Love Knows No Color

Ch 1: Rivals

Alexis

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"I don't really like white guys," I shrugged at McKayla as we watched a stocky, tan Senior pass our empty lunch table. He scowled at me. "They're just not my type."

Her light brown face formed an appalled expression. "But they're soooo hot!"

"And arrogant," I add, "Don't forget arrogant."

She groans and get's up to throw her tray away.

"You know whose a really cute white guy?" She starts up again as we walk back to 7th period early.

I sigh, knowing she'd tell me anyway, "Who?"

She points across the deserted hall to Drake Sandler. He had a girl pushed up against the blue and gold lockers. His arms were on both sides of her, blocking her as if she'd want to move from someone like him.

I scowl at Kayla. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." She smirked and pop the "P."

"He's an arrogant ass Kayla. I would know. I have two classes with the douche."

She motioned her right hand at him, "Look at him Lexi. He has a reason to be!"

Even though she was right, I would never tell her. His clear blue eyes, toned tall body, and fluffy brown hair would drive any girl crazy.

But not me.

White guys are too cocky. I would know. I dated one before. Tyler Hawkins. Tan, muscular, jock, but also an arrogant jerk. He used to talk in third person. It was cute for a while but hearing, "Tyler Hawkins wants a sandwich, babe." every time I came over his house got seriously annoying. Thank God he moved to Canada.

But yea, white guys are egotistic jerks, especially Drake Sandler. He was known for taking virginities quicker than a flashed camera shot.

I kind of felt sorry for the Blondie. But that only lasted for the few seconds I didn't notice what she was wearing.

Her thin hot pink thong sprouted out of the sides of her short shorts. They barely covered her upper thighs. It makes me wonder how she made it through the whole day without being suspended for violating the dress code. I watched her as she grinned in his face while twirling her over dyed blonde hair.

"Drake sure does pick 'em classy." McKayla snorted as we walked past.

I covered my giggling mouth, but it was too late. Drake took his attention from the girl and locked eyes with me. A scowled formed.

"Don't you brainiacs have somewhere to be?"

I stopped two feet away from him and smirked, "Do we have a problem white boy?"

He backed away from her a came inches to my face. If I wasn't almost his height, his 6'1 frame would be towering over me.

"Do we black girl?"

I folded my arms and shrugged, "I asked you, dude."

His face formed a soft smirk, "Yes, actually we will. We have a game 8th period remember?"

Who could forget. The whole school has been talking about it since Monday. It's Friday and I'm ready to take him and his pack of steroids down.

"That's right." I give him a tight smile. "Get ready."

"How bout you tell that to your prissy cheerleaders."

He walked back to the now pouting blonde. Kayla tugged at my left hand and groaned.

"C'mon! Stop flirting. You know how I hate to be on time for class."

Drake arched his head back into a loud laugh. "Ha! She wished!"

"That you'd go jump off a bridge!" I add as soon as the bell ringed, ending our lunch. Other Juniors filled the hall and Kayla groaned at the failed effort to get to class early.

While Mr. Hanks scribbled on the board about the Scientific Method, McKayla passed me our notebook we used to secretly communicate with each other during the classes we have together.

On a new page I saw,

"I didn't know you hung out with Drake Sandler 8th period! I thought you hated him!' She even drew a little ":O" to show her excitement.

"I don't. I do." I simply reply back.

"Then why did he say, 'WE have a game 8th period'"?

"We're both head players on the schools rival volleyball teams. I told you earlier this semester!"

Girls vs. Guys every last Friday of the month. The administration thought about it when a group of girls, me being one of them, stormed into their office one morning last year and demanded to play against or with the guys in sports. The administration, being mostly girls, was all in for it. They even held tryouts. I was chosen head player, so was Drake for the male side. I knew we were going to be enemies the first day we met. He was the dumb, cocky, self-centered jerk, that every highschool has. Ususally they're on the football team.

We constantly collided the first day of practice. Mr. Jock thought it was cool to make sexist jokes at my team, so I punched him in the face. Our coaches thought it would be a good idea to take our new anger for eachother and make the first game a one on one.

Drake vs. Me

I won. Which made him hate me more.

"Oooooh." She writes.

"Duh." I reply back.

When Mr. Hanks finally stops lecturing, Kayla walks over to my desk and puts our notebook in her bag. She's always kept every chat notebook we've ever made, fearing I'd lose them.

"I wish I had study Hall 8th block." She pouted, "I would of skipped to go."

I smiled. That's why I loved her. Total geek, yet always eager to break the rules. If only her teachers knew what a real bad ass she was. Kayla's warm smile and big brown eyes always hid her wicked side in school. She wasn't as bad as the other girls in our neighborhood, but she wasn't far from it. Her parents thought she was "perfect straight A's McKayla Anderson. Not "sneak across town to her white boyfriends house everynight McKayla Anderson."

"It just would be nice to see you and Drake Sandler hatefully flirt with each other."

I pointed to my pink crop, "Don't make me barf. I love this shirt."

"Ya know, I used to think you only hated him because he's a womanizer but-"

"I do." I point out.

"But," She groans, "The way ya'll were all in each others face an hour ago it looked like you guys liked each other."

"No! I don't even like white guys. How many times do I have to tell you that? And if I ever decided to like a white guy again-which I won't-it sure as hell isn't going to be Drake Sandler."

I pronounced his name like it made a bad taste in my mouth.

Kayla pretended as if she didn't hear a word I said, "Alexis and Draaake sitting in the tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love-"

Her childish teasing was cut off by the signaling of 8th period. Sludging my book bag over my shoulder, I raced to my last anticipated class.

Game time.