In All Senses~
"Good morning, sunshine," a voice murmured. A voice that was thick, deep, warm. But, hidden beneath it all was a pinch of sarcasm as if someone had added the littlest bit too much salt to a recipe.
The girl shivered involuntarily as rough, yet, at the same time, unbelievably soft, fingers grazed the back of her pale, swan neck and giggled because it wasn't even morning any more. A warm breath pulsed against her ear and her heart sputtered, unable to find any sort of sensible rhythm to follow.
The owner of the voice, a boy, was most commonly known as Wally or, to his fellow baseball players, Beatles. And this boy was not hers. In any sense of the term. He belonged to some other girl. A girl that seemed nice enough and was almost painfully beautiful. A girl Kuki knew she would never be even a close second to. And, yet, Wally acted as if Kuki was his.
Kuki clasped the Varsity baseball score book closer to her chest as she let her heart settle into a beat. This season, she was the team manager in return for History extra credit. No one else had wanted the job and it hadn't taken the Oriental teenager very long to figure out why. Most of the boys were pigs, but Wally was never anything short of a gentleman.
"Hi, Wally," Kuki breathed, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she felt.
He usually sat with her during the games because he had thrown out his shoulder batting. The raven haired girl prayed that this slightly chilly, but gorgeously bright, Sunday was not an exception. Wally smiled a boyish grin in her direction, flicking some golden hair out of his clear blue eyes. Kuki begged herself not to blush.
"So, manager, how's it going?" He leaned over and his tan hands were again placed against the porcelain skin at her neck, massaging softly.
This boy drove her absolutely crazy. She wanted so badly to be able to walk away from him. To be able to lean away from his touch, ignore his compliments. But there weren't other boys that made her feel like Wally did. Special, beautiful, flawless, perfection. She should move away; she knew she should move away. Kuki found herself leaning back into his hands.
She thought of his girlfriend with that long, long, brown hair. She pictured Wally's face when he talked about this girl; eyes bright, smile wide. He loved her. And Kuki didn't want to get in the way of that. She couldn't be that girl.
"Beatles! Get over here and make yourself useful for once in your life!" The head coach, also Kuki's History teacher, yelled.
As the other boys snickered something along the lines of 'cock-blocked' at Wally, Kuki opened her blue-gray eyes that she didn't even remember closing and let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.
She watched the devastatingly good-looking boy jog lazily out to the field. Kuki often couldn't help but wonder if her golden haired nuisance treated all girls like this. Was she just a toy? So that he didn't get bored with his girlfriend?
Kuki looked up to find that Wally had jogged back to the dugout. He reached out, capturing a strand of ebony hair in his fingers. He placed it near his nose and then approached her closer, burying his nose in her thick, dark hair for a fraction of a second. "You smell like a Sunday afternoon," he told her. And with that, he loped away again.
Before she realized how little sense those words made, her heart took off like a rocket, the dreaded blush pooled in her pale cheeks, she sniffed her hair without thinking, and Kuki realized something. She didn't care what she was to this boy. It was impossible for her to stay away from the cocky, charming, funny Wally Beatles. In all senses of the term, she was completely doomed. And she just didn't particularly care.
A/N: From the land of random, unfinished ficlets this has come! The line "You smell like a Sunday afternoon" should be accredited to a wonderfully infuriating boy whom I work with. Hoped you at least kind of liked it, maybe?