Spring Slam

"I want to ask -you-."

Kennedy held me with a serious stare, her fingers twisting against each other in a fidgety, nervous motion.

"And I'm happy to help."

"So. This is the first one." She held out her arms to indicate that the first shirt in question was the one she was currently wearing, the long-sleeve gray t-shirt. The shirt was long, and fit a little bit snugly.

"I like it!" I wasn't lying. "This one looks really good on you!"

"Really? I mean you're not just saying that, are you?"

"No! It's the truth. You look good in it, Kennedy. But to be honest, well..." I couldn't believe the words were coming out of my

mouth. "...Kennedy, you would look great in anything."

I'd said it. I held my breath. Kennedy half-smiled, half-pouted, and punched me in the shoulder, hard. It actually hurt.

"Stop it." She was looking down, embarrassed but still smiling.

"No, really. I mean it."

"Ok well you have to see the other one, too. Close your eyes..."

I did so. As much as I would have loved to look, I didn't dare violate Kennedy's wishes. Eyes closed, I felt the gray shirt she'd been wearing fall into my lap. A few seconds later, she spoke again.

"OK you can look."

I opened my eyes. Kennedy stood before me wearing a pink t-shirt, almost sleeveless, a little mesh pattern along the v-neck. I admired the freckles of Kennedy's upper arms, strong and shapely. The shirt was a little loose on her chest, a little tight over her belly. It was short - just barely covering her skin where it met her jeans. I hoped she would raise her arms. I took a breath.

"Well?" A shy little smile.

"This one, Kennedy. This is the one, for sure."

"For sure? For real you're sure?"

I gently grabbed the hem of the shirt, careful not to actually touch Kennedy's stomach, and pulled very gently.

"This is the shirt."

"But - but it's pink!"

"And it's beautiful."

Now Kennedy sat on the edge of the bed, on my left, right next to me, and I looked into her eyes, and was surprised, this close to her face, how young she looked. Her expression was cute and curious and mischievous and vulnerable and oh my god she looked younger than I'd been visualizing when I imagined her face, and what in the hell was wrong with me?

"You -really- think it's beautiful."

"Oh god, so beautiful, Kennedy."

Kennedy answered, barely above a whisper.

"Thanks, Coach."

"Kennedy."

"What?"

"Is there something between - I mean, I mean, are we- are we close, Kennedy? You and me?"

Nodding her head wordlessly, Kennedy looked directly into my eyes.

"You don't have to call me 'Coach.' You can call me 'Chris.' I -want- you to call me 'Chris.'"

"Chris." Another whisper.

"Kennedy."

And I turned toward her, and she looked at me, and her face was so very close, and her lips looked so inviting, and I started to move my face toward hers, but just as I did she was standing, standing and snapping out of our mutual trance, and spoke.

"Oh my god I've gotta go before they wonder where I am!"

"Yes, y-yes, I guess you should."

"Ok thanks then! And I'll see you...-Chris-."

She winked and pointed two fingers at me ad she spoke my name in a funny voice, a lower voice, as if she were making fun of herself for calling me by my first name, or of me for wanting to be called by it, or simply releasing the tension between us.

"Later, Kennedy."

"Later...-Chris-"

After she had looked each way down the hallway, she exited and scampered a few steps away from my door before acting nonchalant. I closed the door and stood there, letting my head rest against it, in awe and in shock.

I shifted in my seat, on the bus, on the way home, thinking about the night that had followed. I never left my room. I didn't eat. I don't think I could have. It had been maybe an hour before I'd lifted my head from the door.

Pacing, sweating, hyperventilating. I'd almost kissed her. I was -going- to kiss her. I was in the process of it, already in the action of leaning into the face of one of my high school softball players, with the intention to place a tender, passionate kiss on her lips. I was actually in the act of doing it, for real, and what in the hell was wrong with me? I knew, however, that no matter how much I scolded myself for this complicated position I'd put myself in, that if I had the opportunity again, I would do it again. I was going to kiss Kennedy.

I couldn't sleep, obviously. I lay awake until sometime around two, when I realized how I could check on something I'd been worried about.

I had access to the school athletic intranet. I'd never used it, never needed to, never had an inkling to check it. But I had access. So in the middle of the night, on my laptop through the hotel wi-fi, I found the buried email telling me how to log in, and tried to remember my user name and password.

Several attempts later, I was in. I found the page for Girls Varsity Softball, then scrolled until I found a link labelled "Roster."

