“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.