Loving Kinnick

You're Trying Too Hard To Be My Friend

I didn't mean to stare, but he was intriguing, and it felt right. His pale yellow hoodie shined bright under the afternoon sunlight as he stood directly below a window. While he talked to his friends in the cafeteria, I sat at a table trying to focus on my notes.

Classes are taking off, and it's the first day of a new semester. A list of assignments was posted in our classroom portal. If I wanted to stay on top of my homework, then I need to do it now. But I saw him first. Now the blank document in front of me is no longer important because the way his blue eyes are catching the sunlight is.

I wondered how different class would have been if I didn't know him. I'd find myself drawn to him, regardless. A man like him doesn't stay hidden. No one has eyes like his or carries themself the way he does.

My eyes stayed on him as he backed up to his table until he was perched on the top. His height had him towering over his friends and everybody else. It's as if he was declaring himself king, and no one was protesting his inauguration.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing from my seat and gathering my things so I could thank him for what he did earlier. It was either that or I wanted to talk to him. Either way, a gravitational pull had me coming for him. He didn't notice me walking toward him until one of his friends, covered in tattoos, said something.

"Are you lost?"

"No," my head moved back and forth. "I'm here to thank Kinnick for what he did earlier."

The green-eyed man looked at Kinnick with amusement. "Did you do it in an empty classroom?"

My eyebrows moved in confusion, wondering what he meant. I could tell by the disgust on Kinnick's face meant it was nothing good. His tattooed arm reached out, smacking his friend's shoulder, shutting him up instantly.

"You sound better when your mouth is shut," Kinnick growled.

His jaw tightened, and only then did I notice the muscles hiding behind his perfect skin. I looked between him and his friends. Each of them shared a common interest - acting like a bad boy. The only difference between them and Kinnick - Kinnick wasn't acting.

Their eyes fell on me. I felt a sudden heat taking over my body as if I knew I was overstaying my welcome. No one needed to say a thing - the atmosphere spoke first. Just as I bid my goodbye and started walking away, Kinnick's voice was asking me to stop.

"You have an apology," he looked down at his friend. "Let her hear it."

The green-eyed boy covered in tattoos looked at me. "What I said was disrespectful, and I'm sorry."

"What's your name, pretty girl?" Another man from the group spoke.

I looked at his hazel-eyes and thought about fall. When it starts to cool down, candy stores put out brown suckers with a green center. I couldn't think of a better way to describe his eyes. And his hair resembles blacktop roads after it has rained - shiny and dark.

I tried not to make my stare obvious, but I couldn't help it. He wore clothes similar to the men around him, not style, but black. Both his jeans and shirt are tattered. Holes varied around the clothing - not because it's old, but because it was made that way.

"I'm Bo," I introduce myself. "Boston Bennett, to be exact."

His hazel-eyes darted to look at Kinnick, but the fighter shot him a look that stole any of the words the boy was going to say. He shifted his attention back to me.

"You're the girl he's training?"

He adjusted his nose ring, giving me a smirk while I watched. I stared at his hands, covered in silver rings, wondering how he avoided getting them caught in his hair.