Let me begin by saying I'm not one to believe in love at first sight. I don't usually fall for guys I know or even guys I've seen around school, I'm the kind of girl who has meaningless crushes on celebrities that are far too old for me anyway. That being said, there's a first time for everything…

It all started on the first day of my junior year in high school. Well, the first full day. I was standing in the hall with my friends between sixth and seventh period when he walked by. He was slender, of average height, and pale, with jet black hair that reached a little past his ears. He stopped right near where I was standing and looked down at his schedule. I took advantage of the fact that he was distracted and analyzed his face. He had deep hazel eyes, a long, angular nose, and narrow, soft pink lips. Overall, he was stunning. I could've stared at him for much longer, but he had apparently found where he needed to go next, because he walked away.

Suddenly, someone was snapping their fingers in front of my face. "Erica! Were you staring at that guy?" Chelsea asked, loudly. I snapped back into reality.

"No!" I exclaimed. The rest of the group looked at me and shrugged. "Well, I gotta go. Remember, cheer practice is right after school on the football field." I quickly departed and made my way to my next class, studio art. I was the first one in the room when I arrived, so I sat in the back. I took out my sketchbook and began to doodle a portrait of Bruce Dickinson. People began to file in and they all sat closer to the front, knowing better than to bother me while I was drawing. The seats slowly filled up until the only one left was next to me. Just as the bell was ringing, I heard someone run into the room to avoid being late. The boy came and sat next to me. I didn't bother to look up and see who it was.

The teacher began her insufferable lecturing and I continued to draw, tuning her, and the rest of the world, out. Well, I was trying to. At least until the guy next to me said, "That's a really good drawing." I smiled.

"Thanks," I replied, looking up at him. I was stunned to realize that it was the same guy I'd seen in the hallway.

"I'm Gerard, what's your name?" he asked.

"I'm Erica," I said, "You have a very interesting name, Gerard. I like it." He grinned and I thought I saw him blush a little.

"Thanks," he replied, "So, you like Iron Maiden?"

"Yeah," I said, "This really looks like Bruce to you? I didn't think anyone would be able to tell."

"Seriously? It looks great," he replied. I smiled again.

The teacher glared at us, silently telling us to shut the hell up. We did, and I went back to my drawing. Gerard took out his sketchbook and began drawing something, too, but I couldn't see what. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him glancing at me from time to time, but I couldn't be sure.

A short while later, I finished my drawing. "Hey Gerard," I whispered, "What do you think?" He looked over at the page and smiled.

"I love it," he replied, "Can I see the rest of your drawings?"

"Sure," I said, handing over my sketchbook. He flipped through it, taking time to look at every portrait and random doodle that it contained.

"Amazing," he muttered when he was done.

"Thanks," I replied, "Can I see what you were drawing?" He blushed, seemingly racking his brain for an excuse to say no.

"Um… it's not done yet. Maybe later," he said.

"I'll hold you to that," I replied, smiling. Just then, the bell rang. "See you tomorrow."

"See ya," he said.

Eighth period came and went, and finally it was time for practice. Before I went out to the field, I quickly changed in the bathroom and pulled my long black hair into a ponytail. I was one of the first ones there, and everyone else showed up a few minutes later. We don't have a coach at the moment, and probably won't for the rest of the season, so as captain, it's my job to run practices. We started off going over our dance a few times. Everyone knew it well, so we didn't spend too long on that. Later, we stunted. We only have three flyers, and I'm one of them. We worked on our pyramid first, for which I'm in the center. At some point, four boys went and sat in the back row of the bleachers. None of us really took notice. We started working on single group stunts. The other flyers were working on extensions and libs, but I was working on bow-and-arrows and needles. (Now you see why I'm in the center for the pyramid.) The groups of five went off separately to work on what they needed.

My group and I started off with scales and scorpions. While I was in the air, I noticed I knew one of the boys in the bleachers. It was Gerard! He didn't appear to have noticed me. Once I was back on the ground, I asked my group if they would keep me up long enough to say hi to him next time. They agreed, of course teasing me a little, accusing me of liking him.

The next stunt we did was a heelstretch. "Gerard!" I yelled. He turned around, noticing me immediately. I used my free hand to wave to him and he waved back, smiling. I maintained eye contact with him as my back spotter counted off and I twisted down. "Okay, guys!" I announced to the whole team, "Great practice. You guys can go, I'll get the poms." The team dissipated, leaving me alone on the field. I started picking up the poms we had brought out to practice the dance with and throwing them into the oversized clear storage box that we kept them in. The box was too big for me to pick up on my own, so I grabbed one end and dragged it toward the gym. It was no easy task, with my backpack hanging from my shoulder in addition, but I managed. Suddenly, someone grabbed the other end and picked it up. I changed my grip on the handle so I could turn around and see who it was. Gerard, of course. "Thanks," I said.

"No problem," he replied, smiling. We put the box in the sports equipment closet in the gym.

"I just wanted to say… that was really cool, what you did up there," he said.

"Oh, the heelstretch? I have much cooler stuff than that," I replied, "This, for instance." I did a needle.

"Being that flexible should be a crime," Gerard said. I smiled and came down. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," I replied, "I'm kidding. Shoot."

"Could you maybe model for me sometime, so I could draw you?" he asked.

"I'd be honored," I said, "But wouldn't you rather have someone pretty?"

"Why would I want someone pretty when I already have someone gorgeous?" he asked.

"Shut up," I replied, blushing.

"Seriously, though," he said, "You are gorgeous."

"No I'm not, I'm ugly and fat," I replied.

"Did you really just say that? You are not fat! In the dictionary next to antonyms of the word 'fat', they have a picture of you," he said. I laughed.

"You speak lies!" I replied. He smiled deviously. Suddenly, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. "What are you doing?!"

"Proving it to you," he said.

"This proves nothing, you're just strong!" I replied.

"My little brother is stronger than me," he said.

"Whatever. Can you put me down now?" I asked.

"Nope," he replied, beginning to walk toward the hallway.

"Where are we going?" I followed up.

"To my car. I'm taking you to my house and you're modeling for me," he replied, "That is, if you're not busy."

"I'm not," I said.

"Good," he replied. Thank god there was nobody in the halls, because that would've been embarrassing. He didn't put me down until we reached his car. We both got in and the ride to his house was short.

On the outside, his house was beautiful. It was a 2-story Victorian, painted cream colored with white trim. He led me inside and down to his room, which was in the basement. "Now, before we begin…" he trailed off. He jumped on me and pinned me to his bed, holding my arms down so I couldn't fight. "Admit you're not fat or I'll kiss you."

"Is that a threat…" I began "Or a promise?"