A/N:This story has been buzzing around in my head for about two months now. Basically, I was really ill with the flu a few months back and had to spend a week in bed. Let's just say I watched a lot of Felicity and Say Anything. This story is SVM meets Felicity and pretty much most of the shows on the now defunct WB.

I think their influences are pretty obvious in this first chapter and I even lifted a few lines, here and there.

Please don't sue me J.J. Abrams or Cameron Crowe!

Anyway, I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own SVM or True Blood nor am I affiliated with HBO in anyway. SVM and True Blood belong to Charlaine Harris, Alan Ball and the good people at HBO. I am only using these characters for the purpose of this story.

Chapter 1: Can You Tell

Dear Gran… You should probably be sitting down for this. First of all, everything was perfectly fine. I mean… you know, on paper, the end of high school was going exactly as it was supposed to…

It's the penultimate school day of the year and there's an intense vibe permeating the air as my fellow classmates sit restlessly before me, melting in the hot Louisiana sun. They stare at me, waiting, as I stand nervously at the podium, working up the nerve to begin my speech.

I step closer to the microphone and clear my throat.

"Hi… umm…" The microphone makes a loud, screeching feedback noise. I wait until the noise subsides and start again. "Sorry…umm, hi… well… ah… what can I say…" I look out into the crowd and notice the hard, impatient eyes staring back at me. Right Stackhouse, get a grip, you can do this, I think to myself.

"The real world… We are about to enter... the real world," I say, looking hopelessly down at my index cards. You see, I have this whole speech prepared where I talk about the future and dole out asinine advice about life. But looking at my words, I don't really feel like saying them out loud. They seem false, contrived. So I do something I've never done before. Like ever. I go off script.

I sigh deeply and shrug my shoulders. "That's what everyone says, anyway. But here's the thing. Most of us… well, most of us have already been in the 'real world'. Some of us longer than others. And I've got to be honest here. When I think about my life and I think about my future I'm… I'm scared," I admit with a shaky smile. I notice a subtle shift in the crowd. Everyone leans forward, just a touch, paying attention for the first time since the graduation ceremony began.

"You see, high school, it's almost over. We've got maybe another…" I pause and look at the watch on my wrist for dramatic effect, "forty-five minutes and then… it's done. Most of us have gone to school together for four years, some of us since elementary school and we've been through a lot. But now that the safety blanket of high school has been taken away, we're all kind of wondering what the hell's going to happen to us?" I notice a few nods in the crowd.

"That's what we're all thinking, right? I mean, we all know what we want, right? We want to be happy, go to college, get a job, fall in love. Maybe bum around Europe or even start a family. But what if… what if none these things happen?" My voice hitches for just a moment.

"So, yeah, when I think about the future… I'm scared. And you know, that's okay. I'm eighteen. I'm not meant to have all the answers. Up until today, my life seemed so mapped out. But I realized something. My life shouldn't be mapped out for me and I don't want it to be. I want to mess up. I want to say and do dumb things. Cause that's what life after high school is about. Making those mistakes and knowing that their mine and mine alone…to fix... or not," I shrug, looking out at the crowd with a more confident smile.

"And for the first time, since stepping up to this podium, I actually feel like… like I'm going to be alright." I notice the nodding in the crowd has gotten more enthusiastic. "Better than alright, I feel…" I laugh nervously, "hopeful. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know where I'm going to be in five years or what I'll be doing, but that's the beauty of it. I don't have to and neither do you," I finish my little speech and suddenly feel nervous again, not really sure how to end it. "Umm, so... yeah, anyway, thanks for listening and, hey, who knows, maybe we'll cross paths one day."

There's silence. Total silence. And for one moment, I think I've completely messed it up. But then, that energy I felt when I stepped up to the podium returns and there's like this wave of sound making its way from the back of the crowd to the front. And before I know what's happening, there's a deafening roar and my classmates jump up and cheer and clap and I smile. My first genuine smile of the day.

I'm quickly ushered off the stage and back into my seat. The principal, Alcee Beck, takes to the podium and the handing out of diplomas begins.

