It’s funny how the wrong professor can make even the most interesting subject sound boring, isn’t it? That had been your last conscious thought as Mr. MacDonald had droned away about 13th century Anglo-Saxon village life on an unusually warm Thursday afternoon. Normally you loved world history, but fourth period came around just as your lunch was putting you into a food coma, and the hazy warmth of the afternoon was lulling you into the twilight zone of daydreams.

Battling to stay awake would have been impossible if it hadn’t been for her. At 5’10” she already stood half a head taller than the rest of the girls, but her dark auburn hair was a dead giveaway that Katelyn was in the room. She was the only redhead in your school, redhead mind you, not ginger. You remember last year when Kyle Tucker had tried teasing her about being a ginger. He hadn’t even been able to finish his line about not having a soul before the she had slammed him into a locker, forearm at his throat, and delivered a quick gut punched that knocked the air out of him. Everyone had gone dead silent, the only sound in the whole hallway had been Kyle’s wheezing as he gasped.

“I’m a redhead Kyle, got it? If you don’t know what red is I’d be more than happy to show you just how red my fist can be after it’s done with your face. Now get your colour-blind looking ass out of here.”

With a quick shove Kyle retreated to the safety of the crowd that had gathered. And like Moses of old, Katelyn’s athletic frame parted the Red Sea of faces, and with head held high had walked out of the building and into infamy.

No one ever messed with Katelyn after that.

After replaying the memory in your head, you leaned back in your chair and smiled. Katelyn wasn’t a mean girl by any means. But she’d always been competitive, ever since elementary school. And as captain of the girls basketball and volleyball teams, you’d see firsthand just how physical she could be on and off the court. She also ran track and field, and rumor has it that the only reason she hadn’t been team captain there too was because her best friend Stephanie was the only one who could outrun her, so Stephanie was captain instead.

How did you know all this? Well on top of being a history and science nerd, you also happened to write and edit for the school newspaper. So attending sports events featuring the auburn beauty wasn’t an uncommon way to spend your evenings. You may or may not have expanded your journalist duties by interviewing athletes from time to time. And while Kyle hadn’t complained to any of the principles about what happened with Katelyn that day, probably out of embarrassment for being publicly manhandled by a girl, you used it as an opportunity to interview the school’s most badass redhead for an article you were suddenly writing on bullying.

A few days later you’d caught up with her at lunch.

“So what kind of defense does a girl like you have to play off the court here at school when it comes to bullying?” You’d asked.

“Not much really. I feel like most of the bullying that happens at school is towards people who are alone and different. I’m different because I’m tall, and I’m a redhead, but I also don’t take any crap, from anyone.”

As you dutifully jotted down some notes you couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes gleamed as she spoke. Her two deep pools of sapphire with flecks of white seemed to soften as she talked about those who had it rough, but hardened into cold steel when she mentioned not putting up with any BS. You’d known her a long time, but not well enough to gage her moods. You wondered what else you could learn just from her body language.

Everything about Katleyn screamed confidence. Her shoulders were broad, and her arms and legs were well muscled, but defined and slender at the same time. You’d seen her post up a girl 6 inches taller than her on the basketball court, but fly across the finish line of a 10k race with the grace of a gazelle. She almost exclusively wore jeans, or exercise clothes, a product of being in all of the school’s sports. But today she had on something a little more patriotic. Her dark hair was wrapped in a pony tail behind her, a few loose strands falling over her eyes. She wore a red v-cut top that showed an inch or two of cleavage (you’re a guy, how could you not notice?), a royal blue pencil skirt that fit her a little too well, and some red high-top converse. Her almost ivory skin made her outfit the perfect combo of red, white, and blue. The only blemish you could observe was the light freckles around her cheeks and a few on her arms and chest – but still perfect.

You had concluded the interview before she noticed you staring at her, and your article had painted her as a victim turned hero, which only added to her growing reputation. She seemed to walk a little taller that week, and after winning a home basketball game, she’d approached you afterward and given you a surprise hug.

“Sorry I’m all sweaty”, she breathed. You didn’t mind at all. “But I wanted to thank you for mentioning me in your article, I was a little worried I might get in trouble, but now I feel more confident than ever at school. I’m not afraid of anyone!”.

Still surprised at such an affectionate interaction you replied, “I’m glad I could help. And I know you’re not afraid, you scored like 30 points tonight!”

“Yup, and I couldn’t have done it without you. I’ll see you in class!”

And with that the new school celebrity had faded into the rushing crowd of cheering students, eager to savor her victory. You hadn’t talked much since, but seeing each other in class or at sports events was always a plus. What had triggered your memory of this whole event?

Looking across Mr. MacDonald’s classroom you saw her sitting next to Stephanie, the blonde track and field captain, doodling away on a notepad and pretending to listen. She was wearing the same red, white, and blue outfit from your interview last year, and it was still one of your favourites. Just the way her skirt pulled tight around her thighs, and how she always balanced her legs on the balls of her feet, flexing her calves as if she was wearing high heels, made the fabric of your jeans feel a little tight.

As the lesson dragged on you noticed that Katelyn’s attention to her doodle was much more rapt that before. You could tell whenever she was really focused on something because her pink tongue would poke out from her lips. With all of her interest on the drawing, her posture relaxed, and her legs uncrossed, leaving you with a breathtaking view straight up the young woman’s skirt. Between the ivory crests of her thighs, you could spot some dark red panties.

Quickly glancing away before Katleyn, or anyone else for that matter, caught you looking you did your best not to spare. Yet for the next 15 minutes her posture never changed, and despite your best efforts your view always found its way back to her maroon underwear. There was something about it, almost as if it was a secret, she was just sharing with you. A false sense of intimacy swept over you, the same as when you noticed her eyes softening, and all you knew was you wanted to know her better, more intimately.

Finally the tall girls legs closed in again, blocking your view to her crotch, and reality came crashing in. Sitting there trying to hide the intense erection underneath the waistband of your jeans, you sighed in frustration.

She’d never go out with me, we come from two different worlds. Sports and Academics just don’t mix, let alone the fact that she’s way out of my league.  

But something about the memory of her panties still hung in your mind. And the desire to be near her never abated. Pulling out your own notebook you began writing down notes, and drawing up plans for what was bound to be your most insane idea yet.