Chapter One- The Fab Five

                High school is supposed to be a time of laughter, fun, and graduating. High school is about making out behind the bleachers, meeting hot guys, and  partying the nights away without a care in the world.

                That's what high school is supposed to be like. At least that's what they show in all the movies and stuff.

                But that can't be said for my life.

                I, Sara Fletcher, am anything but that high school stereotype. If anything, I'm the stereotype of the high school loser. I'm that type of girl who no one notices. I'm that girl who sits in the back of class, and instead of listening to the teacher or flirting with the jock next to me, I write poetry or a new idea to a plot in my story. Yes, I write stories.

                Loser, right?

                I'm that girl who has frizzy brown hair that is impossible to manage. I'm that girl who has those big prescription glasses because I'm afraid that if I use contacts, I'll seriously poke my eye out.

                No joke.

                I'm that girl who never wears make-up because she always manages to make it look whore-like. I'm the girl with bushy eyebrows, because she is afraid of a tweezer. I'm that girl who never gets expensive clothes because her parents can barely afford it.

                Or maybe doesn't really know what's "in" or what's "out"......

                Yes, I'm the girl who blends in, the girl who never had a boyfriend, never been asked out, and most certainly never been kissed.

                Which is why I have no idea why of all people, Justin Timberlake came up to me in lunch and talked to me.

                I mean seriously. Me? Of all people.

                ~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~

                It was a normal day; me and my friend Amanda Tannermen were eating our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, engaging in another conversation about her boyfriend, Nate. Ever since she's gone out with him, she is a sudden expert on all things relationship wise. Not to mention she keeps bragging about it.

                I mean, I don't mean to be mean, but she acts like she's "all that". What, with her small chest, her red hair, and rather big ears, she's not  drop dead gorgeous.

                But who am I to be talking?

                At least someone asked her out. Even if it was class nerd, pocket protector, poindexter, Nate.

                "Anyway...Nate and I..." she blabbered on.         

                I wasn't really paying attention, sue me. It was about the same thing everyday.  Instead, I feasted my eyes on the eye candy that sat three tables ahead of me. Even if I had no chance with any of them, it wouldn't hurt to look.

                "You're not listening, are you?" she demanded.

                "I am, I am," I said so unconvincingly, she snorted.

                "No, you're not. You're staring at the Fab Five and you know it," she stated matter-of-factly.

                I just shrugged my shoulders and continued to stare at the five who, surprisingly (not!) had a group of girls crowded around them.

                The Fab Five are the group of boys that rule are school, and are surprisingly (not!) the hottest guys in the entire district.

                How or why these hot guys joined forces is a phenomenal wonder of the world.  For God to create such strikingly handsome guys and make them all friends together is a miracle.

                What more is there to say? Five guys, all different in many ways, but yet equally amazing.

                There is Chris Kirkpatrick, though short, is hot in his own way. He has a unique style that only he could pull off. Yeah there are wannabes who walk around with dreads or his pink cowboy hat, but nobody can make it look like he can. Not to mention, he knows how to make a girl laugh, and is the funniest guy in all of the school.  He was the class clown who is constantly trying to figure out a way to pull a prank on the teachers and on the school. I remember last year he got suspended for somehow managing to put two cows, three chickens, and five pigs in the school. You can now see him around making perfect Borat impressions, it's scary.

                Then there is Joey Fatone, a.k.a. Lady Killer. He gets every girl he wants and is notorious for sleeping with the entire cheerleading squad. He's loud, Italian, and from New York, and is not afraid of confrontation. He is the proclaimed tough guy in the group, always picking fights with whomever messes with one of his bros. No one dares to pick a fight with Joey, though. When he was a freshman three years ago, a senior made a "great" joke and called him Joey Fat-One. We never saw that guy again.

                There is Lance Bass, the cutie with brains. He is president of SCA, National Honor Society, French Club, Space Club (which he created), you name it, he's president of it. Straight A's and with a GPA so high I didn't know it was possible, he is going to be our valedictorian. Don't get me wrong, this guy is no nerd. He knows how to party. He is cute in that I-will-always-be-smarter-than-you-but-who-cares-I'm-hot sort of way. Nerds all over school have a crush on him, and all of them just about faint when they hear that he is their science partner.

                Number Four of the Five is JC Chasez.  He is the self-acclaimed jock of the school. He plays every sport imaginable. He plays basketball, runs track, plays baseball, and even tennis. The thing is, while he is a pretty boy, the boy is damn good at his sports. He was on a varsity team all throughout all four years of high school. The boy is so fit...his body is so lean. And his arms, don't get me started about his arms...the boy was meant to play sports, damn thirty colleges are offering him full scholarships just for him to play with them. Serious one time this guy landed on our football field in his helicopter. Heliocopter! And you can constantly hear his cell phone go off with text messages from recruiters.I mean, God just had to make him fine too. Some guys get all the luck.

                Finally, there is HIM. The leader of the pack. He is the guy that's not known for doing anything aside from looking really good.

