Strike (Sphere of Irony 2)

Kate

I’ve been in love with Dax Davies since the moment I laid eyes on him in year three of primary school at the tender age of seven. Sadly, I’m not sure if he even knows that I exist.

Now, we’re in our final year of school, newly turned eighteen, and he still hasn’t said more than a few words to me here and there and when he has, it’s only because we shared a class so he didn’t have a choice. He’s on an entirely different level of existence than I am, beautiful, perfect, girls throwing themselves at him. It’s not surprising that he never noticed plain, boring Kate, the least girly female in school.

It’s the first day back after the winter holiday break, so I’m desperate for a fix of Dax’s gorgeous face. I mentally cheer for myself because lucky me, this term Dax ended up in front of me in class. I can’t help but stare at his wide, muscled back, defined perfectly under his tight T-shirt, as we wait for Mr. Patel to take roll call.

They always seat us alphabetically first thing in the morning. Since my name is Campbell and his is Davies, Dax either sits several seats behind me, or, like this year, the beginning of the next row. Obviously, I prefer him to be in front so I can ogle as much as I want without anyone knowing how pathetic I am.

“Kate Campbell?”

“What?” I jerk my eyes away from the back of Dax’s head and drop my hair, which I had been twirling in my fingers nervously.

“Are you with us today, Miss Campbell? I’ve called out your name three times.”

Mr. Patel stares at me from behind his wire-framed glasses with a bemused look on his face. Most of the class turns to gawk at me and I hear a few giggles from them, but it’s when Dax’s dark eyes meet mine that I feel the burning shame spread up my face and cheeks. He doesn’t look amused, he looks… well, hot, but he’s always hot, even with the dark bruise that spans the length of his jaw. No, scratch that, he looks… totally uninterested. Bored to death. By me.

I shift in my seat, utterly humiliated. “I-I’m here. Sorry Mr. Patel.”

Well, Dax certainly knows I exist now—as the class imbecile.

Mr. Patel clears his throat and everyone quiets down, my stupidity seemingly forgotten. Dax has already turned back towards the front of the classroom, likely thinking I’m a total nutter.

The bell rings sharply, dismissing us for first period. I wait for the room to clear before gathering my things and heading for maths.

“Kate! Wait up!”

My teammate, Tasha, comes dashing up the hall like a maniac, nearly crashing into me. We’ve done girl’s football together for ages so I’ve known her a long time. My mum says I’ve always had too much energy, been impossible to keep still. They signed me up for footy as an outlet for my insatiable need to be on the go.

“Tasha, I’ve told you to stop drinking so much caffeine.” I almost never drink caffeine. I can hardly keep still as it is. If I drank my favorite tea with milk, I’d be off the wall.

She throws her head back and laughs, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. I smile wistfully. I’ve always wished I were more exotic looking like Tasha, with her almond-shaped eyes and creamy white skin. But no, I’m not flashy or girly. I’m just boring old me. Boring brown hair, too big for my face murky greenish-brown eyes, average height, average weight, average… everything.

“I haven’t been drinking caffeine, silly. I’m just excited. All last term was footy this and footy that, around nothing but girls all the time. Now, since it’s off-season, we can flirt and find blokes to chat up and have fun.”

We had been walking towards class, but after that comment I stop to face Tasha. “Firstly, we still have football, just not as much. Practice starts next week. Secondly, you can flirt and find a bloke. I’m not interested. I need to get out of this town.” It’s a partial lie. I do want a bloke, a specific one. Only he doesn’t want me. Letting out a huff, I continue down the hall to the maths classrooms.

“Hey.” Tasha grabs my elbow, pulling me over to the side of the hall so we don’t block traffic. She lowers her voice and leans in close. “He’s an idiot to not notice you, Kate. You’re bloody gorgeous, smart, and fucking brilliant on the pitch. Either forget about Dax or make a move. I’ve heard he’s a cold, soulless bastard anyway. This is our last term together and we’re going to have some fun if it kills us.”

While I’m glad to have a friend like her who knows what I’m thinking even when I don’t say it, hearing her insult Dax ruffles my feathers a little. Yeah, he seems unapproachable and icy, but there’s something there. I just know it.

Regardless of how she feels about him, Tasha always lets me prattle on and on about Dax Davies and his magnificence and never once makes me feel stupid or obsessed—even though I’m ashamed to admit I’m both. “We’re going to have fun, huh?”

“Yeah.” She grins.

I pull my hair out of its elastic, run my fingers through it, and immediately whip it right back up in a ponytail. Nervous habit. “Right. You’re right. We are.” I’m not sure if I’m convincing Tasha or myself.

“Good. I’ll see you at lunch. Lucky us, they’re welcoming us back with that dodgy shepherd’s pie you love so much.”

I wrinkle my nose at the thought of eating the horrid school lunches for another term. Oh well, could be worse. I could be eating nothing for lunch—something I’ve had to do many, many times.

“See you then.”

When I reach my class I notice that my streak of misfortune continues—making a fool of myself during attendance, dodgy lunch, and to top it off, Dax is already seated in the back row of my maths class, running one of his huge hands over his short, dark blonde hair. His round, well-defined bicep flexes as his arm moves, making my mouth practically water. Brilliant, I’ll be spending the entire term thinking about Dax and his perfect muscles, sitting behind me. I’ll probably fail maths whilst I daydream.

Make a move or forget about Dax. Yeah right, not a bloody chance.

Dax