It's Monday morning and instead of occupying myself with pre-reading excerpts from today's sociology elective class, I am fussing over my outfit. It's a big outfit day after all. My lunch date with Shawn is only something I've been dreaming of since the sixth grade!

I finally settle on a powder blue sweater and black jeans. I second-guess my choice all through morning classes, but once the last morning block ends, I have no choice but to meet up with Shawn at the SAC caf

The Glitter Girls have set up shop in the lobby on the first floor of the SAC. I can see them down the stairs from the table I'm at in the cafeteria. They're at a booth advertising fundraising for dance entertainment. Allow me to backpedal.

The Glitter Girls (as they call themselves and so started everyone else) are the IT girls. Everything is glittery –their phone cases –their laptops –their bags. Probably their lady parts. It's unbelievable, like exhaling glitter dust is both a requirement and a side effect of hanging out with them.

They happen to be heavily involved in the student social scene on campus. They run multiple charities and committees for community service, social fundraisers, events, etc. Yes, they are in charge of orchestrating the fundraising for the Sweetheart Single dance. Yes, they are in charge of distributing the grams via their wide social network of little minions hoping to be called up to the big leagues and branded with the highly coveted Glitter Girl status.

It's not that they are trash humans. I quite like Olivia, the red head. We had Intro to Psych together last semester. We helped each other improve our note outlines. Amanda, the brunette, isn't too bad either, though she's the most high maintenance. Then there's Brittany, the blonde, the leader of the Glitter Girls. She's stone cold and doesn't care who knows it. She also happens to be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in real life, which is probably part of the reason all men seem to flock in her direction.

It's Brittany that I see now. Her long blonde waves are flying around her head as she moves between the other girls and walks up to each new person that enters the SAC. No doubt she's trying to bleed everyone of their pocket change and petty cash. I get it. If Brittany wants the Sweetheart Single to be the dance of the decade, then that's exactly what it will be.

She got me when I walked in. I only had $2 to spare, but who was I to say no? I was distracted by her glittery gold eye shadow blinding me in the daylight. This particular fundraiser is for getting a band to play the dance. Not just a band, a boy band. Long live the 90s.

Everyone is hype about it. Supposedly they are pretty big internationally, and all the girls are already planning ways to make the lead singer fall in love with them. Me? I don't really have time for bands. Even if they have a catchy name like Gilded Rage.

So here I am sitting in the SAC waiting for Shawn to show for our lunch date. Nikki and Lucy and Darren all wished me good luck. I spent most of morning Lit class worried about meeting with Shawn –worried about what I would say –what he would say. I blot my lips with glossy pink just to give my hands something to do.

My stomach tumbles over when I see him walk into the lobby. His hair is cropped short, and his jeans are perfect denim blue. He really is a vision. I can't help the butterflies swarming when he looks over and his eyes catch mine.

"Hi Ellie," he says, tossing his gym bag down at my table.

"Hey," I mumble.

"Ready to get in line?" He asks. "What are you thinking for lunch?"

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm starving." I stand up, noticing once again how tiny and small I feel beside his large frame.

"Yea?" He asks. "If you've been living off salads, then I'm not surprised." Shawn laughs, nudging my shoulder. I know he's thinking about our roadie lunch on the way back from break.

"Actually, I skipped breakfast." I'm not going to admit it's because I was too busy selecting an outfit for this very lunch.

"In that case, I have the perfect idea. Come on," Shawn says. He moves his hand slight towards mine, and for a moment I think he might hold it. After he lets it drop, I realize he was just pointing in the direction of the breakfast bar.

We stop right in front of the cafeteria's breakfast bar. And there is nothing continental about it. There's a lopsided tower of fresh and fluffy pancakes, a stack of thick-cut French toast, and three completely available waffle-irons. Bowls of berries and mini butters litter the tabletop. Large sticky vats of syrups are lined up on the side.

"Breakfast for lunch?" I ask, laughing.

"You in?" Shawn asks.

"Sounds perfect. Let's do it." I take the plate Shawn holds out.

We stack our plates with a little bit of everything –Shawn takes the cream cheese French toast and a few waffles with whipped cream. He also takes the sausage, bacon, and scrambled eggs for good measure. I pile waffles onto my own plate, coating them with syrup, whipped cream, and strawberries. The sweet aroma is intoxicating, but I'm not sure it's the waffles. Beneath all the bacon grease and confection sugar, I catch a whiff of Shawn's musky cologne.

Focus, Elle.

We reach the table in no time and I'm well aware of the looks I get while sitting down across from Shawn. People actually know his name –him being a popular athlete and all. I see some girls' curious stares linger a bit too long.

"This looks amazing," Shawn says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yea, it does." I nod in agreement and my stomach rumbles at the sight of my plate.

