Logan Ryang and Michelle Jones were once like parallel lines. Two people that were always the same distance apart and never interacted.

This wasn't their own doing. They went to different schools before attending Midtown High School, and once there, they ran in different circles. At the start of freshmen year, neither party were aware of each other. Michelle spent her days ignoring the world, going to and from classes without looking up from her book. Logan spent his time socialising, joining clubs, trying out for the baseball team. One wouldn't acknowledge the other as they passed in the hallway, always the same distance apart, unaware the other even existed.

It was clockwork, how easily they would just barely miss each other. Their lockers were separated by two others, and still they were oblivious to each other. Michelle was at her locker one moment, and when she closed it and walked away, he would go to his. When they took the subway home, they would take the same subway car, but sit down across from each other. The same distance apart, never interacting.

Now, they weren't completely oblivious of one another. Names spread in freshmen classes, and Logan and Michelle were two of the many student not safe from this. Especially when you're the new pitcher for the baseball team, the first freshmen in nearly six years to make that spot, and you're the weirdo girl who doesn't really care about her looks or her reputation or making friends or even talking in general. Logan had heard of Michelle, Michelle had heard of Logan, but neither cared enough to keep the name in mind for further thought. Their names were just words that they were likely to forget.

One day, in freshmen year, in the first week back from winter break, these parallel lines began to converge.

Both started their day as normal, taking the same subway car, sitting in the same seat across from each other, either plugged into their music or still trying to wake up enough to function in order to get on with the rest of the school day. They walked to their respective lockers, and separated like every other day. Their days were very different. Michelle spent most of it either debating with teachers or reading whatever book appealed to her in the library at lunchtime. Logan spent the day with his friends from the baseball team, enjoying every moment of social interaction he had that was separated by classes(although it really didn't stop him from at least trying to talk), and discussing team tactics at lunch. They lived their lives as they wanted to, and not having anything to do with the other person neither hindered or improved them in any way.

When P.E rolled around, they walked into the gym side by side, not feeling the need to chat or speak at all. Logan had to wait for his friend anyway, and Michelle had started a new book which she wished to give it her undivided attention. Both sat in the bleachers of the gym until the rest of the class filtered in, and coach Wilson trudged up to the bleachers to tell them what they were doing for the day. Basketball, something Michelle disliked immensely, and something Logan wasn't too fond of either. Wilson than split the class into teams, and the games commenced. Michelle narrowed her eyes at her team members, before shaking her head and sitting back down, returning to her page. She tuned out the sounds of shouting and yelling as she focused on the words of Maya Angelou, resting her elbows on her knees. She was almost positive her team could play without her. She glanced back up at her team, who were high-fifing each other as one took a layup. Coach Wilson took a few steps toward her, raised a brow, before shaking his head and walking away. Michelle smirked, god bless teachers that didn't give a shit.

Meanwhile, across the hall, Logan was watching his teammate fail to get a free throw into the basket. The girl winced at herself as a few sniggers came from the girls, with some of the guys giving her an odd look. Logan didn't know why kids his age did this, why they felt the need to make fun of someone who wasn't as sporty as others. In fact, most of the kids in this gym would rather watch paint dry than do P.E, so why did idiots like the guy next to him feel the need to prove that they are better than throwing a ball into a net than the next guy. "Hey, good job." he said. "Next time, try and get it near the basket." said girl turned an embarrassing crimson shade, clashing with her school provided blue PE kit.

Everyone got back into their original positions, but not before Logan shot a look to the guy. He recognised the guy, he was one of the boys who warmed the bench at baseball matches. Rory, he thought his name was. "Hey, knock it off, okay man?"

Rory just scoffed at him before returning to the game. Logan's gaze followed him for a few moments before someone from his team tapped his back, as if to remind him that he was still in the game. He snapped out of his rage filled moment, before sprinting to take the ball off the other team. His teammate had hung back after her free-throw, not really doing anything, probably scared to. Logan gave her a small smile which she meekly returned, pushing up her glasses. Meanwhile, Rory was laughing obnoxiously with his friends, not so discreetly glancing over at her. Her smile faltered, and she played with the hem of her t-shirt, continuing to grow more embarrassed. He swallowed hard, jaw clenching at the disdain he felt for the boys on his baseball team. Why were they so cocky, it was just a high school team. They was nothing to pay attention to, especially considering their less than impressive string of loses. They weren't the top of the food chain, so they should stop acting like it.

"Seriously?" he blurted out, much to the chagrin of his teammate, but right now he didn't care. This was just unacceptable behaviour, that was his train of thought when he stomped over to them, his small fourteen year old chest heaving and his tunnel vision zoning in Rory and his lackeys. "You're gonna act like this?"

Rory shot him a look, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Like what?" he parroted back, scoffing. "We weren't doing anything."