I was suddenly staring at a spreadsheet, the leftmost column of which listed the names of our players. I scrolled past Andersen and Diaz and Epperson, past the entire team, until I reached the final row.

White.

Taking my time, I perused this entry lovingly, longingly. My palms were sweaty. My hand shook on the mouse.

---White, Kennedy Nicole.---

Nicole? Nicole. Kennedy Nicole. Hmmm.

Looking slightly to the right, I read on.

---Grade: 12.---

I exhaled loudly. Thank god. I mean, I knew that, Kennedy was a senior, but still. Earlier, looking so closely into her face, Kennedy had appeared shockingly young. I'd been wrong about details before. I didn't want to be wrong about these.

---Student ID: 384557--

OK, sure, sure.

---Address: 2808 Forsyth Street---

Where was that, I wondered.

---Academic Eligibility: Y---

Of course, I thought. Finally, I scrolled slightly to the right and saw the next field come into view. Date of Birth.

I stood up and walked around. Wiped my palms on my shirt. Took a long drink of water. Finally, with a little prayer, I sat back down at the desk, and looked again at the spreadsheet.

---Date of Birth: March 19, 2004.---

Hallelujah. I sighed, let my head collapse onto the desk, and nearly cried for joy. Kennedy was 18. She was 18 years old, and had been 18 years old, a legal adult, for almost three whole weeks.

She'd had a birthday, just a few weeks ago. No one that I knew of had mentioned it.

If I thought this reassurance would help me sleep, I was wrong. Knowing Kennedy's exact age just reinforced to me how very young she was, this girl I'd almost kissed. 2004. God damn. I'd been in my mid-twenties. When Kennedy was entering the world as a newborn, I'd been newly married to Caitlin. I was a couple years into my first real job, and volunteering on the Howard Dean presidential campaign. That seemed like...well, if not like yesterday, then like the day before. That's when Kennedy was born?

2004. Two thousand four. The two thousands. I'd nearly kissed a girl born this century. It seemed surreal.

I knew, however, that I wanted her. I was beginning to believe, more and more, that she wanted me, too. But there was no question. Kennedy was amazing, and I only wanted to be with her.

The final two games, the following day, had been fun. The Lady Bobcats of Northwest High won both of them, easily, and everyone was in a good mood. I coached from our normal dugout along the third base line, enjoying an occasional warm glance from Kennedy as she adjusted the brim of her green ballcap, tucked her hair back behind her ear, blew a bubble, and just looked at me. I melted each time.

I sighed recalling the banquet that night. Kennedy again wore her "dress-up" clothes, that denim skirt and white shirt, with her nicer tennis shoes. If she wasn't as formal as the others, she made up for it in her haul of awards. All night long she heard her name called as she went up to the stage to collect a plaque or trophy for best at her position, top slugger, most valuable player, grit award, and on and on as her teammates cheered.

Afterward, I'd watched her teammates congratulate her, then turned to walk back to my own room. I was rounding the corner to my own door when I heard a voice behind me.

"Chris!"

I looked back to see Kennedy walking quickly after me.

"Kennedy! Oh my god! Congratulations - you deserve every award."

Kennedy smiled, just a little.

"Seriously. I'm proud of you. You played awesome this week."

"I have to go, really, I just..."

"I know."

"You do know."

"I do."

"I just wanted to see you."

"Kennedy."

And with those whispered words, and a quick glance down the hall to be sure we were alone, as Kennedy's hand found mine, sliding against it, interlocking fingers, I leaned in to Kennedy's irresistible face, and pressed my lips against hers, her adorable, full soft lips, and felt Kennedy's lips press against mine softly, very softly, then firm, then softly again, as her whole chest inflated then exhaled, and her fingers trembled, and her lips felt so very, very wonderful.

Oh god. Opening my eyes I looked into hers, light blue pools of wonder, and focused on the entirety of her face, amazed again at just how very young Kennedy looked, then sighed, and leaned my forehead against hers.

"Oh Kennedy."

"Oh. Oh Chris oh wow."

"You'd better go, before, you know..."

"Don't wanna." A dare-me-to-go smile, saucy and sweet, lit up Kennedy's face.

"Me neither."

"But I better."

With that, Kennedy started to take her hand out of mine and began walking away, glancing back with a smile as she held onto my fingers, just barely, then let them slip apart, still walking, carrying her bag of awards.