Justin Freakin' Timberlake.

God was having a good day when he created him. His face so strikingly handsome it makes girls heads turn whenever he passes by. He has eyes so blue, like whenever he  talks to you, he is only talking to you. His facial features seem to be carved from the gods. His smile is flawless, and people's hearts melt when they see it.  He is a 100 on a scale of 10. Good lord, the guy is so cute, people wait for him to sneeze, so they can bless him.

                "So who are you taking to prom, Sara?"Amanda  asked, when she already knew the answer.

                I decided to ignore the question, and went on to my la-la land of five guys hands all over my...

                "Give it up, Sara, you don't have a chance," she stated, taking a swig from her milk carton. "No way  are they ever gonna ask you-"

               Amanda stopped when she saw Justin Timberlake stand up from his table and saunter up to us.

                "Hey," he smiled, acting like this was so casual, and when in fact, I was just about to faint.

               Oh shit.

              I think I just pissed in my pants.

 Chapter Two-The Bet

     I swear I didn't want to do it.

     It wasn't my idea...I swear it was all Chris' fault.

      I mean how was I supposed to know that it would get this far?

      How could I have ever gotten into this deep shit?

     Well, I guess the only way to begin where all these problems emerged is to introduce myself. My name is Justin. Justin Timberlake. I'm just a normal guy who goes to St. Lamarr High School. No, I'm not smart like Lance, shit I could never even dream of taking half the classes that he takes. Sure I can catch a football, but I am no JC Chasez. I'm not strong like Joey. I can't tell jokes that are half as good as Chris'.

     So basically...I have no talent whatsoever.

     Well...I guess I do have one. But if any one of the guys were to find out, they would rip my ass apart and eat me alive.

     So what do I like to do?

     Well...I like to sing. And I like to write songs.

     I know, I know. Pathetic, right? Imagine me, Justin Timberlake, singing in front of the school like those chorus nerds...if the guys ever found out...they wouldn't want out with me and then I would be left eating my lunch with a bunch of band geeks.

     And life as I know it will end, and I will be a certified loser for life.

     But no one will ever...ever know that.

     So...back to me. I'm a hot guy and I know it. I know I have basically every girl in this school around my finger.

     I know it may sound cocky, but is it really cocky if you know that it's true?

     And that's the exact same statement that got me into all this shit.

     But keep this in mind...it was all Chris' idea.

     I swear.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~

     So it was your average Monday morning. JC was bragging about his football game last Friday, Lance was frantically trying to finish his AP Calculus homework (which wasn't due 'till Thursday...sometimes I wonder why we hang around him), Joey was hitting on a bunch of cheerleaders, and Chris was making even more Borat impressions.

     "So anyway, I thought it was all over. Over. Kaput. Done. But then...I saw the perfect opportunity. I dodged and I passed, and I sprinted 'til I swore I felt my heart stop and before I knew it--" JC stood up, put his hands in the air and waved, "TOUCHDOWN BABY YEAH!"

     The crowd around us all clapped and JC sat back in his seat with a smug look on his face.

     "It was nothing really, it's all for the school," JC said, attempting to sound modest, but we all know that he is anything but modest. He puffed his chest out, proudly displaying the number 17 on his jersey.

     Chris looked at JC and patted his back. "I saw it myself and it was NICE."

     I rolled my eyes, quietly thinking to myself, "If I hear one more Borat impression I swear I'm gonna rip that stupid pink hat off Chris' head and burn it in the next bonfire. "

     But apparently I'm the only one who thought that, and I didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want to be a party pooper. Joey smirked, as if it was the first time he heard Chris say this impression, but soon his attention was grabbed by a tiny brunette in a short skirt.

     "DAY-UM! Look at that girl's ass! Now that's what I call a bebegonwallow!" he drooled.

1) a phrase created by Mr. Joey Fatone after a drunken night at a party.

2) An ass that is plump and juicy

3) an ass that one wants to tap.

     Like I said, a typical Monday morning.

     Chris playfully smacked Joey's shoulder. "Man...you would never believe it, but I tapped that ass on Saturday."

     Joey, obviously stunned, opened his mouth in amazement. "No way man!"

     Chris shook his head cockily. "Yeah, you got that right. Remember that party we went to on Saturday? Well let's just say that bebegonwallow had a little to much to drink."

     "'Atta boy!" Joey grinned, high-fiving Chris.

     I looked at Chris dubiously. "You actually fucked her? Do you even know her name?"

     Chris shrugged. "Who cares? Why Justy Poo? Jealous much?"

      I laughed. "Jealous? Of you? You got to be kidding me. What's there to be jealous of?"

     "The fact that I know you haven't gotten laid in like a century," Chris mocked, and then looking over, quickly exclaimed, "Quick J! Duck!"

     I glanced over and saw Blair, and immediately followed Chris' order, glad that I dodged her.

