RE-READERS: First off, I'd like to thank you for reading again (as if it wasn't painful the first time, haha). Second, please please please do not post any spoilers. I didn't think there was a need to include a message like this, but apparently there is. Be considerate to other readers and think about your first time reading it. If I see any comments, they will be deleted and you will be blocked.

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Chapter 1: My Apple is Green, but Their Envy is Greener

I dropped my lunch tray down onto the table and plopped down next to Lucas, my best friend. He was chatting animatedly with the group, a wide grin spread across his face, complete with two little dimples. All the girls rolled their eyes while the guys patted his back and congratulated him.

"What's up, Luke?" I asked curiously.

"I took Laurel's virginity," he gloated.

My eyes widened. "You what? When?"

Great. I was now the last virgin at Addison High School, freshmen included.

"Yup. Now I'm tied with the Top Four," he stated proudly.

The boys in our grade played a game. The object was to sleep with as many virgins as you could by the end of the year and whoever slept with the most won the title of the Virginator and respect from the rest of the class. The Top Four had been ahead since freshmen year, with Luke following close behind them. It was really immature, but the rest of our class seemed to enjoy cheering on their favorite competitor.

The Top Four were from completely different social groups, but they shared two things: the number of virgins they corrupted and the fact that they were all undeniably attractive. The Top Four consisted of Tyler Bradshaw, the bad boy; Alec Jennings, the athlete; Beckett Cartwright, the genius; and Ian Jameson, the rich guy. Lucas was classified as "the boy next door."

Sure, several girls have tried to avoid them, but they all fell under their charm. I was never really a target. I made sure to fly under their radar, and it worked. They probably all assumed that Luke took mine or something like that. And as long as they didn't come after me, I was okay with that.

Laurel had the five guys chasing her, constantly flirting with her for two weeks. Poor girl didn't even get enough sleep and came to school with giant bags under her eyes. She must've gotten tired of it and gave in to Luke. Either that or she was drunk.

There were others who craved the attention of the guys and I think you know the kind of girls I'm talking about. Yes, we had those stereotypical evil cheerleaders in their too tiny uniforms and fake blonde hair. You want to know the pathetic excuse they used to get to them? They pretended they were virgins. Please, as if the guys would fall for that.

"So that means I'm the only one left?" I whispered.

"Yup, you're the tiebreaker, Charlie! Don't you feel special? You get to choose who wins! It's all on your shoulders now. No pressure."

No, I don't feel special. I feel far from it. I don't want to be the tiebreaker or choose who the ultimate champion of this childish game was. And when someone says "no pressure," most times it added pressure. And right now, I was definitely feeling the pressure. Everyone was relying on me to sleep with one of them so they could have a champion. I contemplated sleeping with someone who weren't the main competitors, just to spite them. But I wasn't. I was saving myself for someone special. I didn't have to be married or anything, just in a long term relationship with someone I really loved.

I clamped my hand around Luke's mouth and quickly looked around to see if anyone overheard his loud remark. "Shut up," I hissed. "No one needs to know that I'm still a virgin. And you're not going to tell anyone." I poked his hard chest, just to make a point.

"All right, all right! I won't tell anyone you want me."

"Luke!"

"I'm kidding...maybe. But as payment for keeping your secret, you owe me your lunch."

He slid my lunch tray in front of him and began to devour my food like a wild animal. Boys.

"You should keep my secret because we're best friends."

"I like my idea better."

"But I'm hungry."

He tossed a granny smith apple my way, muttering his hatred for all things green. This was the best I was going to get. Luke was oddly protective of food, no matter whose it was. Maybe all boys were like that.

I sighed and bit into the juicy apple, savoring the sour taste. Yes, I'm weird. I like sour things, so sue me.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whipped around and found myself face to face with Ian Jameson, the guy who owned everything. His grey eyes had a mischievous glint to it and his dark hair was messy, but in a cute kind of way. He wore an expensive looking black button up and dark wash jeans, which also looked equally pricey. He was lean and toned, but not necessary to the six-pack point.

He was a loud mouth, cocky sex addict that oozed confidence, no doubt from his bags of money and good looks. Everyone knew he didn't do relationships and I doubt that anyone would want to be in a relationship with that personality.

"It's Charlotte, right?"

"That would be my name, yes," I responded dryly.

I had a feeling I knew where this conversation was going, and I wasn't looking forward to it.

"I lost my virginity. Can I have yours?" he asked, his eyebrows crunched up, as if he was actually looking for a missing object.

I coughed, choking on my apple. What did he just say? "Excuse me?"

He smirked at me knowingly. "You heard me."

