"Jasper Evans, you are the most infuriating, most self-righteous creature I've ever set eyes on. I can't even fathom the fact that I love you. Yes, I said it! I love you, I know, it's crazy! But love is like someone slapping a "kick me," sign, right on your back. You never know it's there, and it hurts like hell. Tell you what, I'll let you pull all kinds of pranks on me, just don't let me find a "kick me," sign when I turn around."

Chapter 1: White T-Shirt, Black Coffee

Hey. Hi. Nice to meet you. I assume you're here to get to know me, but lets be honest, you're just eagerly waiting for me to flash my racks. Let me tell you buddy, I don't roll that way. I have a policy which forbids any guy from slithering down my pants on the first date, or the second date, heck even the eleventh. Especially since I'm wearing a dress...not jeans...which, by the way, I bought at such a convenient price- but that's not the point! Look, I understand if your friend...down there... has been waiting all day for this, but lets not get too excited. We need to get one thing straight first, I don't spread my thunder thighs for just any fella, I respect the formalities, and if that's something you don't fancy then you can just-


You're not looking for sex? You'd like to get to know me? Really? You're not saying that to get laid tonight, are you?

My life story? From top to bottom? Shit. Well, that's an odd request. Where do I begin?

Who am I? I'm Grace, haven't we established this when I barfed chunks all over your shirt back in the parking lot?

The real me? Well buddy, that's probably as real as it gets.

Oh alright fine. It's only because you're paying for dinner tonight.

Some call me cunning, some call me charming, and dare I say, others call me the fiery ginger hottie (actually no one has ever called me that) but most know me as Grace. Grace Clark. I'd like to think my biological parents were legendary. I don't know, perhaps my dad was a rock star, or my mom playing a lead role of some groundbreaking discovery. Hell, I even convinced myself that they were superheroes in hiding. But I guess I never found out because I've always lived with my uncle and his greasy step wife and step children.

Living in that house was a nightmare. Aunt Linda was bat shit crazy while her kids were a bunch of greedy, little twats. But I guess it wasn't too bad assuming Uncle Ryan always treated me like his own. I remembered that evil step woman wiping his bank clean and trying to escape with his fortune, but long story short, she fell in a well and her crimes were exposed. Luckily, Uncle Ryan finally gained some sense and dumped that woman like yesterday's trash. Hah.

Well, besides that, he continues to support my future endeavors by supplying me with the resources I need through college. And look at me, still failing at virtually every aspect of my life.

By the way, this pasta is delicious. Nom.

*Cough* You want to know about my love life? Gosh, trust me buddy, still no story there. I've tried everything mutual friends, social groups, hell, I even resorted to Tinder. I'm starting to think relationships are more trouble than they're worth.

My first love? You want to know about my first love? Um...hah, well that's a dangerous territory to embark on- even for me.

No, m-my eyes aren't welling up. I'm totally fine! That part of my life is done and over with. I can totally tell you all about my first relationship without feeling any sort of remorse what so ever.

You don't think I can? Alright. Challenge accepted.

It started out in my senior year of high school...

Yes, it isn't some cute little story about my elementary sweetheart, this is the real deal. Now, shut up and let me tell my story.

As I was saying, It started out in my senior year of high school...

"Ready, okay! We're number one, can't be number two, fake bitches want to be like us, but cant! Yay!" The crowd went crazy as the group of cheerleaders disassembled their pyramid and energetically waved their pom-poms.

"What the hell was that? It didn't even rhyme!" I holler as the herd of Barbie dolls tumbled towards their table reserved for the "popular kids." "This is bogus, I thought cheerleaders were supposed to cheer people up. I can't believe the school funds this shit."

Chloe oogles at the dancing sun kissed, beach blonde bimbos. "You gotta admit though, their uniforms are pretty cute." She presses on the tops of her chest, observing them carefully. "Though I wonder if the flatness of my boobs would be more apparent through that outfit."

I snort. "You don't have to worry about that. That dumb short, skirt, creep magnet costume won't be on you any time soon. You're not interested in being a cheerleader."

Chloe goes mute for awhile, which worried the shit out of me.

"Chloe...you have no interest in that stupid sport...right?"

"Well..." She smiles sheepishly. As soon as the thought clicked, I grabbed my lunch tray, and immediately stood from my seat.

"Sorry, but I can no longer associate myself with you." I say, without a trace of humor. I continue to excuse myself from the table.

"Grace!" She follows me out. "Look, I know you hate cheerleaders, you always have, I get that, but this could be a great opportunity to try something new, you know, find myself!"

"If you want to find yourself, the cheer team is the last place to do it. You're better off playing with hazardous chemicals with the science dorks than dipping your hair in peroxide and stuffing your bra in tissues!"

"Grace! I'm serious-"

"Chloe, when the hell did you decide that joining that evil cult would be a good idea? The last time I checked, we were both on the same page!"

Chloe bit her lower lip like a guilty child being reprimanded. "I don't know. I was thinking about it lately, and... it seemed fun?"

"Fun? You think being pushed around by Ms. 'I'm-too-good-for-anyone-because- I- am- the- fucking-team- captain-who-has-perfect-firm-tits-to-which-all-the-boys-drools over' is fun?"

"To be fair, you aren't hot shit either," Chloe mumbles.

I raise a menacing brow.

"Sorry, but I'm not asking you to express a liking for cheer, I'm just asking you to tolerate and support me, like a real friend would. Now if you'd excuse, I need to be somewhere."

Chloe brushes a golden lock of hair, behind her ear before pushing past me, and making her way down the hall.

"Chloe!" I holler. "Chloe!" I yell once more. "Damn, I hate when she's right."

I collect my composure with a sigh of exasperation before whirling around towards the courtyard again.

A excruciatingly hot, and wet sensation dispersed through my chest and torso, dripping down my sleeves. I look down at my clothes in utter shock, finding myself completely drenched in black coffee. Who the hell even drinks black coffee!?

Mind you, I was wearing a white shirt, and being that I often miss gym, did not bring spare clothing.

I look up at the person who committed such a horrendous act against me, expecting to be at their knees begging for forgiveness, but to my disbelief, he was just staring back at me. He was staring back at me with a non-apologetic look, buried by a pair of smug aviators. His entire look just read "ultimate douchebag."

I felt my blood boil. The brat didn't have the common decency to even apologize, let alone offer me his coat or something, by the way, looked pretty darn expensive. He simply stared at me- no- into me, which got me even more riled up.

I cleared my throat, hinting that he should probably use some common sense and help me through this predicament. "Hello!?" I shriek.

He finally made a move, lifting a finger to point at the large stain on my white shirt. "Hey, you got a little something there. You might wanna clean it up."

Without another word, he walks past me, sipping what's left of his stupid black coffee. My jaw hung open in disbelief.

Yeah, believe it or not, he was my first love...