     Blair was the essential bitch of my school. Her father earns a big banking firm, and she was spoiled and rich. She made those girls on Super Sweet Sixteen look poor. She also happened to be my ex-girlfriend. We broke up three months ago, but she just couldn't get over me. She always tries to start stuff, and I intentionally avoid her, I don't like confrontation. Don't let her petite stature fool you. Behind those catlike green eyes lies a total bitch who could rip you apart with words. She was obsessive, and compulsive, and after two months of dating her, I finally said sayonara to her skinny ass.

     And let me tell you, breaking up with her was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

     Well, not the breaking up part, that was relatively easy, it's aftermath that caused the most trouble.

     She would start rumors about my new girlfriends, she would try to intimidate my new girlfriends, she would basically tried to kill any of my girlfriends with her short, perfectly manicured hands. I couldn't walk around school for a month without her angerly shouting out, "Dick!" or "Cockface!"

     Yes, if you looked under the word "bitch" in the dictionary, you would see Blair van der Woodley's picture.

     So after scanning the crowd, and unsuccessfully finding me, Blair stomped out of the cafeteria.

     "Coast is clear, J," JC whispered.

      I slowly rose to my seat. "Thanks Chris."

     He waved his hand. "No problem, J. But where were we?"

     I groaned. I should've known. Chris Kirkpatrick can never let a subject rest. "Look Chris, all I'm saying is, I can get any girl in the school to sleep with me."

     Chris looked at me for a minute, and a grin slowly made his way across his face. "Really? Then I want you to prove it."

     "How?"

     "Well Mr. Timberlake. I have a proposition for you. You say you can get any chick in this school? Well, if you can get a girl in bed in a month, than I'll be your slave for a year. That's right. Chris Kirkpatrick will do whatever you tell him to do. Laundry? I'll be there. Homework? I'll do it."

      "And if I lose?" I inquired.

     "Then I guess you'll be wiping my ass for the rest of the year," he smirked.

     I thought about it. It seemed reasonable, this wasn't going to be hard, it almost sounded too easy. "What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously.

     "Well, not just any girl...you have to with her," Chris said, pointing to a girl at a different table.

     "With her?" I asked, scrunching my nose.

     This was not my type at all. Frizzy brown hair? Braces? Glasses? I felt my body shudder.

     "Yes, with her. You didn't think I was just going to pick the sluttiest blonde in school? Wait. You already dated her. I mean, the second sluttiest girl in school. This is supposed to be a  challenge. Why, you chicken J?"

     I shook my head, this way going to be harder than I thought, but I could do it because I am Justin Timberlake, and I don't know one heart who I couldn't melt. Yes, I had my work cut out for me, because this girl was not my type. But I was up for a little challenge.

     "Prepare to be kissing my ass, Kirkpatrick."

     Have you ever stared into eyes so beautiful and deep that it made you think that the whole world around you had dissolved?

     Well, Justin Timberlake didn't have those eyes. He didn't make the whole world dissolve, he made the whole fucking universe dissolve.

     When he came up to us, I can't really say who was more surprised, me or Amanda. I have to say it was pretty priceless watching her jaw drop to the ground, because not only was I talking to a boy (which was already pretty shocking as it was), I was talking to Justin Timberlake.      Well, I have to admit, I was just as shocked. What was Justin doing talking to a girl like me? I mean, did I die and go to heaven? Was this another dream? Isn't this the same guy who dated Blair van der Woodley, the prettiest, coolest senior in school? And he's talking to me? Sara Fletcher, certified loser?

     It was very perplexing indeed.

     But yet, he was there, sitting at our table. He reached out his hand, and shook my hand.

     Oh my god...he touched me.

     "Hey there. I don't think we've met, I'm Justin," he grinned, showing a full set of his flawless teeth.

     No shit. Everybody knows who you are. I smiled hugely, I was cheesing mad hard. I probably looked like I was on some drugs or something, but I just couldn't wipe my smile off my face.

     "And I'm...I'm..." Shit. What was my name again? Funny how easily you could forget certain facts like your name when talking to a hot guy. "Sara." I finally stuttered.

     "Nice to meet you. It's funny how I've never seen you around here before. Are you new?" he asked, cocking his adorable little head to the side.

     "Actually...I sit behind you in Physics," I pointed out.

     He frowned, and his forehead wrinkled in cute little lines.

     Did I say something wrong?

     "Oh...well.." he hesitated for a moment as if he were in deep thought, "Well...it is kinda hard to see someone who sits behind you," he chuckled.

     Too bad I sat in front of you last year. I didn't care to point that out to him, I was just happy he was talking to me.

     I smiled and nodded my head, "I guess you're right."

     "So...anyway...I was wondering," he looked at me sheepishly, as if he were embarrassed at what he was going to say next, "What are you doing after school on Friday?"

     He cast his eyes on the floor, and he was blushing a little.

     Aw...how sweet, and everyone says he's so cocky.

     I slowly felt a blush creep along my face, but I didn't want to sound to desperate (even though I really was), and make it sound like I had no life whatsoever (even though I really didn't), so I pretended to have to think about it. "Well...I was going to go to a party..."