That guy had some audacity. I slapped him across the face, hearing the contact between my hand and his cheek. And it felt good. I was going to get it from his fan girls later on, but it was so worth it. "Get lost."

He didn't even seem the least stunned by my slap, which infuriated me even more. "I am in your eyes."

Cheesy much? "You're so full of yourself."

"You could be full of me too. All you had to do was ask, babe."

"Don't call me 'babe'. And stop with the innuendos!"

"I'll stop...for now, princess."

"Princess?"

"You told me to stop calling you 'babe'."

And you actually listened? "Don't give me any nicknames."

"If you insist, pumpkin."

"Ian..."

"Kitten..."

My temper was running short. Real short. "Go away, Ian."

"Will you come with me if I go?"

"No."

"Then no."

"What will it take for me to make you leave?"

"Sleep with me."

"No."

"Then I'm just going to sit right here," he said, sitting in the vacant seat next to me.

"Please don't."

He smirked, but didn't budge. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. I darted out of the lunchroom, banging my knee on the table in the process. I winced, but didn't slow my pace. I wasn't going to give Ian another chance to talk to me. He was a pig; a rich and handsome pig, but a pig nevertheless.

***

"We will be getting new lab partners on Monday," Mrs. Haggle announced. "They will be your permanent lab partners for the rest of the semester."

"Do we get to pick them?" Abigail, a slightly plump senior asked hopefully.

Mrs. Haggle smiled wickedly. "No, I will pick them. It's one of the perks of being a teacher."

The entire class groaned. Mrs. Haggle was the worst person to pair people up because whenever she does, which is often, they end up hating each other. I wasn't looking forward to being paired up with an idiot, which is pretty much what the senior class consisted of. The handful of intelligent ones was not in this class, except for Beckett.

Beckett Cartwright pretty much had valedictorian in the bag. He had the option of graduating our sophomore year, but declined because he wanted the "high school experience." If I were him, I would've snatched that opportunity instead of two more years in Hell. Although I have to admit, it would be weird seeing a fifteen year old walking around the Harvard campus. He was going to become a surgeon, but he could've been anything he wanted; he definitely had the grades for it. He could be president, as he was in quite a few political clubs; an astronaut; or even the next Hugh freaking Heffner. He was in the Top Four after all. He was cute with his bright blue eyes and his brown curls, but I'm pretty sure the girls liked the brain. Guys with brains were sexy.

Not only did I hate science, it was my lowest grade. I've always been more of an English person. I just didn't know anything about bases and body parts; it all got jumbled up in my mind. And don't even get me started on genetics...let's just say that my dad was not happy with my chemistry grade last semester.

I wasn't looking forward to being a target to the Top Four. If Ian knew, then everybody was bound to know sooner or later. I was hoping for the latter, but with my luck, it would be the former. I didn't need-or want-all of the extra attention that came with being a virgin, especially during senior year. I didn't need the distraction, and that's what boys would do: distract. I've never had a boyfriend before, and my first kiss was with Luke when we were like eight. That didn't really count because I lost a dare with Luke.

The rest of the class dragged on. Every time I looked at the clock, which was quite frequent, the minute hand would still be in the same spot. The bell finally rang and I rushed out of the room. We have block scheduling, so I only had four classes a day, but they were rather long. I stopped at my locker to put my books away and collect my homework. Just as I was about to close it, I saw a flash of yellow. It was a sticky note, and in neat print, it read:

I wish I were adenine because then I could get paired with U.-Beckett.

Aw, that was so sweet! Nerdy and cheesy, but that was another reason that girls liked Beckett. How did he get it to my locker so fast? I really hoped that Beckett would be my lab partner-I sure needed him to pass the class!

I scurried off to Luke's locker. His was at the other end of the school, so when I got there, the hallways were empty, except for the occasional straggler. Luke and I are next door neighbors, so we carpool. There was no need to waste more gas than needed.

I tiptoed toward him and he whipped around and swung me in the air. "Put me down!" I demanded, lightly hitting his head.

"Don't sneak up on me if you're not going to be quiet about it."

"I was quiet."

"No you weren't. You have loud feet."

"Just put me down! You know I'm scared of heights!"

"You're not even up that high."

"Don't drop me!"

He rolled his eyes. "You think I'm going to drop you? You weigh like ten pounds."

He did as I asked and set me down onto the ground. "Hurry up and get your crap together. I'm in the mood for ice cream!"

"Relax, I'm ready," he said, shutting the door to his locker and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

I skipped to his truck, pulling him along, and hopped into the passenger seat.

"McDonalds?" he suggested.

"To get ice cream? I don't think so. I want to go to a real ice cream shop. Take me to Paul's!"

