by Lindsey Iler
When Our Worlds Stand Still
Our Worlds, Volume 3
© Copyright 2016 Lindsey Iler
KINDLE EDITION
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Cassy Roop at Pink Ink Designs
Formatted by Wendi Temporado at Ready, Set, Edit
Editing by Katie Mac
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
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.
I walk down the bustling sidewalk with a pep in my step and a smile on my face. Bayview always manages to put me in a good mood. Working out has become a high for me. I’m always searching for something new to kick up my endorphins.
When I walk through the front entrance, I’m greeted by a broad, obnoxious smile. “Hi, David.” I wave to our bartender.
“Hey, beautiful.” He nods in my direction. I toss my bag over the bar, and he stows it underneath where it will be safe. “You ready for tonight?”
I rack my brain, trying to remember if we’re expecting large crowds. “What’s tonight?”
“Our first date.”
I reach over the bar and place my palm on his cheek. “Oh, David,” I mockingly swoon. “You’re too pretty for me.” I lightly smack him before walking away.
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br /> The excuse is true. David’s pretty in the over-exuberant kind of way. He tries too hard. Anyone who takes longer to get ready than Violet is not to be trusted. The perfect peak of his hair screams high maintenance.
“I’m going to break you down one of these days, gorgeous, and you’ll say yes,” he shouts. David rests on the counter, and his eyes are planted on my backside.
“What every girl dreams of hearing.”
He slides his strong body off the bar and drags a rag over the top. “You know what I mean.”
“Bye, David.” I wave over my shoulder as I go in search of my apron.
David’s tried to wear me down for almost a month now. His efforts are admirable, but I can’t get past the manicured hair and shiny skin. Violet’s initial thought was he’s gay, but by the parade of girls following him out of the bar at the end of the night, it’s safe to assume he’s anything but. He may be endearing, but he’s not what I want.
When I barge into the small, dingy breakroom, three of the craziest, kindest girls I’ve ever met bombard me.
“You have to settle this argument for us,” Alex shouts, trying to get to me first. She pushes her younger sister out of the way.
Alex’s sister, Beatrice, groans. “Let me explain it to her. If you do it, you’ll make her favor you.”
“I will not, Bea. Let me explain it to her,” Alex argues, shoving her sister out of the way again.
Kate, the blonde bombshell of the group, jostles past them. She ties on her black apron and smiles at me. “I have an idea; why don’t you let me explain it since I’m not involved in any way, except that these two idiots have dragged me into it.”
“That’s a good idea. Kate, you explain it to her,” Bea instructs.
“Alex likes a boy, but Bea saw him first. What are the rules?” Kate blurts, completely disconnected and annoyed by the conversation.
Alex rolls her eyes at her best friend. “That’s hardly explaining it.”
“And I saw him first,” Bea pleads her case.
“This isn’t a movie. You didn’t have a moment. There was no whipping around of the hair and a love-struck look across the room.” Alex slings the insult and shakes her head as if she knows she’s won this round.
“Here’s an idea, and probably the best one in this situation,” Kate chimes in. “Both of you forget about him because he’s more than likely not worth tearing sisters apart.”
Bea nudges her sister in the side. “I don’t know.”
“He’s pretty hot.” Alex laughs and we all giggle.
Samuel bulldozes through the door and glares at us. “Daytime crowd came in. Get out there.” His tone is stern.
Kate salutes his back. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
Bea wraps her arm around Kate. “You’re going to get fired if you keep it up.”
“Sam wouldn’t dare fire me. Would you?” Kate leans forward and tugs the bottom hem of her shirt. The top of her black bra peeks out of the already low-cut V-neck. She bites her lip and grins at our boss.
His eyes venture down to her boobs, and his pants bulge right along with his eyes. He turns to me, realizing his slip-up, and scurries off. Bea and Alex hurry off to their sections to greet their waiting guests. I grab Kate’s arm before she can escape my inquisition.
“What the hell was that all about, Kate? Please tell me you aren’t fucking your boss. Our boss,” I chastise.
Kate slips from my grasp as if she’s insulted, but turns before she’s too far away. “I’m not fucking Sam.” She laughs, cracking a smile. “He’s fucking me.”
Before I whisper a single word, she’s greeting a table of frat boys I recognize as regulars. Our crowd differs from day to day. Some Saturdays, this place is full of college co-eds. The next, desperate thirty-somethings, looking to hold onto their youth for one more night, run us to death. You never know what you’re going to get here. In a life full of predictability, a little bit of randomness, wherever you can get it, is nice.
Loud music thumps as I pass through the crowd to get to my usual section. Even in the light of day, this place keeps the party atmosphere alive. Bea smiles at me as she nods to a group of rowdy guys. As I get closer, their t-shirts give them away as UConn baseball players.
A loud groan slips out as I supply them with napkins, and take their drink orders with the least amount of enthusiasm. My history isn’t exactly favorable for their kind.
