Out of His League

When life throws you curveballs, you run

In my defense, I tripped – on a baseball of all things. It was a complete accident. And well, it's not like he seemed to mind the kiss too much. He flinched at first contact, completely understandable. I invaded his personal space, and we're currently joined at the lips in what's considered a rather intimate act. What defied logic was that we kept kissing. On the ground. With me on top of him. For anyone's ease of viewing in the school courtyard. The kiss should've been more awkward, uncomfortable, and painful, given that it was my first lip-to-lip kiss with another human, and I started the kiss with a headbutt; but it wasn't. It feels awkward only for a few seconds before he inhales sharply, and we sink deeper into each other. His hands slide down a few centimeters, closing around my waist. I expect him to shove me off, but in another logic-defying move, he brings me closer to him.

It's a hug but with lips, a long peck, completely PG, and the kiss is quite nice. Nice enough for me to forget a large number of things, including the fact that I had tripped on a baseball, fallen on top of a random, unknown boy, and locked lips with his. Nice enough for me to want to melt more into his broad, solid chest and sigh pleasurably– the realization that I'm kissing a stranger and enjoying it hits me hard like a high-velocity foul ball.

Nope, nope, this is not happening right now, absolutely not.

I gasp and push myself off him, screeching in horror and frantically trying to wipe my mouth free of whatever germs he might be carrying.

Random Kissing Partner, on the other hand, sits up silently and blinks owlishly, lips parted and appearing purplish like they've been bruised and chest rising like he's just run a few laps. His cheeks are flushed red, all the way to his ears and down his neck. His light brown hair and red cheeks make him look like a toasted chestnut. Oh. He's cute, like really cute, which is when I realize exactly who I had just been–

Oh no.

This is Seido's resident pretty boy, the star catcher of Seido's baseball team, Miyuki Kazuya.

To any other high school girl, kissing Miyuki Kazuya might be a dream, a wish come true, something of a defining moment in their lives, a start to some juicy romantic Korean romance drama. For me, it's a nightmare, a permanent stain in my life haunting every other kiss I might have in the future. Ah, that's it, I just won't kiss anyone ever again. I'll just go crawl into a hole and die.

The problem isn't that Miyuki Kazuya is cute or that he's a year above me and that I kissed him. The problem is that all throughout grade school and junior high, I played baseball with boys, and I was damn good too. Good enough that I struck out boys, some of whom had no problem joining Seido's baseball team; but not good enough to get a single invite to play baseball in Tokyo. Not good enough to push my application through Seido's baseball team as a walk-on despite having a 0.489 batting average and a 3.80 earned run average in junior high, which by the way, is better than some of the other first-year walk-ons. The problem is my history with baseball coupled with my personal goal of staying away from baseball in high school to save myself the heartache, and I just kissed the star baseball player at my school. Oh, and the cherry on top is that he's a catcher, and I was a pitcher in junior high. Ironic, right? This is seriously good enough to be the plotline of a romance manga.

This is fine, totally fine, no biggie. He's probably kissed lots of girls, considering his good looks...and how good of a kisser he is. I'll do him a favor, act like nothing happened, and run out of here. We'll never see each other again. Yep, great plan, Sugawara Kouki, the perfect pitching strategy he'd appreciate. I hop to my feet, earning me a slight flinch from Miyuki Kazuya. Mortification hits me like it's a slap to the face. Dear god, he's scared of me. I've traumatized him.