A/N: In response to both softbalchick181 and Reeny, I'm really sorry I seem to have gotten everyone's hopes up, but I live overseas so cartoon network played the 1st and 2nd season of X-men Evolution repetitively, took X-men off the air for a few months, and is just now playing the 3rd season.

I'm not quite sure when this story takes place; it's most likely right before the Mutant Exposure, so the fic will probably lead a bit into that. Jean is still with Duncan (gag) and I suppose Scott is still with Taryn.

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"I do not have time for this!" Jean moaned between clenched teeth, banging furiously on her locker.

"Whoa, Jean, easy on the school property," the soothing, self-assured voice of Scott Summers filtered in through her rage. "Bad day?"

"That would be an understatement of major proportions."

Scott cocked his head to the side, his bangs falling over his face in a way that Jean found both adorable and maddening, raising his eyebrows in question.

Jean shook her head in frustration, "I was late for English because I had to explain to Coach Byrnes why I can't make it to practice today, I bombed my Calc. pop quiz, am now," she glanced at her watch, "seven minutes late to my NHS meeting, and my locker won't open. It's not funny!"

"I never said it was!" Scott raised his hands in a defeated gesture, laughter dancing in his shaded eyes, an amused smile creeping across his lips. He nodded towards her now slightly dented locker, "Would you like some help with that?"

Jean glared at him, hands placed firmly on her hips, "If I couldn't open my own locker, what makes you so sure that you can?"

He sighed, shaking his head, "What's the combo?"

"What do I have to lose?" Jean muttered, just barely loud enough for Scott to hear, "34-26-13."

Scott deftly spun the dial, the locker cool beneath his fingers, his face narrowed in concentration. Jean loved the determined expression that graced Scott's face each time he concentrated, the intensity of his gaze that suggested he'd blocked out all surrounding distractions – the idea that it was just him and his mind. "There," he smiled smugly as the locker swung open.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Jean stammered, stepping forward to remove her books from her locker, ashamed at having been caught staring at him.

"I've got to go take Kitty and Kurt home, but I've got track practice in about half an hour, do you need a ride after your meeting?"

"Thanks, that sounds-" Jean's voice faltered as she caught sight of sun-bleached blonde hair moving towards her, 'Duncan,' she thought dully, "Um, actually, I don't know, Duncan might give me a ride." Heat flushed her cheeks as she remembered her boyfriend. 'Why am I blushing? I always talk to Scott about Duncan, so why do I suddenly feel so guilty?'

"Oh, right," Scott's smile fell, replaced by one much more forced. "Well, if you can't get a ride, JV practices first so I'll be here 'till five.

"Right, thanks," she glanced at her watch again, "Well, I'd better be going, thanks for your help."

"Anytime," he smiled as she turned down the hall, throwing him a cautious, unsure smile over her shoulder.

"Hey, beautiful," Jean flinched inwardly as Duncan carelessly threw his heavy arm over her shoulder. She glanced behind her, catching sight of the disapproving frown gracing Scott's visage before he turned on his heel, striding towards the parking lot, sending a guilt-stricken pang to Jean's heart.

"Hey, Duncan, I'm really late for an NHS meeting, I've got to go." She ducked out from beneath his arm, half-running down the hall before he could protest; leaving her to wonder just what had possessed her lately.

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In spite of self vows not to let Bayville's star quarterback bother him, the frown was still plastered on Scott's face as he approached his car two minutes later.

"Vell, it's about time!"

"Yeah, like that totally didn't take long."

Scott stepped into his car, turning the key in the ignition, oblivious to the vexed glares and incensed comments streaming from the younger X-men. Pulling back on the gear shift, Scott impulsively stepped on the gas, sending his trendy convertible lurching backwards.

"Scott!" Kitty squealed, gripping the head seat in front of her.

"Sorry," he muttered, shifting smoothly out of his parking spot and into the right lane.

"Vell, I'd say somevone's a bit preoccupied," Kurt raised his eyebrows, nodding suggestively towards Scott.

"And I'd say that that is an understatement," Kitty snorted.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Scott caught sight of the two teens staring bluntly at him. "What?" he questioned bewilderedly, "Sorry, did I miss something?"

