of turn, especially to someone like Graham. My job is to fall into the backdrop, to not be heard or seen. For a split second, I got to feel what other girls must feel around guys like him. Confident.

  I pull open the door to Mr. Randall’s classroom, flicking on the lights to try to find the batteries I need for my camera. As I tear open the packaging, I reach up to turn the light off and run into a rock solid wall. I instinctively throw my hands up to brace myself. Looking up I see an amused Graham smirking down at me as I pull my hands away from his solidly built chest. Clearly he’s worked for what he’s got.

  “Don’t you have a game to play in?” I look at my watch with pure irritation delighted with myself with how on the ball I am with the witty comebacks. This never happens. “You’re going to be late, you know.”

  “I’m Graham Black, it’s nice to meet you,” he says reaching his hand out to shake mine ignoring my ploy to get rid of him.

  He’s standing close enough that I can see every eyelash as he blinks down at me waiting for a response. Making an attempt to walk around him, he quickly slides to the side blocking my exit. I try my luck once more but run right into his chest. Putting my hands up in defense only connects me with his chest again. Flustered doesn’t begin to explain how I’m feeling.

  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.