Huntington High School, at maximum capacity, contained only two thousand one hundred and twenty nine students. This was why Lottie Phelps was so entirely confused by the recent turn of events. Not by the events themselves, she knew that high-school students, boys especially, were not the most mature of the human species, but by the boys’ obvious assumption that she wouldn’t find out about them. Huntington was not exactly Manhattan.

One Jacob McDougal, the resident Star Quarterback, Homecoming Prince and all around School God had entered into an agreement with one James Whitehouse, the Smoker, Drinker, and Bad Boy of Huntington. Girls loved them both. Guys envied them both. But however similar their positions might be in the high school hierarchy, their bet had come as a huge shock to the general populace.

Jake and James were not on speaking terms. This fact however, did not imply that they hated or even disliked each other. To the students’ collective knowledge, which was extensive, Jake and James had never actually spoken a word, hateful or otherwise, to each other ever. Jake was a jock, and James chain-smoked. Their favorite activities tended to place them at different areas of the high school campus.

Thus, the high school had quickly deduced that their only point of contact was the school parking lot. Maybe, the campus speculated eagerly, Jake had hit James with his car in the parking lot (James’ favorite spot for last minute nicotine). Or perhaps James stubbed his cigarette on the hood of Jake’s Hummer (Jake’s pride and joy). Regardless of the reason, the two Alpha males had been ready and willing to fight in the woods behind Huntington High School at eight thirty Monday morning.

According to Safety Monitor Stanley, who, for his own safety, had hidden behind a tree when he had seen them arriving, Jake and James were more interested in alleviating their boredom then in exchanging black eyes. It was a Monday, after all. Plus, Jake had a game that Friday, and Coach Wasson was not known for his tolerance. Jake and James had argued, bargained, and finally shaken hands on a bet at this point witnessed by the entire hidden Safety Monitor Squad, all summoned to the woods by a text-messaging Stanley.

Lottie, unlike the rest of the school was not at all happy with the proceedings. The school library, normally her sanctuary, had been taken over by the most idiotic creatures to ever grace Huntington. Considering Lottie’s Uncle Leroy, who believed that ducks were minions of the devil, this was saying a lot.

There was whispering. And pointing. Lottie was not amused.

“Stop sulking, Lot,” Marie whispered loudly, poking Lottie in the side. “Don’t you find it even a little flattering?”

Flattering would have been being selected as “Most Intelligent” for the yearbook. Being selected as the object of a bet, like one of the insipid heroines in fluffy teenage movies, was not flattering in the least. Lottie had seen those movies. According to their portrayal of her character, she apparently had bad hair, a sweet personality, and the inability to seriously question the motives of the Jock attempting to woo her. She was tempted to let out a flattered scream of frustration.

“Just tell me when he gets here,” Lottie grumbled. “I don’t want to have to stick around forever.” Lottie, being fairly practical, had decided that the only way to return to her desired solitude would be to simply explain her knowledge of the bet to School God. He would be embarrassed, maybe even a bit apologetic, and she could go back to her reading. A plan, she thought impatiently, which could only be realized when School God actually made an appearance. Bad Boy probably didn’t even know where the library was. Ah, just a few seconds late, Lottie noted as Jake strode into the room.

If Jake had done his homework, or in his usual fashion, hired someone to do it for him, he would know that Lottie spent two hours every day after school studying. She had calculated that Jake would wait until he had showered and changed after football practice before making his move. On this point, however, she had been proven wrong.

Jake MacDougal was an absolutely gorgeous boy. He possessed tousled black hair, piercing sky blue eyes, and a mouth girls had been admiring since middle school. Lottie could admit this. With the helpful addition of contacts, her eyesight was perfect.

Today, evidently, he simply couldn’t be bothered with such trivialities as hygiene. Jake was striding toward her table in a sweat-soaked Huntington Spirit shirt and athletic shorts. He didn’t just glisten with perspiration; he shined like a muddy beacon. A beacon that also smelled. Lottie’s nose was sensitive. Her eyes dropped to his dirt-encrusted, grass-stained sneakers. They were headed towards her table, and her lovely, clean practice problems. Oh well. He’d say what he had to say, she’d politely tell him no and-

A hand had slammed Lottie’s notebook shut. A hand that was, like Jake’s shoes, covered in dirt and grime. Paralyzed with shock, Lottie watched the smear of mud drip into her carefully organized notes. It was like watching a kitten die. The vile instrument waved in front of her face.

“Hello, hey? Don’t worry, I have that effect on a lot of girls.” Jake laughed, in an easy, self-deprecating manner. Lottie simply stared. This was not going according to plan at all.

“Excuse me?” she softly suggested to him.

“What are you excusing yourself for, babe, you just got here. Oh, the glasses. They look cute on you.” Jake’s eyes sparkled as he grinned. He nonchalantly grabbed a chair from the next table, and sat across from her. Lottie glanced to the side. Marie’s lips were pursed with annoyance.

Lottie’s mood was not improving. School God had just insulted her notes, her library, her best friend, and her glasses. Lottie didn’t even usually wear glasses. Today she had been late for school, and contacts had simply been too much trouble. And as the Bet Object, she was not at all pleased with his confidence in her succumbing to his charms. He smelled like old sweat socks, for Gods sake. Jake could have at least bothered to take a shower.

Lottie was coming to the conclusion that he perceived her as a Sure Thing, and not a particularly intelligent one at that. The School God, Mr. Dirty Hands, continued to chatter.

“So, I noticed you, sitting here all alone,” Jake flashed a wink at Marie, who looked murderous, “and thought hey! Such a pretty girl needs some company.”

Lottie was beginning to think her initial plan was a tad naïve. Jake was obviously not interested in her responses to his- Lottie inwardly winced -flirtations. She doubted she could even get a word in edgewise. Although she was thinking of a certain two-word phrase she would love to interject. She did need to think of something. Marie was a black belt.

“Jake?” Lottie broke in, after considering her options. Actually, she had simply fantasized briefly about her notebook coming to life and eating him, but she was awful at reanimation. And she liked her notebook. She didn’t want it to get indigestion.

“Yeah?” Jake replied softly, reaching out to take her hand. He had spread himself onto the entire surface of the library table. Marie, who’d had to remove her math book for its own protection, looked ready for castration. She’d learned how in a book Lot tie lent her on the ancient Egyptians. Who said history wasn’t interesting?

“Sorry, but I really need to go meet a friend. Meeting you was pleasant, but Tommy’s waiting.” Lottie smiled sweetly. She had dripped every last ounce of insinuation she had into the word friend. She prayed Jake possessed some semblance of a brain. Or at least lower instincts. Hell, she’d take a brain stem.

Jake blinked at her, uncomprehendingly. School God, Lottie noted smugly, didn’t look used to rejection.

“Are you...leaving?” he finally sputtered, perfectly high cheekbones turning a pleasing shade of fuchsia. Lottie sighed despite herself. It really wasn’t fair that such a Neanderthal possessed such excellent features.

“Yes,” she replied with obvious patience. “I have to go meet Tommy.” He stared at her again. She gathered her papers, suppressing a shudder at the mess.

“Later?” he ventured weakly, knitting his brow. Good, she confused him. If Lottie wasn’t so positive Spaghetti-Os had the same affect, she might be flattered.

“I doubt it,” Lottie replied cheerfully. “I’m very busy. Senior year you know. See you at graduation!” She strode to the door, looking back only once. Marie, who had switched tables the moment Lottie began packing her books, glared at her fiercely. Jake was still at the table, staring at her empty chair.

Shit, Lottie realized with a start. The bet was still on.

A/N Just the first chapter, character development later. Please review?