Gran, it was like, this is it. This is where it ends and where it begins…

I think back to half an hour before graduation started. I was walking down the hall heading to my locker for the last time. There were packs of kids moving past me, hugging and signing yearbooks. Posing for pictures and exchanging numbers. No one seemed to notice me and I had nothing to say to anyone. Let's just say that I'd pretty much spent the last four years keeping to myself.

I noticed a couple of kids chucking the last remaining items in their lockers into trash bags. I turned to my locker and started entering in my combination. And then suddenly, it was like, I was surrounded by last times. The last time I'd walk up the B staircase. The last time I'd eat lunch on the grass and read under the willow tree in the quad. Or like… the last time I'd use my locker combo. 18, 22, 5. Gone.

I looked in my locker and there were a few books, a non-descript calendar taped to the inside of the door and a bag of Kettle chips. No photos or silly notes or poems. Nothing too personal. Nothing that said anything overtly obvious about the person who'd once inhabited this space.

As I peeled off the calendar from my locker door, I see him. Eric Northman. He's opening his locker, ten rows down. He's too beautiful not to keep looking, and I couldn't stop looking even if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to.

He's the type of guy who's so charming, instantly likable that you wish you knew him, were friends with him. Or dating him.

Gran, I guess all I'm saying is that even though I never felt like I really fit in… still, there were some things about high school I was going to miss.

I half hid behind my locker door and stared at Eric Northman wistfully.

I'm jolted from my inner musings by a name being read over the loud speaker.

"Eric Alexander Northman," Principal Beck reads out.

Many students cheer and shout his name, jumping up and down, applauding wildly. I watch as Eric walks toward the podium – fist bumps a couple of guys from the football team en route – before shaking Principal Beck's hand and taking his diploma. I can't take my eyes off him. Did I mention how beautiful he is? He turns to the crowd and smiles, winking at someone in the audience.

I notice a movement in the corner of my eye and spy my parents, Corbett and Michelle Stackhouse, sitting in the bleachers with my brother Jason. My mom shifts excitedly in her seat, talking to my dad, while he fiddles with the controls on the video camera. My brother Jason flirts unashamedly with a cute little brunette sitting in front of him.

"Susannah Adele Stackhouse, Class Valedictorian, graduates with Honors."

My parents cheer far, far too loudly when my name is called. My dad films while my mom happily snaps away on the camera. Their reaction to my name being called is embarrassing to say the least. Incredibly, they cheer even louder when I accept my diploma and honors ropes which are placed on top of my valedictorian ribbon. It's not that I don't appreciate my parents' show of support. I do – really. But, you see, it's just that well, apart from my brother, they seem to be the only ones cheering and they're drawing attention to themselves. Irritated parents and students turn to look at my parents. The whole experience is beyond mortifying.

"I present to you, Bon Temps High School's Class of 2006!" Principal Beck announces, once the last student has collected his diploma and sits back down.

Mercifully, the ceremony ends shortly after that and the next thing I know, hundreds of caps sail into the sky as if in slow motion.

I recently read in an article in the paper that crash victims – people who lose a limb – say that they can still feel the missing arm or leg even after it's gone. I think it's called phantom pain. Well, Gran, sitting there surrounded by all of these happy, smiling faces, I suddenly had this horrible thought. What if high school went away, but the feeling didn't? I mean, I didn't feel joy. Or sorrow. Or anticipation. Everyone around me seemed genuinely happy, excited… I just felt hollowed out.

Everyone is so excited, optimistic about their future.

In three months I'd be at Harvard, then in four years, Harvard Law School. Gran, you know, it hit me like a ten ton truck. My life was mapped out for me… everything already in place... things were going so well… I should have been happy, elated… but as I sat there… all I could feel was…

I watch as the caps land on the ground, still feeling disconnected from everyone and everything around me.

All I could feel was… dread.

I eventually shake myself from my thoughts and make my way over to the bleachers. My parents and Jason run over to me. Dad lifts me up in a big bear hug and my mother hugs and kisses me on both my cheeks. She's crying, or blubbering, more like. Jason crushes me in a hug and slaps me on the back.