     Amanda snorted, and I kicked her underneath the table. She looked pissed and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but after seeing my warning look, she quickly closed it.

     I smiled. "But I guess... in your case, I think I'll just have to miss it."

     Ohhh. I sounded flirty.

     He smiled. "Great! I guess I'll meet you I'll pick you up at eight!"

     He got up, and walked back to The Fab Five table, but before he reached his seat, he turned around and gave me one more big smile.

     I sank in my chair and sighed. I think I'm in love.

~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~

     I sank in my chair and sighed. I think I'm gonna be sick.

     What the fuck were you thinking, Timberlake?

     Well, I guess that's the problem. I wasn't thinking.

     I mean, she's a nice girl, don't get me wrong. She has nice...um...well...she chose nice colors for her braces.

     And that's exactly my point. I am not attracted to her at all. First of all...her clothes? I mean, no homo, but that girl could use a serious make-over. I mean what girl wears baggy sweaters with cats on them? It's like she pulled it out of my grandma's wardrobe.

     I mean, I don't think she would be that bad if she took care of herself a little more. I mean if she straightened her hair, highlighted her hair, plucked her eyebrows, wore contacts, took the braces off, and wore better clothes than she would be perfect.

     Is that too much for a guy to ask? For a girl to look nice?

     I must've been deep in thought, because I felt Joey elbow me. "Hah! Look guys! It's like Justin is thinkin' harder than Lance."

     "Like that's possible," JC snorted.

     I playfully punched JC in the shoulder. "That's not what yo momma said last night."

     He playfully punched me back. "Dude...that didn't even make sense.

     I shrugged my shoulders. "Yo momma don't make sense."

     Chris shook his head. "There goes Justin tryin to be a wigger again."

    I punched Chris, but it wasn't playfully.

     "Aw shit! That really fucking hurt," he whined.

     "Ah get over it," I snapped.

     Chris pouted. "You better be nice to me, Timberlake. Because when I win the bet, I'm gonna break hell on your stanky ass."

     I laughed. "Yeah right. I'm gonna win this one, Chris. Did you see the way she was looking at me?"

     Chris snorted. "You're so full of yourself, Timberlake. Yes, I saw it, but I also happened to overhear how she was in your physics class this whole year."

     "Well, I fixed it didn't I? And she's meeting me on Friday isn't she?" I retorted.

     "Yeah, well, once she sees how you truly act, Timberlake, she'll get over your looks just like that," Chris pointed out.

     "And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked, anger rising in my body.

    "Chill dude. All I'm saying is, you ain't funny. You ain't athletic. You ain't smart. You can't even catch a damn football. Luckily god blessed you with pretty boy looks. Girls like her don't go for just appearance.I mean They actually want a guy with personality." Chris scrunched his face in disgust. "I mean aside from your looks, what else do you have to offer?"

     "A lot," I snarled.

     He grinned. "Like what?"

     Well, part of me did agree with him. I mean...I really didn't. But I didn't want to accept it, so I didn't.

     "What the fuck ever Chris, go suck a dick." I said, stomping away from our lunch table.

     Oh I'll prove Chris wrong, and I'll prove everybody in this school wrong. If they honestly think that Justin Timberlake is just another pretty face, well, then they are gonna be eating their words.

     I didn't know how I was going to prove it, but I knew I was going to.

     If there was one thing I did have, it was determination. And I was damn determined.

     “No, no, no, no!” I shrieked, throwing my whole wardrobe onto the bed.. “None of these will do!”

     “Dude, you seriously need to chill,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. She was sitting on my bed, reading Teen Vogue, trying to figure out what new haircut she should get. “Do you think I would look good with bangs?” she asked, trying to imagine what it would look like while gazing in the mirror.

     “Amanda, focus! Justin Freakin’ Timberlake is going to be here in an hour an a half, and I have absolutely, positively nothing to wear!” I wailed in utter frustration.

     She put her magazine on the floor, and crossed her arms. “Okay, first of all, you need to stop calling him Justin Freakin’ Timberlake. I mean all I’ve been hearing since Monday is Justin Freakin’ Timberlake this and Justin Freakin’ Timberlake that, and I highly doubt that he will appreciate using Freakin' before his first and last name."

     I looked at her dubiously for a moment, before shoveling back through my clothes. “All’s I’m saying is that guys like Justin Frea-”

     She glared at me, but I caught myself. “All’s I’m saying is that guys like Justin, don’t ask girls like me out.”

     “Girls like you?” She questioned, looking at me curiously.

     “Yeah, girls like me. Have you seen his ex-girlfriend, Blair?” I asked, trying on a pink top which I soon threw on the floor with disgust.

     “Who hasn’t heard of Blair?” she pointed out with a slight tone of annoyance.

     “My point exactly. She is like…the perfect specimen,” I said seriously.

     Amanda snorted. “Specimen? God, Sara.”

     “No Amanda, I’m serious. She’s freaking rich, captain of the cheerleading team, and she’s blonde,” I explained.

