I stood there quietly, looking for a team. I spotted a group of friendly-looking girls, and they seemed to be missing one more person. They weren't actively looking for another girl. Instead they seemed too interested in talking to one another.

I jumped at the chance, not wanting to be placed into a group by a teacher. It always seemed so forced when the group agreed to have someone else join like that. It always made me feel even more awkward than I already felt in PE class.

I walked up to them, and I smiled softly, trying to look as happy as possible. It was all forced, but no one wanted to have an unhappy person join them.

"Can I join you guys?" I asked.

They all shrugged. It wasn't exactly inviting, but I wasn't expecting anything else from them. They all seemed like friends, and I was a stranger.

A little brunette grabbed my arm, and she hugged it tightly.

"You can be on my team," she said happily.

I smiled down at her. She was nice, sort of. I was just happy that one of them would at least embrace me like I was one of them. It would make the next hour pass by a lot faster.

We all divided up, and my team was winning surprisingly. I managed to fall only once, and I didn't hit anyone with the basketball quite yet. Everything was going smoothly for me. Well, until I saw him again.

He had his arms folded across his chest as he was looking at me. Well, I think he was looking at me. For some odd reason, he had a smirk on his lips.

I felt myself become unnerved. He was just there openly staring at me. Did he have no shame?

Why would he look at me? I was nothing special. I knew my own faults. I knew that my long black hair wasn't soft and had split ends. I knew that my blue eyes were surprisingly dull. My body wasn't anything amazing either. I didn't have all the right curves that most men seemed to enjoy. I was just fairly average.

He was still staring at me, and I didn't even think of how awkward I was, staring right back at him.

All of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain on my right cheek. I was flung to the ground, and it took me a while to register what had happened to me.

Turns out, the basketball that I was so worried about hiting someone with had smacked me across the right side of my face. Sports were going to continue haunting me throughout this year as well.

"I'm so sorry."

I couldn't really see straight, but I could tell it was the small brunette, who was on my team. I let my vision clear up a bit, before I responded back to her words.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"No, you should go get some ice for your face." She said.

I frowned. Was my face swelling up or something? Did it look terrible?

I quickly turned my head, looking for him.

Did he see me get smacked by the ball? Who was I kidding? Of course he saw me get hit! He was probably laughing about me right now too. He was probably with his friends, telling them all about me.

I sighed deeply, when I saw he was no longer there.

So did he see me get hit? Yes, I was sure he at least saw that. Did he laugh at me? Did he find it so amusing that he had to go catch his breath?

I was holding my face in my hands, trying to force the pain to stop with pressure. It wasn't really working, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of getting hit by a basketball. I was sure it had to happen at least once a day.

"Here, I'll take her to the nurse," a voice said.

The guy's voice wasn't familiar to me. It was rough and smooth and a little suave. It was obviously a man's voice, and it wasn't Coach Harris's voice. So who was he?

I gasped, when I saw him. It was him, the guy that keeps on staring at me. So why was he volunteering to take me to the nurse's office?

"Okay, you can take her; you look big. You should pick her up too," the brunette's voice said.

That certainly straightened my senses up a bit. What was this girl thinking? How was that a normal response to getting hit in the face? Surely I wasn't the only one who thought being carried off to the nurse's office was completely absurd.

"No," I shouted.

The guy and the brunette was staring at me oddly. He was even looking at me.. a little sad? Who knows what kind of emotion that was. I was just frantic to not have him touch me.

He still managed to chuckle lightly.

"It looks like she can stand on her own, right?" He said.

I nodded happily, and I tried my best to stand up on my own. Unfortunately, I stumbled a bit, and I managed to trip over my own legs. It had nothing to do with my injury; I was just unlucky enough that my legs wanted to be clumsy all of a sudden.

I felt big strong arms wrapped around my waist, and I felt my face flush. It was more out of nervousness than it was about embarrassment. I didn't even know this guy, and he had his arms wrapped around me. It was almost repulsing.

"Okay, maybe she can't stand," he said chuckling.

I looked up at him. He had a wide grin on his face, while I was about to freak out. Did he realize that his hands was on my waist? Why wasn't he freaking out?

"No, I can stand." I said.

I could feel my legs shaking. The girl was just shaking her head. I slowly raised myself off of his body.

I could tell by their body postures that they were unsure of my stability. I was unsure as well. I was still nervous from how easy he was able to touch me, and I didn't want him to do it again.

"Just hold her," the girl said quickly.

He shrugged slightly, and he quickly grabbed me up. I nearly died from the shock. Worst of all, he was holding me bridal style. I had to fight back tears that threatened to appear in my eyes.

I did not feel comfortable at all. I wanted to be let down. I wanted to limp the whole way to the nurse's office. I wanted to disappear. I wanted him gone.

"I don't need to be carried," I said softly.

He just chuckled.

"I'm sure," he said. He was grinning again, and he had very noticeable dimples.

Maybe he wasn't completely bad.