"I'm proud of you, Bug!" he says, grinning widely. I may not have any friends, but I'll always have my brother. It was tough when he left for UCLA two years ago, but I totally get his need to leave this one cow town. He's on a football scholarship and doing really well. His coaches are impressed with his performance and if he keeps playing as well as he has been and avoids injury, then he could be playing pro in a year or two. I miss him, but like I said, I totally get it.

"Thanks, Jase," I say quietly.

"We're the proudest parents here," exclaims Dad. "Aren't we, Michelle? Our little Lady Bug, graduating from high school."

"Oh, that's really…" The flash on my mom's camera goes off in my eyes, momentarily blinding me. "Mom! Could you put that away, please," I beg.

"I just look at you, sweetheart, and you're my little girl. Bound for Harvard," Mom says, getting weepy.

"Lady Bug, we're so happy for you," Dad says, pulling me in for another hug. "Now, we know you have things to do, parties and all that. You've earned it – today is your day."

"Yeah, Bug, we got us some celebratin' to do!" says Jason, slinging his arm round my shoulders. "Hoyt, Jessica and I are headin' over to Merlotte's and we're treatin' ya."

"Jase, you don't have to–" I start.

"Nonsense, Bug. It's not every day my favorite sister graduates from high school," Jason said grinning.

"I'm your only sister," I say, smiling back.

"Even more of a reason to celebrate then," Jason says winking.

"Just don't get home too late," Mom warns, "Daddy and I have something for you."

"Oh, you guys… you didn't have to do that."

"I know. But guess what? We did!" Dad says, laughing. "So, we'll leave you guys to it. Jason, don't get your sister too drunk now, you hear."

"Yes, sir," Jason says, mock saluting our dad.

With a final hug from both my parents, they finally leave. Jason turns to me, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Right, Bug. I'm gonna go over there and say hi to Dawn and then I'm gonna go find Hoyt and Jessica. You finish up with whatever it is you need to do and meet us at the car in like ten minutes. How's that sound?"

Jason's face looked so happy and hopeful, that I really didn't have the heart to tell him that the last thing I wanted to do was go to Merlotte's. My brother held no illusions in regards to my social life, or more to the point, the fact that I didn't have one. I think it really bothered him that I didn't have any friends, but he loved me too much to ever say anything.

I just nod and smile weakly. "OK, Jase, I'll meet you at the car in ten."

Jason smiles then wanders off in search of Hoyt and Jessica. I start crossing the lawn toward the parking lot when I spot Eric across the field. He's clearly having an argument with his father. His mother is nowhere to be seen.

I'll let you guys in on a little secret. Four years ago, I was locked in a closet with Eric Northman for seven minutes. As far as my thirteen-year-old-self was concerned, it was absolute heaven. He gave me my first kiss. My only kiss, to date. The following Monday, I saw him walking down the hall with a bunch of his football buddies. When he passed my locker, I turned around and smiled my brightest smile. I said: "Hi, Eric!" but he just walked past me like I didn't even exist.

It was my first lesson in heartbreak.

I watch as Eric's dad stomps off toward the parking lot. Eric runs his hands agitatedly through his blond hair. Did I mention how beautiful he is? He looks in my direction and I quickly look down. I now notice that I'm holding my yearbook. I scan the area. There's no one around. Now is the time. I don't think. I just move.

And I do – across the lawn – to Eric, who spiritlessly watches his dad walk away.

You know, Gran, it's funny… sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can pretty much change your life…

I finally reach him.

"Um… excuse me?"

Eric turns to me, clearly still distracted by his intense encounter with his dad.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Susannah Stackhouse–"

"I know," he smiles as he extends his hand. "Eric. Northman."

I tentatively take hold of his hand and shake it. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm at first contact and I swear I swoon, just a little bit. Something flashes in his ice blue eyes, but it's gone in an instant.

This is the closest we've been since that night four years ago. He's even more beautiful than I remembered. At 6'4", he's impossibly tall beside my 5'5" frame. His shaggy blond hair gleams in the sunlight and flops forward adorably onto his forehead. His mouth twitches into a slight smirk and I'm mesmerized. I stare at his lips. Those soft plump lips that were pressed against mine for seven whole minutes. Does he remember me? Does he remember that kiss? I take an involuntary step closer and am assaulted by his scent – citrus and sandalwood and sweaty boy. Heaven. It smells like heaven to me.