That night, I lay awake reliving every microsecond of that incredible kiss. I did so again now, on the bus, in the dark, feeling my erection grow as I recalled exactly how Kennedy's lips felt against mine, the soft sweet smell of her breath, the surprising, almost shocking softness of Kennedy's hand, of her lips, of her cheek brushing mine ever so slightly.

Kennedy was strong, and stocky, and oh so cute but somehow so very fierce that the softness, the smoothness of her, it was like a secret treasure. I smiled and sighed, recalling the feeling of the skin of her hand against mine, her fingers intertwined with my fingers, her soft, moist lips. Holy fuck.

That kiss had been just the appetizer. The following morning, I sat in the bleachers and watched Kennedy represent the team at the sparsely attended home run derby. No one cared. Her teammates were all either in the pool, or flirting with boys, or both. Not even Coach Reece had bothered to come. So I sat next to Kennedy, watching her competition alongside her, our knees almost touching, our hands both on the bleacher between us, as close as possible to each other without being obvious.

Kennedy wore the hideous yellow uniform. Still, she was gorgeous. I smiled at her and she smiled back, eye black beneath those beautiful blue eyes, the brim of her green hat nearly touching my forehead. I wanted to kiss her so bad, ached for it with everything I had. I wanted her. I wondered what it might be like kissing Kennedy while she wore that ballcap. Would I be able to get in there, past the bill? Oh god she was amazing, perfect in every way. Kennedy blew a bubble in my direction, a growing pink globe that popped and coated her lips and chin, and for a long second she just left it there, smiling at me through it l, and I melted inside, just crumbled. God, I was hooked.

Eventually, Kennedy stepped to the plate to take her turn. I enjoyed watching her swing, watching her knock ball after ball over the fence. She almost won. I gave her a high ten when she returned to the bleachers, and had to stop myself from holding on, threading my fingers between hers, leaning in close, oh god I wanted it so much.

It seemed strange that it had been just this morning. The whole week blended together into a kind of sleepless continuous day, a time outside of time. Just this morning, Kennedy and I walked back to the hotel from the field, walked side-by-side through the deserted parts of the sprawling conference center, acres of empty beige-carpeted and neutral-wallpapered wasteland, walked to avoid arriving at either of our rooms, walked until we found ourselves in a seemingly forgotten hallway of empty banquet rooms, and Kennedy's hand found mine.

Kennedy held my hand, and I held hers, and I still couldn't believe this was real. Exploring, we opened the door to a nearly dark, spacious empty room, and wandered around hand-in-hand. Against the back corner we found an uncomfortable hotel sofa, and collapsed onto it together.

Once again, I pressed my lips against Kennedy's, the bill of her hat bumping my forehead. Kennedy laughed, and turned her hat around backwards. Kissing harder, then softer as Kennedy kissed me harder, then softer, I reached up and very, very gently caressed the side of Kennedy's face, her smooth cheek, her jaw, her chin.

"Oh my god, Chris." She whispered it, whispered into my face, Kennedy's pale forehead leaning against mine. "Oh holy wow oh Chris I can't believe you really like, really like me, I mean just...you're like so...wow."

"No, Kennedy. You're so wow."

She smiled, and laughed out loud into my face. "No -you're- so wow." My lips found hers again, and again, and a much longer, lingering again.

My hands on Kennedy's shoulders, I leaned back, horizontal on the couch, and she followed, lying on top of me. I was a little surprised by the weight of her body, actually feeling Kennedy press down on me, heavier than I expected, but so very sweet, an unbearably cute, adorably sexy athletic body. We took our time, kissing some more, closed lips against soft beautiful closed lips, little pecks, long firm contact, softer smacks. The air conditioning cut off and in the sudden, surprising silence I could hear the little smacks of her lips, the excited pant of Kennedy breathing.

"Chris, you know I...you know that I've never...that, like...you're the first boy I ever kissed, Chris!"

"Oh Kennedy, I..."

"I just want you to know."

After she let her hand rest on my chest, I let my hand caress Kennedy's while I kissed her, both lips, then just her top lip, soft and large, then just her bottom lip, pouty and beautiful, over and over. Eventually, feeling bold, I opened my mouth just slightly and let my tongue just graze Kennedy's bottom lip, feeling it, tasting it, enjoying Kennedy's soft laugh at what I was doing, then enjoying the feeling of her lips parting, and slipping my tongue into Kennedy's mouth, oh my god.