A young blond leans back in his chair to check out my ass. “Can we get a few pitchers?” he asks.
“I’m gonna need some I.D.” I hold my hand out to them.
They take their wallets out and hand them over. Even the blond, although I expect him to be younger, is of drinking age. Damn, I was hoping for some excitement. Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than putting a youngster in his place and breaking his dreams of getting drunk off cheap beer. It’s a weekly occurrence here. Around the city, there’s always been a rumor we’re lackadaisical about carding. Unfortunately for those looking for an easy score of underage drinking, it’s not true.
“You’ve got interesting eyes,” another one of them says.
Rolling said eyes, I hand back his I.D. “If you think that’s original, it’s not. I’ve heard it before.” His friends hoot and holler at his expense, ragging on him for his ill effort in earning my attention. “I’ll get your beer.” I place the menus at the end of the table. “Our fish-n-chips are the best in town.”
I walk to the end of the bar where Bea stands, staring off into the distance over my shoulder.
With a nod at David, I gesture at the pitchers. “I need two for table fifty-six.” I twist around. Bea’s eyes widen. “What are you doing?” I glance over my shoulder before looking back at her. There’s a tiny gleam in her eye I can’t ignore. She looks like a starving man waiting for his steak.
“He’s here,” she whispers. “He’s here, and I don’t want Alex to see him, so I’m mapping out my assault.”
“Probably not the best idea to call it an assault.” I laugh, elbowing her in the side. “Where is he?” I scan the room for any indication but come up empty.
“He ducked into the bathroom.” She sighs. “Wait till you see him, Kennedy. He’s unbearably beautiful.”
One of the runners drops off the pitchers at my table. When I turn to take their orders, my feet cement to the ground. A familiar back tightens underneath a long sleeve t-shirt. His hands rest on the tabletop as he talks to my rowdy ball players. A lump appears in my throat, and I try but fail to swallow it back.
A tug on my shirt breaks me from the time warp in my mind.
“That’s him,” Bea whispers in my ear. Her eagerness makes me twirl to face her. I’m greeted by her usual wide, contagious smile.
I blink frantically to clear my mind. “Who’s him?” I shift to face the ghost from my past.
When I look to my friend, she points over my shoulder. “Low jeans, tight shirt. He’s the guy.”
I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands, twisting to make sure it is, in fact, not some imposter. When I come face to face with him, his too-familiar blue eyes burn into mine. Shock and surprise splashes across his face, and all I can seem to do is giggle. A full blown, schoolgirl giggle. Before I can stop myself, I cross the crowded room and jump into the arms of someone who is now almost a stranger, but was once my confidant.
“Mark!” I squeal as he sweeps me into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
He sets me down on my feet and holds me at arm’s length. “We’re on our way back to campus, and stopped to grab some food.”
I slap him on the chest. “I thought you decided to stay in Tennessee.”
“I was going to, but when an opportunity arises, sometimes all you can do is roll with the punches.”
I duck around him to find four sets of eyes staring at us with slack jaws. “So, you’re playing ball at UConn then?” I pull him in for another hug. “You’re in my backyard, and you didn’t even bother calling me?”
Mark hunches his shoulders. “I was going to call, but I know you have a whole new life here. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re never an interruption.” I smack his chest in playful anger. “Seems the old gangs back together.”
“You have no idea,” Mark mutters under his breath.
I lean forward to hear him better. “Excuse me?”
“It’s nothing, Kennedy.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I ran into you here, of all places.” Mark’s stare shifts around the room. He takes in everything, from the sticky floor to the dark atmosphere.
I shrug at his silent judgment. “You can’t beat the tips.”
“Oh, I’m sure, when you’re prancing around in jean shorts.” Mark pulls up a chair to sit with his teammates.
I flutter my eyelashes for good measure. “I also dance on the bar every Saturday.”
“We can come back on Saturday, right?” The young blond asks, reaching his hand out to shake mine. “I’m Beckett, and you are?”
Mark pushes his hand away. “Out of your league.”
“Still protective after all this time, huh?” I joke. Mark and I know he can’t help himself when it comes to me. “You wouldn’t recognize me, Mark. I can handle myself now.”
He offers a gentle smile. “Even so, I like to think you can still use my protecting.”
I’m not surprised when Mark glares at his teammate, silently daring him to make another move on me. Mark and I managed to find common ground after everything that had happened our Senior year and the weeks following graduation. We’ve never spoken about our short relationship, but he’s always made himself clear; he’d protect me, no matter what, no questions asked.
“It’s safe to assume I’ll always have a soft spot for you somewhere in this cold heart of mine.” Mark looks at me with those familiar soft eyes, reminding me why I found such comfort when I was near him all that time ago. He was my savior without me even knowing. Still, my biggest regret is allowing him to fall for me, knowing I’d never be able to give much back in return.
Bea catches my attention. Her wide eyes and facial expression beg me for an explanation. To put her out of her misery, I wave her over.