Kitty and Kurt exchanged glances before grabbing onto the sides of the car for support, their sides aching as they fell into peals of laughter.

"What?" Scott questioned again, oblivious to the source of their mirth, "What's so funny?"

"Not too preoccupied, are ve, Scott?"

"Yeah," Kitty gasped between giggles, ""What were you thinking about anyways?"

"Oh, I could think of something, or should I say someone?" Kurt teased, causing Scott's cheeks to burn and sending Kitty into a fresh wave of laughter.

"All right, you've had your fun," Scott spoke in what he hoped was a lighthearted tone, "Now lay off."

"So, what's up with you and Jean anyway?" Kitty questioned curiously, ignoring his warning as she repositioned her backpack between her feet.

"Nothing," Scott blurted quickly, "We're just friends . . . like we've always been." He added quietly, his trademark stoic expression shielding his emotions.

Kitty opened her mouth to speak again, but Kurt nudged her sharply in the side, silently shaking his head. Leaning across Kitty, Kurt switched on the radio in hopes of lightening the mood, yet Scott remained quiet, sulking beneath his impassive demeanor.

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By half past four, Jean had reduced herself to impatiently drumming her fingers on the polished desktop, staring blankly out the window, and doodling meaningless pictures along the margins of her notebook. She knew that mention of National Honors Society on her resume would appeal to most colleges, but she yearned for the chance to stretch her muscles on the soccer field. She lived for the adrenaline a soccer game seemed to provide, the thrill of racing up and down the field with the ball in control. Heaving a heavy sigh, Jean's eyes trailed to the window, instantly searching out the soccer players – her teammates – amongst the teeming crowd of dedicated athletes. Her teammates jumped and cheered as Sandy made a high assist across the field, leaving Taryn to head the ball into the goal. Jean could feel her muscles screaming for action as Taryn cart wheeled across the field in celebration.

Trying to rid herself of the cramped feeling in her muscles, Jean shook her head, sending a rippling veil of lustrous hair cascading down her back. Studying the crisp sheet of notebook paper she'd been taking notes on earlier, Jean's fingers itched to feel the grip of a pen between them. Sketching lightly, a rough profile began to etch its way onto her paper; a strong chin, straight nose, and a less than prominent forehead crept out from beneath her pen, followed by long, shaggy bangs and lips quirked into a smile. Her hand flew as if it had a mind of its own, adding adjustments along the cheek, creases to the forehead, and laugh lines around the lips, but, oddly enough, her pen steered clear of the middle of the face, perfecting every aspect of the nose, cheeks, forehead, and lips, but never adding a singly stroke to represent the eyes.

"Jean, Jean!" The rapt voice called Jean to attention, jolting her from her artistic reverie.

Jean looked up, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the NHS president, Rachel, eyed her curiously. "Sorry," Jean smiled apologetically, "It's been a long day, I guess I just . . . spaced out."

Rachel nodded in understanding, "Yeah, it's been a tough year; you've got to stop working yourself so hard. You're going to burn yourself out before you even begin to study for exams."

"Thanks, Rachel, I'll keep that in mind." Jean smiled gratefully as Rachel nodded, following the rest of the crowd out of the room. Shuffling her papers back into her binder, jean caught sight of the sketch she'd drawn beneath her notes. A familiar face, void of eyes, smiled back at her. The face looked so familiar, Jean felt as though she should know the boy. Before she could pin down the face in her memory, a light thumping from the other side of the classroom window drew her attention away from the drawing.

The bare-chested boys' varsity track team sprinted past the window, sweating profusely as they each tried to show-up the others in their last minute of practice. Jean watched, transfixed, as well-sculpted boys ranging from immeasurably fast freshmen to determined seniors ran past, no sparing a glance to the classroom window. A flash of crimson sparked in the corner of Jean's eye. Turning her head, Jean's heart gave a pleasant jolt as Scott ran past the window, his cheeks flushed from exertion, hair matted to his head with sweat as he past several other runners, pulling himself to the lead of the pack. A slight smile curled involuntarily at the corner of Jean's lips as she gazed down at her sketch, and with one last glance out the window, she slowly began to draw in a pair of shades.

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