"But Paul's is so expensive!" he whined.

I shot him my puppy face. I saw him try to resist it, but he eventually gave in. My puppy face was his kryptonite. I smiled smugly as we pulled up to the cute little shop. I ordered cookies n' cream, my favorite, and Luke got chocolate chip cookie dough. He offered to pay and I let him; when a man offers to pay, you don't turn him down. I tried turning him down once...he wouldn't talk to me for a week. Men and their egos.

I convinced him to sit outside under the soft yellow and white awning. The tables out there were prettier than the ones inside.

"Oh, guess what?" I asked, munching on my sugary treat.

"What?" Luke responded, mouth full of ice cream.

I gave him a disgusted look, even though it was fake. I really didn't care if he talked with his mouth full...I wasn't picky like that. "Don't talk with your mouth full," I scolded. "And Beckett put the sweetest note in my locker!"

He swallowed his ice cream and stared at me blankly. "What did it say?"

"It was some science pickup line, but it was nothing like Ian's. This one was so adorable!"

"Don't you think that's creepy?"

"What?"

"That he knows where your locker is."

"I have a locker sign."

"Still..."

"Jealous?" I teased.

"Yeah, I am," he said bluntly.

Well, gee. I wasn't expecting that answer. Not at all. He was jealous? Which maybe meant that he-

He burst out laughing. "Your face!"

I frowned and pushed him. "That's not funny."

"If you saw it..."

"You're a jerk, you know that?"

"And don't you forget it! So is there a movie in theaters that you wanted to watch?"

I shook my head. There was nothing good on right now. "Let's just have movie night at your place."

"Yeah, okay. You can pick if you want."

My face lit up. He never let me choose. "Really?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you want me to pick?"

"No, I want to!" I reassured him quickly, earning me a quiet chuckle from him.

"I'm joking, but I already know what you're going to pick."

"How?"

"Because you watch the same movie everytime I let you pick."

"Maybe I'll pick a different movie this time."

"Doubt it."

"Alright, I won't. But I love 50 First Dates!"

"It's more like a Billion First Dates," Luke muttered. "We've watched it so many times."

"Stop complaining. You know you secretly love it."

"Right..."

"Shall we go? I want to watch the movie as many times as you'll let me."

"Which would be once."

We pulled up to his driveway and I waltzed through the door to his house as if it were my home. I could do that; I practically lived there. I've known him since he moved into the house next door to mine. It was the summer before kindergarten began...

My father had looked out the window and shoved a plate of cookies that he bought in my hands. He shooed me out the door in to the pouring rain and shouted, "Give these to the neighbors!"

My dad was always a little bit scatterbrained. What kind of normal person sends their little girl to give the neighbors cookies? I quickly ran to the safety of their porch and stood up on my tippy toes to reach the doorbell. I was about two inches to short to ring it, so I settled for pounding my fist on the white oak door.

I heard someone running down the stairs and the door opened. A thin lady with caramel ringlets and bright green eyes appeared. She looked around, frowned, and shut the door. I began knocking again and shouting in my little baby voice, "Open the door! I have cookies!"

The door quickly opened and her eyes darted downwards. She gasped and pulled me inside. "I'm so sorry, darling! Come in, come in."

"These are for you!" I cried, sticking my arms out and handing her the plate of cookies.

"Thank you, honey. I'm Mrs. Chandler. What's your name?"

"Charlotte!"

"Do you live next door, Charlotte?"

I nodded my head. She smiled at me and called up the stairs, "Lucas, come down here, please!"

I heard tiny footsteps padding across the floor above me and soon enough, a blonde little boy appeared. His shaggy waves bounced as he bounded down the steps and his mouth was turned up into a grin.

"Lucas, this is our neighbor, Charlotte. Charlotte, this is my son, Lucas."

"Hi, Charlie!" Lucas piped.

I was not so bold, so I gave him a small wave and whispered, "Hi...but my name's not Charlie, it's Charlotte."

"You want to come up to my room?" Lucas invited.

"I have to go home, it's almost lunchtime. But maybe later if it's okay with your mom?" I suggested, hopefully.

Mrs. Chandler seemed delighted at the idea and nodded her head.

"Yay!" Lucas cheered.

"Why don't you walk her home?" Mrs. Chandler suggested.

Lucas agreed and Mrs. Chandler handed him a big red umbrella. I followed Lucas out the door. We shuffled to my house, practically huddling under the umbrella. When we got to my porch, he whispered, "I like the cupcakes on your jammies."

"Thanks, I like your light up shoes. I wish I had a pair!"

"Really? You can have them if you want?"

I scrunched my nose. "Those are boy shoes."