     “Oh God! She’s blonde? How can you ever compete?” she said sarcastically.

     “I’m just saying if girls like her can’t keep a guy like Justin, what are the chances that he’ll keep me around?” I sighed, plopping on the bed with despair.

     Before I knew, I felt her slap me straight across my face.

     “Ow! What was that for?” I whined, rubbing the red spot she put on my face.

     “I need you to snap out of it! God! You were looking so pathetic, and I’m about tired of it. Alright let’s face it, nobody knows why Justin asked you out-” I shot her an angry glance but she continued, “-but who fucking cares? He asked you out and that’s all that matters, and now’s the time to show the whole school that you don’t have to blonde or rich to have a hot boyfriend.”

     “Yeah that’s nice and all, but that still doesn’t help me pick out an outfit,” I pouted.

     Amanda sighed. “Wear those tight jeans and that red top you have. You have a nice ass and you need to show it off,” she dictated.

     I gasped, “Did you just say I had a nice ass?”

     Amanda shrugged. “Just statin’ the truth. Besides, you need to show off all of your assets, and I heard Justin is a butt guy.”

     I giggled self-consciously and put on the jeans and the shirt.

     Well, they did make my ass look nice.

     “Now…” Amanda said, searching through her purse, all you need is a little makeup and you’ll be set.”

     I put my arms up in protest. “Nah uh honey. I don’t do makeup.”

     “Well, if you want to keep Justin you need to look your best.” she said matter-of-factly.

     I hesitated, but she was right. If I wanted to keep Justin interested, I need to look just as good as Blair. Okay…at least somewhat as good as Blair.

     “Okay, I’ll do it.” I agreed.

     “Good,” she said, taking out the mascara wand.

     As she inched closer to my face, I gulped. Oh god what did I get myself into?

     “Don’t worry Sara. I’ll make you look so hot. This is going to be for all the girls that think they have no chance with a guy like Justin. This is for all the girls who aren’t blonde and who aren’t cheerleaders. This-” she grinned, looking at my reflection. “This one’s for the nerds.”

~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~

     Nothing like some Marvin Gaye to get you in the mood. Every time I get ready for a date, I just have to blast some “Sexual Healing”. It makes me feel all…manly or something.

And baby, I can't hold it much longer
It's getting stronger and stronger

     I took a full three hours to get ready for this date. One to take a shower , another to pick out an outfit, and the last trying to convince myself that I’m the shit, despite the fact that I’m going out with a loser.

     I look in the mirror, and I can’t help but feel a little smug about my looks. How can anybody resist me?

And when I get that feeling
I want Sexual Healing

     “Man…I brought sexy back,” I smirked, running my hands through my hair. Sounds like a good idea for a song.

     “I’m bringing sexy back.” I wrote in my little black book. As nerdy as it sounds, I always keep a little song book by my bed. Sometimes I just come up with some lyrics out of nowhere. Nobody knows this, though. The guys  just assume that its just a book where I keep all my numbers, because if they ever did find out that I wrote songs...then they would think I'm a freak.

     This baby blue polo that I have on gives my blue eyes an extra twinkle, if I say so myself. I have on just regular blue jeans, and some fresh white Nikes.

     I look freakin’ sweet.

     “Hey Sara, how are you?” I said cockily, practicing what I was going to say when I arrived at the door. I shook my head. Cocky wouldn’t work on a girl like her.

    And my emotional stability is leaving me
There is something I can do

      “Yo, girl, you look hella hot tonight,” I said flashing a grin. No. That definitely wouldn’t do.

     I can get on the telephone and call you up baby, and
Honey I know you'll be there to relieve me

     “Hey…you look nice tonight,” I said sheepishly, flashing a shy, kind smile.

Bingo.

The love you give to me will free me

     That’s it. The shy guy act. Pretending I’m a nice guy that never does anything wrong. Add some roses and chocolate and I’m in.

If you don't know the things you're dealing
I can tell you, darling, that it's Sexual Healing

     Oh yes, her heart will melt, especially when she finds out that we’re having dinner in Le Bergerie, the most romantic, expensive, exclusive restaurant in the whole city.

Get up, Get up, Get up, Get up, let's make love tonight
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up, Wake up, 'cos you do it right

     I picked up the remote to my stereo, and switched it off.

     I grabbed my keys off the counter, took one last look in the mirror, and headed for the front door.

     Loser or not, I was going to get some 'sexual healing' tonight.

Chapter Five-La Bergerwhat?

     I heard the doorbell ring, and I literally jumped.

     “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! He’s here!” I yelped, running around my room like a chicken with its head cut off.

     “Do you want me to slap you?“ Amanda asked, and I shook my head no. “Take a deep breath in and out, Sara. This date is going to be great, don‘t worry so much.” Amanda advised, grabbing me by the shoulders.

     I took a deep breath and I checked my reflection again, my eyes searching anxiously for any flaws in my appearance. “Do I look okay?”