Kennedy's mouth felt soft and warm and wonderful. Her tongue, thick and strong, thrust into my mouth, then retreated and then thrust again, slowly again and again, hard and wet and sloppy. Kennedy panted loudly, excited and aroused. She tasted like the pink bubblegum she'd been chewing earier, and her every little sigh was a new kind of heaven.

Her chest pressed against mine, the hideous yellow uniform between us. We rocked together, my tongue deep in Kennedy's mouth, Kennedy's tongue in mine, in me, and I pulled the backward hat off Kennedy's sexy young head and dropped it onto my head, backward. I let my fingers run gently through Kennedy's hair, soft and straight and smooth, playing with the end of her little bob at her jaw, my god. I think I'd always thought Kennedy was a little bit funny looking with this haircut, this particular style on her particular face; how had I never noticed how cute, how beautiful, how goddamn sexy she was?

"Mmmmmmm. Hmmmmm. Oooooohhh." Kennedy was anything but quiet in enjoying the moment. Her precious freckled face in my left hand, I let my right slip down her back, caressing all of its width, feeling her amazing back through the stretchy uniform material, running my fingers in the gaps around the sewn-on number five. Kennedy's chest pressed hard against mine, her hips rocking into my stomach. Kennedy was much shorter than me, and her crotch rested somewhere above my pelvis, so she was unable to feel the erection in my shorts that was becoming unbearable.

"Hee he hheee hee." An adorable laugh, as Kennedy rubbed her face against mine. "You're cute."

"-You- are cute."

"Oh god oh god oh god." Kennedy thrust her tongue back into my mouth, and again, and again, and again, sounding almost orgasmic. I wondered how she would sound if we ever, actually...

Should I be thinking about that? With her?

I was obviously thinking about that. With her.

Was Kennedy thinking about it too? About that? With me?

Kennedy's tongue was swirling around mine, sloppily, her hands clasped together behind my neck, when we heard the loud THUMP outside the door to whatever cavernous room this was. We froze immediately, tongues still inside each others' mouths.

"What was that?" A very soft whisper directly into my mouth just after Kennedy disconnected her lips and tongue from mine. Immediately, more banging. Someone was pushing some kind of cart just outside the door. Kennedy tensed up. Her body felt tight against mine. She was terrified.

"Maybe we should sneak back, Kennedy."

"Yeah yeah yeah. C'mon."

Within a minute I was standing by the door, peeking around the corner making sure we were clear as Kennedy stood directly behind me, her arms wrapped tight around my torso, holding her breath, nearly shaking. The coast was clear, and we fled.

Walking back toward the rooms, we didn't dare hold hands, but we let them brush against each other as we went. I admired Kennedy's beautifully disheveled hair, not even realizing that her ballcap was still on my own head, backwards. Just before our paths split, Kennedy grabbed it from atop my head, put it on her own, and smiled, blowing me a little kiss.

The idea was to leave in the evening, after supper, and drive through the night, arriving in the morning. It would save a night's hotel cost and besides, everyone wanted a full weekend before returning to school. But this, I knew, would be another night without sleep. And I was crazy nervous sick about what lay on the other end of the journey.

Gathered around the bus, in the last light of the day, Coach Reece had checked attendance and verified rides.

"So Kennedy, you need a ride home too, right?"

"Oh I already asked Coach Schraeder. He said he would drive me."

"Great. I'll check you off then."

I had? I looked at Kennedy, who gave me a very slight, barely noticeable little smile. She looked down, smiling, and I held my breath. Kennedy was showered and cleaned up now, wearing gray cotton athletic shorts and a faded red t-shirt. Her bare feet once again rested in those black slides and I tried not to stare, tried not to think too much about her magnificent body, tried not to wonder just how thoroughly I might be allowed to explore it. Assume nothing, I reminded myself, which was difficult when Kennedy, boarding the bus, had to stop right next to my seat and wait while I sat on her right, her large bag slung over her left shoulder, and she leaned, her hip pressing into my shoulder for just a second. I could do nothing but pretend I didn't care, pretend that I wasn't burning with excitement and desire.

The instant the lights of the city came into view, I could hardly catch my breath. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen soon. I felt light-headed. I wanted...I wanted her, I wanted Kennedy. The desire had grown over the week, and now was raging. My god, I never imagined. But what did she want? What did Kennedy want, really? She was only eighteen, a newly minted grown-up. Could she be sure? Did she even know what she wanted? I hoped I wasn't pressuring her into doing something, that I wasn't making some mistake I could never un-make. I felt lightheaded.