"Hey, great speech by the way," he says, pulling his hand from mine and pulling me out of my thoughts. "I really got where you were coming from."

"Ah… thanks," I say shyly. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I look down at my hands gripping my yearbook. "I'm just glad I didn't sound dumb."

"No way," Eric says, shaking his head. "It was really cool. The way you admitted how scared you were. That was really… cool of you."

I look up to see if he was teasing me and find that he looks serious and a bit contemplative.

"Hey," I say, holding out my yearbook. "I was, um… well, I was hoping that you could maybe… you know. Do it– I mean, sign this. Book." I groan internally at how much of a loser I am.

He smirks. "Oh, yeah, sure – but I don't have mine with me–"

"That's okay, God. Here," I say, pulling a pen out of my purse. It's gold and has my initials engraved on the side. It was a sixteenth birthday gift from Gran. "Here's my pen."

Our eyes lock for what feels like hours. In those few moments, I feel like he's taken a total inventory of my soul. Like he's unearth all of my deep, dark secrets. Then he looks away and opens up the yearbook to find a place to sign – which is basically on any page.

"I just got it… today. I just got the yearbook today. So… I didn't have time to… ask anyone." He finds a page to write on. "Except for Mrs. Robinson-Bellefleur. She's here today, somewhere, which I was totally surprised by, considering she's about nine months pregnant and looks fit to burst…" I ramble on nervously. I can't seem to make myself stop talking.

Eric begins writing and I finally release the breath I was holding. And then just when I'm expecting him to hand it back to me, he sits – right there, on the fifty yard line.

He looks up. "Hey, could you, ah… give me just… you know. One minute?"

I nod dumbly. "Uh… yeah. I'll… sure." I'm not really sure what to make of all this. I circle him awkwardly and watch as other students begin to filter off the field. Most of these people I've 'known' practically my whole life and I'll probably not see any of them ever again. Eventually I start to give myself a headache with all of this pointless pacing, so I make myself stop.

I look down at Eric and he's still writing. Finally, I sit down in front of him. His face is scrunched up in concentration and I can't help but smile. Did I mention how beautiful he is?

Finally, he finishes. He signs his name and hands the book back to me.

"Thanks for asking," he says with a smile.

I laugh a bit at that. "So… well, good luck," I say, wanting to prolong our encounter.

"Thanks. You too." We just stare at one another. A beat passes. And then another. "So… uh, well… I guess I'll see ya," he says.

"Yeah," I say and for a moment I feel the most agonizing pain in my heart. The thought of never seeing him again just about breaks me.

Eric stands up, brushes off his robe and heads off. Sitting there, I quickly open my yearbook. I find his page and read.

This is what Eric Northman wrote to me:

Dear Susannah,

So here goes. You may not remember this, but you and I kissed once. We were locked in Franklin Mott's closet for seven minutes. You were shy and cute and when my lips touched yours, you trembled like a new blown rose. I could tell you'd never been kissed before. It both thrilled me and scared me shitless. And then I was a dick to you at school and we never talked again.

But the thing is. I've like, watched you – for four years. And I always wondered what you were like... what was going on in your mind all the time that you were so quiet, with your head in a book or silently watching everyone from your seat under the willow tree. I should have just asked you, but I never did.

So now, four years later, I don't even know you, but I admire you.

Well, this might make me sound crazy, but I'm okay with that. So take care of yourself.

Love, Eric

P.S. I would have said "keep in touch", but unfortunately we never were in touch.

I feel the blood rush to my face. I'm shocked and surprised and paralyzed – and then I look up – he's far off, almost to the other side of the field. I struggle to my feet and trip on my robe a bit.

"Hey!"

At the end zone, Eric stops and turns toward me.

"Where are you going to college?" I shout.

"NYU. What about you?"

That was it. That was the moment… everything changed in that moment…

"I'm not really... sure, yet."

He shoots me the most amazing smile, then he waves sweetly before disappearing into the crowd at the other side of the field. I cover my mouth to hold back the joyous scream that's threatening to spill out.

And, Gran, suddenly I knew. I knew what everyone was feeling…