     “No you don’t look fine. You look bangin’!” Amanda reassured me.

     “Okay.. Thanks so much Amanda,” I said, grabbing my purse from my dresser.

     “No probs Sara. Now remember don’t stay out too late, don’t do any drugs, and don’t forget to use protection,“ Amanda said playfully.

     “Er…I’ll be sure to do that,” I said laughing, racing to the front door.

     I tumbled down the stairs and opened the door, anxiety building up inside. I felt like I was going to throw-up.

     As soon as I opened the door, I was literally speechless. He looked so…hot. He was so unimaginably attractive I thought I was going to faint. His eyes were so blue, the ocean couldn’t even compare. It looked like he put no time or thought into this outfit, like he just put on whatever he happened to see. But yet he looked so…delicious.

     He also smelled good. Not the same cheesy Axe or Tag lotion that he other guys wear, but like, a natural scent of earth and wood and…good smellingness.

     I am speechless.

~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~

     I am speechless.

     I don’t want to admit that Sara looks good, but I can’t help but think it.

     I mean, I’ve seen prettier, way prettier, girls with better clothes. I mean all she’s wearing is a red top and jeans. Nothing extraordinary. But yet…she looks so down to earth. She doesn’t seem as high-maintenance as those other girls at school. It looks like she just threw on some clothes, not even going all out on a date with me, which is pretty weird. I mean, usually when I ask a girl on a date, they take hours preparing what they’re going to wear, and they usually have a short skirt and a low cut tank top, like they have no respect for themselves…but Sara…

     Wait.

     I’m not supposed to be thinking this. I’m not supposed to like her because she’s not cool. She’s a loser. A nerd. She’s not blonde. Or a cheerleader. And she has braces for Christ’s sake. I’m not supposed to be digging on a girl who looks like that. Especially when I look so extraordinarily hot.

     I suddenly remembered where I was and what I was doing, so I looked down into her big brown eyes. Wow she has the sweetest brown eyes I have ever seen…woah snap out of it, Timberlake.

     “Hey…you look nice tonight,” I said, sheepishly, and to my surprise, meaning every word of it.

     She beamed. “You really think so?”

     I nodded my head vigorously, “Yeah.”

     We stood there for awhile in silence, but it didn’t feel awkward or anything. It was like we were observing each other, taking in every detail and movement we made.

     “Well…uh…I guess we should be going, huh?” I asked after a few seconds.

     I grabbed her hand, and I felt her tense up. Aw…it’s like I’m the first person that ever held her hand. I couldn’t help but chuckle in the inside; it was so sweet. I actually liked the fact that I made her nervous, for some reason.

     We climbed into my blue mustang, and my radio turned on as soon as I started the car, and to my horror, Michael Jackson’s P.Y.T. came on.

     I turned it off quickly, embarrassed. “Uh..sorry for that.”

     Shit. She’s gonna think I’m some weirdo nerd who’s trap in the 80’s, when I should be listening to Linken Park or whatever the popular kids listen to.

     She laughed, pushing my hand away from the radio dial. “Wait…I love that song.”

     I looked at her, bemused. “You like Michael Jackson?”

     “Like him? God I love him!” She replied, her brown eyes twinkling, like they were dancing to the song, “Well…his music at least.”

     “Really? That’s pretty cool. Whenever I tell somebody I like Michael Jackson, they’re like “Ew.” But they just make assumption that he's a freak, so his music must suck.  They just don’t know how great his music was,” I acknowledged.

     “I know. The 80’s were like the best era of music. The artists like Bow wow wow or whatever don’t come close,” Sara said, bobbing her head to the music.

     “You telling me,” I agreed, turning the radio up.

     “I want to love you! P.Y.T! Pretty Young thing! You need some lovin! T.L.C! Tender lovin’ care! And I’ll take you there!” we both sang at the top of our lungs.

     I opened the windows and we started to sing even louder. The other drivers were honking at us, probably thinking we were some stupid teenagers, but you know what? I could care less. For once, I didn’t care about my image, and it felt pretty damn good.

     It was nice hanging around with a girl I could act goofy with. You know, hanging around with someone who wouldn’t judge me. I was actually having a killer time…

     Oh, god. Snap out of it Timberlake. This isn’t supposed to happen. Remember Timberlake, this is strictly business. Just a stupid bet that you need to win to prove Chris that he is a certified asshole.

     But I couldn’t help but enjoy myself.

     As the song came to a close, we collapsed into laughter.

     “So where are we going ?” she asked, after her laughter had subsided.

     “Oh you’re going to love it. We’re going to La Bergerie,” I said, smiling.

     She looked confused. “La Bergerwhat?”

     “La Bergerie…you know…that French Restaurant on Fifth Street,” I added, hoping it would ring a bell.

     Sara looked at me blankly. “Nope…never heard of it.”

     “Really?” I asked, with a hint of surprise.

     She shook her head. “Nope.”