He grinned and I found myself grinning back. I skipped inside and shut the door. After lunch, the doorbell rang. My dad answered it and told me I had a visitor. It was none other than Lucas.

"Can I go play with Lucas today?" I asked. "He's our neighbor."

"Sure, just let me ask him a few questions, okay?"

My dad squatted down to eye level with Lucas. "Are you going to take care of my little girl?"

"I'll always protect her, sir," he said sternly, looking my dad straight in the eye.

My dad let out a hearty chortle. "You kids go play."

The heavy rain turned into a light drizzle. "I'll race you," he challenged.

"Okay, but I have to tell you, I'm already five."

"I'm five and a half," he bragged.

I frowned and sprinted towards the grey and white house. "I win!" I cried, smirking at him.

He mumbled something along the lines of, "I let you win."

I followed him up to his room. It was beyond colorful and toys were scattered everywhere. He reached into a little bowl on top of his dresser and fished out a little pink bow. To be more specific, my little pink bow. He carefully handed me the bow, as if it were going to break. "You dropped it," he told me. "But don't worry, I took good care of it."

I beamed. "Thank you! Can you put it in my hair for me?"

"Sure!" he agreed excitedly, awkwardly clipping it in my long, dark curls.

"Hey Luke? Can I borrow some PJs?" I hollered, shuffling through his closet.

"Yeah, sure," he shouted back.

I put on the grey pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. I bounded the stairs and saw Lucas inserting my favorite movie into the DVD player. Every Friday, we had a movie night, complete with buttery popcorn, sweet and salty snacks, and soda. We've had this tradition since we were eleven.

I plopped down onto the cushy, black leather couch. "Go make me some popcorn," I demanded.

"Why should I?"

"I'm the guest."

He chuckled. "You're hardly classified as a guest. You practically live here. In fact, for letting you stay here so much, I think you should make me popcorn."

I frowned and spread my legs so there was no room left. Ha. Now he had to sit on the floor. That'll teach him to be my slave and make me food.

"Move your legs, Charlie."

I gave up long ago trying to convince him to call me Char or Charlotte. His nickname was kind of endearing...in a Luke kind of way.

"Hm...no."

He shrugged and sat on me. Ouch, he was heavy; really heavy.

"Get off me, Luke!"

"Hm...no."

"Well then at least lose ten pounds. You're going to suffocate me and I don't want you to have murder on your hands -err-butt."

"You're so considerate. I didn't know you cared so much, Charlie!" he gushed. "If you're so worried, you go make the popcorn."

"I always make the popcorn."

"That's a lie."

"Okay, I made it once."

"And I've made it all the other bazillion times. Get your lazy butt off my couch and into the kitchen!" he said, pushing me off.

I trudged into the kitchen, defeated. I made a giant bowl of popcorn and made my way back to the living room. Luke was rapidly texting and he didn't look too happy about the conversation.

"Who're you texting?" I asked curiously, sitting down next to him.

He glanced at me and stuffed his phone in his pocket. "No one important."

"It seemed important. Your fingers were working pretty quickly there."

"Just some quick texting before we watch the movie. Hurry up and start it."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're never this eager to watch 50 First Dates. If anything, you put it off."

"I'm just in an Adam Sandler mood, that's all."

"Uh-huh, sure you are. You don't like Adam Sandler," I pointed out. "Now spill, mister."

"There's nothing to spill."

"Except your guts."

"Just stay out of it, Charlotte."

Oh crap. He called me Charlotte. He never called me Charlotte, always Charlie. He must really not want to tell me, which was a bad sign because we told each other everything.

"What are you hiding from me?" I demanded, slightly hurt.

"Just stay out of it, okay? It's none of your business."

"I'm your best friend. Of course it's my business!

"Just leave it alone, Charlotte!"

Was he that dense? We were practically twins and as cheesy as it sounds, he was my other half. When I was younger and more naïve, I used to think we were soul mates. Part of me still thinks we are, but I know it'll never happen.

I'm not going to lie to you-I'm in love with my Luke. It's not going to be one of those cliché love stories for us though because he doesn't like me like that. I started developing feelings for him around my fourteenth birthday. At fifteen, I realized that I loved him. I was going to tell him how I felt on my seventeenth birthday, but it was quickly pushed back into the corner of my heart. There was a reason why I chickened out; it was Luke's new piece of information that stopped me.

He was bragging for weeks about the fact that he slept with Lauren, the head cheerleader. To say the least, I was completely crushed. I cried for months after that. I had started to think that he liked me back, but like always, I was wrong.

"Fine, whatever, don't tell me. Just don't lie to me. You know I hate lying."

I angrily pressed the play button and drifted off into the land of Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler.

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