It was so obvious, so painstakingly obvious that it was beginning to make Logan's blood boil. "You were being jackasses and laughing at her." he didn't point, didn't want to embarrass her any further(even though she was absolutely dying of it, although not many knew he was talking about her). The ball rolled into the middle of their standoff, forgotten by the students who were now starting to gather around them in a circle. Coach Wilson had disappeared, talking with another teacher, so the class was at a standstill. The only one who didn't pay attention was sitting on the bleachers, turning a page of the book she was engrossed in.

The older boy turned around now, raising a condescending brow. "I have no idea what you're talking about. We weren't doing anything." he might've believed him, if not for waver in his voice that signalled he was about to burst into a fit of laughter any minute. The ball teetered closer to Rory, who picked it up, spinning it on his finger for a moment. "So, why don't we spare you further mockery and—," he thrust the ball towards the boy, hitting him square in the chest with force, winding him. "Let's play the game."

Some of the students huddled around them giggled quietly at Logan's slightly prone form. He took some deep breaths, trying to control himself and not have this turn into a full blown fist fight. He just wanted him to say sorry, why couldn't he just stuff his pride down for a second and just accept that he was acting like an absolute ass. His fingers turned white as he gripped the basketball, the rough texture digging into his fingertips. He lifted his head, glare like steel, control on his rage slipping fast. He shifted the weight of the basketball into one hand, lifted the ball and—

At the sound of a echoing whack, Michelle finally looked up. In a parting in the group surrounding the basketball court, she spotted one boy on the ground, his nose gushing blood and another boy, standing above him, eyes wide, like he had just realised what he had just done. A basketball bounced once, twice, stuttering to a stop before rolling away. Whispers spread throughout the circle, gasps also. The boy on the ground shouted something unintelligible, considering the hand over his nose and mouth as his friends either went to his side or had pounced on the boy who went as white as a ghost the second he saw them charge for him. From where she was, Michelle couldn't tell if they had actually gotten to punch him as Coach Wilson ran in.

"Hey, hey, what the hell is going on here?"

Just like that, Michelle lost interest, raising her eyebrow as Wilson tried to peel them off of each other and shouting at the younger boy who still looked like he had yet to process what had just happened. Michelle huffed, returning to the page as she tried to find her line once more.

Books were far more interesting anyway.

-

At the end of the day, she had an hour to kill.

Her mom had been delayed at work, and the thought of getting the subway home did not appeal to her that day, so here she was, in the corridor of the school, sitting down with her back against the lockers. Her earphones were in as she stared down at her sketchbook, a blank sheet of paper staring right back at her. She drummed her pencil against the page, eyes now casting all around her in an attempt to find some inspiration to draw. She had to smile as she saw the many science achievements on the walls, the many murals of honoured scientists and their inventions. Her dad had always said that she was an art student stuck in a science school, and in a way, she did agree, but she did like science. She was smart, she was in there for a reason, and until she could find some kind of inspiration, she was going to be just a student in a science school was had to wait for their mom to come pick them up.

She heard the scraping of metal against the floor and turned her head in that direction. Pulling out a chair, she saw someone sit down dejectedly, head in their hands. They were kind of familiar, enough that it had Michlle tilting her head to the side slightly. Biting the inside of her lip, an idea struck her. She stood, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floors as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and making her way to the room where she realised was detention, what with the sign on the door displaying that word to the empty hallways. She peeked her head through the doorway, seeing the empty classroom. She nodded to herself, sauntering in and placing her things a few rows across from the only other student in the room. Wilson, from the computer, glanced up, but didn't even blink as she got herself situated.

By doing this, Michelle had made an irrevocable move. She had placed their parallel lines closer together, but they still had yet to converge. As she opened her sketchbook, she didn't even take notice of the boy who had peered up from his cocoon of woe and sorrow to frown at her. Detention had started ten minutes ago, why had she just shown up? He winced slightly, his new black eye stinging as he rested his chin against the back of his hands. He let out a deep sigh, the only sound in the room save for the clicking of Coach Wilson's mouse. The girl turned back to glance at him, a passive look on her face, just looking at him. No trace of emotion.

He gave her a tight lipped smile. She didn't return it, just turned back to her sketchbook and began to draw, inspiration hitting her all of a sudden. He closed his eyes, hopeful he could grab some shut eye to prepare himself for the many days he was going to waste in this class room. Why had he used his pitching hand to throw that stupid basketball?

From her spot, Michelle began to outline the shape of a boy, chin resting on his arms, a prominent black eye to be added later on.

And just like that, with one barely there interaction, two parallel lines became tangent. Never to separate again.

-

not edited

A/N: ahh, I'm back. For the first time in my life, the internet crapped out on me in my neighbourhood and I lost half a chapter. Now though, I have it finished and I can say that while it's short, I'm already loving it. Logan's a dumb dumb, but his heart's in the right place. 

I hope I still have you guys excited, I really didn't expect the love for this story. Michelle is so slept on and to know people want her to be happy makes my heart flutter!

Thanks guys, see you in the next one.

Comment, vote & follow! - Emma