     La Bergerie is one of those restaurants where every girl wants their boyfriend to take them. It’s an exclusive restaurant and it’s harder to get into than any other restaurant in town. I was so taken aback that she had never heard of it. I mean Blair practically begged me to take her every time we went out.

     “Well…you’ll like it. I promise. It has the best French food in the whole state,” I reassured her, as I pulled into a small parking lot.

     Le Bergerie, to say the least, was beautiful. Lights adorned the outside, vines were creeping up the wall, and roses were sprinkled on the floor. Sara stared at it in awe, and who could blame her? If I were her, I would’ve totally pissed my pants.

     We walked hand in hand (and to my delight it seemed to make her blush again) as we sauntered up to the hostess scantily dressed in all black.

     “Timberlake, reservation for two,” I said to the hostess, trying to sound all fancy and stuff.

     Sara, meanwhile, seemed to be taking in every meticulous detail of the place. It’s like she couldn’t believe she was in a restaurant this beautiful, or maybe it was the fact she couldn’t believe she was here with me.

     The hostess led us through the dim restaurant lighted only by candles, to a table overlooking a beautiful rose garden below.

     “It’s gorgeous,” she gasped.

     “I know,” I grinned cockily.

     We picked up the menu and she squinted her eyes. She obviously didn’t know how to speak French, which makes it kinda hard for her since the whole menu was written in French.

     “So..what’s good here?” she asked, unsure of what to get.

     “I’ll order for you, don’t worry,” I reassured her.

     “Okay..but nothing to expensive,” she warned.

     “Honey, no amount of money is too much for you,” I replied, making her blush.

     The waiter came and I gave him our order. “Peux j'avoir deux Escargots au Beurre, Tomate, Ail, Persil et Noisette s'il vous plaît et une bouteille de vin rouge.”

     The waiter walked away and Sara looked at me in awe. “I didn’t know you could speak French.”

     I chuckled. “It’s one of my hidden talents I guess.”

      Well, not really. I kinda just remembered word for word what I was going to order, because chicks always dig a guy who speaks another language. A little white lie will never hurt anybody.

     “Well that’s cool. It’s kinda sad, though. I’ve taken five years of French, but yet, I had no idea what you just said.” she said, shaking her head.

     “Well, don’t worry, it’s gonna be delicious,” I comforted her, reaching my hand onto her thigh.

     A blush crept across her face, and she slapped my hand.

     I looked at her a little perplexed, and decided to shake it off. Who says no to Justin Timberlake?

     Before I could even approach the subject, the waiter came and brought us our food. Damn this service is good.

     She scrunched her nose as she looked at what was on the place. “What is this?”

     “Escargot,” I replied.

     She looked at me blankly and I added, “Snails.”

     She scrunched her nose again, but she refrained from saying anything. She was trying to be polite, I could tell. She was playing with her food, obviously, pushing it back and forth across her plate.

     I furrowed my brow. This wasn’t going exactly how I planned. She was supposed to like this food. She was supposed to be raving about how awesome this food was, how she was so happy I brought her here.

     “Hey…is everything okay?” I asked, gesturing to her uneaten plate.

     “Well…it’s just…” she sighed. “I’ve never really eaten any snails before..and well…”

     I stopped her, “Hey it’s okay if you don’t like it. What was I thinking? I should’ve asked you what you wanted to eat instead of assuming you liked snails. What was I thinking?”

     She giggled. “Don’t get me wrong, this place is beautiful. I just..don’t find snails that…er…appetizing. I’m more of a hamburger and French fry kind of girl.”

     Wow this was unexpected. I never knew a girl who admitted they liked to eat hamburgers. Most other girls, especially Blair, hated to eat anything fattening. Or…they just hated eating all together.

     I thought for a moment, before grabbing her hand and heading for the door.. “Let’s roll out. I know this great diner down the street, and they serve the biggest baddest burgers ever.”

     Her eyes brightened, and she grabbed her purse. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get outta here!"

~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~

      But this delicious, juicy burger is making me feel less and less guilty with every bite.

     Justin was right. This definitely was the best burger joint ever. And that’s a compliment coming from a girl like me.

     “So how do you like this place?” Justin asked, watching me anxiously for my response. It’s weird; it’s like this whole entire night he’s been trying so hard to make everything perfect…which I guess was kinda cute. But kinda weird in a perfectionist type of way. Like…he just needs to relax. I was supposed to be the nervous one, not him.

     “Like it? I love it!” I responded, taking a big bite of my burger as proof.

     “Perfect.” he said, smiling his flawless white smile.

     “So tell me a little about yourself, Sara, what do you like to do?” Justin said, watching me intently.

     “Well…” I thought for a moment. Shit. I don’t know… I don’t do anything interesting.

     “I like to write. Call it nerdy, but I like to write stories and stuff like that.” I said, blushing at the nerdy response. I guess it was better than nothing.

     He grinned and his eyes lit up. “That’s not nerdy at all. I actually-” he stopped, as if he realized he was going to say something wrong.

     I cocked my head to the side. “What?”

     He shook his head. “Ah nothing.”

