"Hi," Jeff greeted politely, extending his hand for a handshake. She turned to look at the jock that sat next to her in english class. She nodded and turned her attention back to the teacher who was blabbering something about how high school students don't know where to use punctuation. "You don't like to talk?"

"Shut up," she demanded fiercely. "You never talk to me." He smiled at her, as she shot him a look.

"So it's a crime that I do it now?" Jeff asked, bending over so that she can hear him whisper. She turned to look at him, then back to the piece of paper she was writing on. "Whatcha doing?"

"Can you just mind your own business?" Eve asked him, with a serious look on her face. She grunted and returned to her work.

"Whatever," Jeff mumbled before sitting back in his chair, slumping down a bit.

"I'm coming!" the old lady yelled after the third knock sounded the door. She opened it to see a blonde man standing before her.

"Hi, miss," he greeted. The old lady smiled and nodded.

"I think you've got the wrong house here," she said, knowing that her granddaughter's only friend is Mindy. She nor her husband has 16 year-old friends.

"No, I got the right house," he said, smiling. "Eve Mitchell does live here, correct?"

"Yes, and you are?" she asked, getting excited that Eve had finally made some new friends. She was always thrilled when they would come over and hang out. Eve always has a good time when her friends are over.

"Jeffrey Hardy, ma'am," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. The old lady put her hand in his. He shook it gently, letting it go. "I'm a sophmore from school... 16 years old. I have four classes with her." The old lady smiled at his politeness. She doesn't always see polite 16 year olds.

"I'm Eve's grandmother," she said. "You can call me Anne, my name, or Grams." She smiled, as he nodded, smiling back. "Well, come in," she offered, opening the door wider than before so he can come in.

"Thank you," he said, not knowing whether he should call her Anne or Grams.

"Kitchen is right over there. She's in there," she said, pointing to the left. He nodded as she turned around and went into the hallway. He rolled his eyes. He wasn't too fond of other old ladies besides his grandmother.

He fixed his thick football jacket, walking across the living room. There was a bowl full of candy on the coffee table that sat in front of the television. He looked around, making sure no one was spying on him and picked up a kiss, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth, chewing it up.

He walked into the kitchen, seeing Eve humming to herself while she was cooking. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest, and one leg over the other. She was, of course, wearing all black except the white apron. Her long hair was pulled up and tied into a bun.

He wanted to get all of this over with...all he need to do was sleep with her, and he'd get the money. Real simple. Besides the fact that she hates his guts and can beat the shit out of him anytime, anywhere, he can do it and get the money. He had seen her in fights, and boy, no one dares to mess with her unless you want to grow up with no front teeth and a broken nose. He knew she wasn't his type. He hated wiccan people and anyone who is not in sports. Of course, she wasn't in sports.

Noticing what song she was humming, he hummed along. She abruptly turned around to see who it was. No one lived in the house that had the voice of a 16 year old boy. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked.

"Goodness, not glad to see me?" Jeff asked, getting up from the wall.

"No, I hate your guts," she simply said, turning off the stove so that the food won't over burn. He smiled.

"No, you don't," he said, smiling, stepping up closer to her.

"Yes, I do Jeff," she said. "You want me to show you." She raised an eyebrow. He was not just a few feet away, but he kept his distance, knowing how strong and tough this girl was.

"Okay, fine, maybe you do hate me, but why do you hate jocks so much?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest, studying her.

"Because you guys are jocks. Plain and simple." He laughed at her, but she had a serious look on her face, like always.

"Hey, I have a football game today. You wanna come?" he asked. She stared at him, but also wondering why he wanted to ask her.

"Are you kidding me? I hate going out in public," she simply replied. "What is up with this anyway? You're talking to me. You hate me. You never talk to me. In fifth grade, you always made fun of me." He smiled, remembering how rude he was to her in the fifth grade.

"That was then and this is now, babe," he said, smiling. She shivered when he called her babe. No one called her babe... that was the first time. "So, you want to go to the football game or not?" She sighed.

"No, I don't want to go," she said, turning around and turning on the stove.

"Please?" he asked, stepping up to her. He was now standing by her, in front of the stove. He did his puppy dog face.

"No," she replied.

"If you go, I promise that I'll never come over to your house, ever again," he said. She sighed. That was a good idea, even though she hated bribery. He did his puppy dog face.

"How about this? I'll go if you stop doing your puppy dog face," she said. He laughed and nodded his head. "Thank you. You were freaking me out with that look." He laughed at her.

"Are you gonna just wear that?" he asked, looking at her clothing. She nodded, shrugging. She took off her apron, hanging it on the hook. He shrugged. He didn't care about her or how she looked... just as long as she trusts him enough will be fine for him.