     I usually am the type of person that likes to pry, but tonight I’ll make an exception. He just looks so embarrassed but cute, and I don’t want him to think I’m some overly obsessed girl who wants to know every secret about his life. I like my privacy, too.

     “So…” he said, clearly trying to start another conversation. “Who was your last boyfriend?”

     Oh crap.

     I don’t want him to think I’m a loser by not having a boyfriend. I mean what girl at 17 has never had a boyfriend? He’s gonna think I’m a freak of nature. Oh god what to do…what to do?

     I avoided his glance and quickly grabbed the desert menu.

     “Hey! You know what we should do? We should order sundaes. Like I order one flavor and you order another and then we can switch when we’re half-way done,” I suggested nervously, hoping to God he will forget what we were talking about.

     Luckily, his mouth curled into a smile. “Sounds great. You know I’ve never met a girl who has such a healthy appetite.”

     Oh god. He thinks I’m a pig.

     I must’ve been frowning or something because he quickly corrected himself. “I mean…not like you’re fat or anything. Like…the girls at our school are so skinny and don’t seem to even know what food is.”

     I giggled. “That’s true. All the girls at our school wear size 00 I bet.”

     “They make jeans in 00?” he asked, amazed.

     I nodded my head. “Yup.”

     “Damn. It’s like they don’t even exist. 00? What the hell?” he shook his head.

     Our humongous sundaes arrived before our faces, complete with sprinkles, whip cream, and a cherry on the top,

     “Damn these are huge,” I muttered, amazed that a human being could actually eat this colossal treat of sugar and milk.

     “You telling me,” Justin smirked. “So you never told me about your ex.”

      I groaned. “I was hoping you would forget about that topic.”

     “I kinda figured that when you all of a sudden grabbed the menu and insisted we get ice cream.” he grinned.

     “Insisted? You make it sound like I made you get ice-cream. But you know what would be good..some..uh fries” I said, grabbing another menu.

     He wagged his long finger. “Nah uh. Don’t go changing the subject again. What’s wrong? Was your ex a jerk or something?”

     I shook my head, and I could already feel my face turn crimson. “No…not exactly.”

     He stared at me , waiting for me to go on.

     “Well…” I started. “It’s just that…I never…well…I never had a boyfriend.” I blurted out.

     His mouth dropped. “Really? No way!”

     I suddenly felt defensive for some reason. He has no right to judge me like everybody else. “Well..I mean some people don’t have it easy. I mean it’s not like I’m a part of the fab fiv-” I stopped, realizing what I was saying.

     He chuckled. “Did you just say the Fab Five? What the hell is that?”

     I bet I was as red as that ketchup bottle sitting on our table. “Well…it’s just a silly nickname me an my friend made up for you and your friends.”

     “My friends?” he asked, his eyebrows raising.

     “Yeah you know. Joey, Chris, JC, and Lance.” I replied earnestly.

     “Uh huh. And how did we earn this nickname?” he asked.

      “Well I don’t know. It just sort of happened. Like all of you guys are like are like fabulous in your own special way..” I was blabbering now, I didn’t know what the heck I was saying. “You know..Chris is the class clown, Joey is the self-proclaimed bully, Lance is the smart one, and JC is the athletic one.”

     “And me?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

     “Well…you’re the cute one,” I stated quickly. “Hey let’s switch sundaes.”

     We switched sundaes, but Justin looked a little angry and frustrated. “The cute one? That’s it?”

“Well..yeah.” Did I say something wrong?

     He sighed. “That’s all I’ll ever be known as. The cute one.”

     “What?” I asked, wondering why he looked so down after I complimented him.

     He shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

     We sat there in awkward silence, before Justin got out of the seat.

     “We should get goin’, huh?”

     I looked at my watch. Damn it was getting late. “Yeah.”

     We drove home, listening to Michael Jackson and Prince, singing again on the top of our lungs, until my house came into view.

~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~

      I pulled into her driveway and walked her to her house. We walked hand-in-hand again until we reached her porch.

     “Thanks for the best night ever,” she said earnestly.

     “No, thank you.” I smiled, looking into her eyes.

     We stood there in silence, and it was time.

     I leaned in, and attempted to kiss her but the strangest thing happened.

     She turned away, and all I got was a patch of brown hair.

     I looked at her confused.

     Who says no to Timberlake?

     She looked a little embarrassed, but said, “Sorry, I was taught not to kiss on first dates."

     I was dumbfounded.

     Who says no to Timberlake?

     But I had couldn’t scare her off. I had to respect her wishes. I’ll get her later.

     “Okay, but can I have at least have a hug?” I pouted.

     “Of course.” she smiled.

     I hugged her, and she whispered in my ear. “You know, Justin, I would kill to be the pretty one in a group.”

     I was taken aback, but in a good way. As cheesy as it sounds, it made me feel all warm and fuzzy in the inside.

    I looked at her in her eyes and smiled. “But you are the pretty one to me Sara. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”

     And the scary thing is, is that I meant every single word.