"I love having breakfast for lunch. Breakfast for dinner too." Shawn stabs a fluffy pancake square on top of a sausage slice.

"That is something I didn't know about you," I say, taking a gulp of orange juice.

"See? There are still some things shrouded in secret." He laughs.

"Apparently so," I say, spearing a strawberry onto my fork.

"What d'ya mean?" Shawn asks, talking as he's finishing up his mouthful.

"Just–" Be cool, Elle. I shake my head nonchalantly. "I'm still just surprised you wanted to have lunch with me. That's all."

I don't mention anything about the invitation gram. In part, I'm too embarrassed to start that conversation. Mostly, I'm still convinced it was a joke. I give the waffle stack on my plate my undivided attention.

"Nothing surprising about it." Shawn dispels my concern away with his free hand. So casually cool. "I like being around you. It's –relaxing."

"Relaxing?" I laugh through my waffle. If he only knew how unrelaxed I am around him... "How do you mean?"

"It's calming to have someone to talk to," he says, like it's an obvious understanding.

"You have everyone to talk to," I remind him. "It may have escaped your notice, but you're like –a big time jock. Elite popular status."

"Ya think?" His eyes crease in a smile. I focus on the crisp bacon wedged between his thumb and pointer.

"Please." I scoff.

"Sometimes it's nice not talking to everyone," he says, shrugging. "Talking to you is easy, like being at home."

"Relaxing." I nod. Does Shawn only like talking to me since I feel like home?

"Exactly."

Shawn drops his fork and knife onto the edge of his plate and stretches back in the booth. The giggling girls continue to ogle in our direction. So, Shawn dislikes the limelight? I'm finding it a tad hard to believe. Afterall, this is coming from the starting quarter back and homecoming king at our high school. Limelight is his best light.

"Are you finished?" Shawn asks.

"Um," I look down at my barely touched plate. "Yes. Want the rest? I'd hate to waste it."

"Nah, I'm full."

Shawn's hands inch toward mine. He pulls the edge of my plate across the Formica tabletop until it clanks lightly against his. He starts shuffling my waffles onto his plate, berries and all.

"What are you doing?" I ask, eyebrow arched.

"Just making a little art," Shawn says. "So, it's not entirely wasted."

"You are such a weirdo!" I laugh. I pull my copy of Pride and Prejudice out of the way just in time as whipped cream spills over the plate. "It doesn't look sound."

"Hmm." Shawn surveys the lopsided waffle tower. He wedges a few more strawberry slices into the middle and throws some chocolate chips on top. "There."

"Not very pretty," I say, biting my lip to hide my smile.

"No. But it's got character. Pizazz." Shawn nods.

"Pizazz. If you say so."

"I'm a man of many talents. Or do you forget my elementary school cereal sculpture? First prize." Shawn grins.

"HA! Oh my, I totally did forget about that." I laugh.

"I'm hurt. That was some of my finest work," Shawn says.

"Right. Before you became the mega popular college star." I add.

"Really hung up on that, aren't you?" Shawn asks, frowning.

"No." I blurt too quickly. I can practically feel my cheeks flush.

"Good. Because I want a second lunch, Ellie."

I am sure my cheeks are as rosy as the strawberry syrup left on my plate. My eyes fall to the leaning waffle tower that's precariously constructed on the edge of Shawn's plate.

"What's all this?"

"Whatcha doing here?"

I feel two people stop in front of our table, but I'm almost afraid to look up. I steal a glance at Shawn just in time to see see a broad smile spread across his face.

"Just making edible art with Elle," Shawn answers.

I look up when he says my name and I see two extremely tall and handsome sophomores staring at me, bewildered. I get it. I too am bewildered by this entire lunch date. The waffle tower. Shawn. Me. Us.

Oh, if my mom could only see me now.

"I see that." The first one, whose name I think is Andre, shakes his head, eyes wide.

"Since when are you an artist too?" Joe (the other one) asks.

Shawn merely shrugs, still lounging back in his seat. I can't help but notice he looks decently relaxed to me. I also can't help but notice the adoration on Andre's and Joe's face.

"So, you must be Elle?" Andre asks, examining me interestedly. No doubt he's perplexed by my ordinariness. At least I wore a cute sweater today.

"I am."

"Ah, so you're the one he keeps texting?" Joe smirks.

"Well, I hope she is. Or you just blew it," Andre laughs.

"That's her." Shawn's smile is unwavering.

Yup. I'm definitely a violent shade of scarlet.

"Oi, hey!" Someone shouts from the bottom of the stairs, looking up at us. "Shawn? Andre? That you guys?"

"Who's that?" I find myself asking, unsurprised that people can spot Shawn across a crowded cafeteria.

"That'd be Gerry." Joe answers. He leans over the railing next to our table. "Yo, what's up?"

"Cram lifting session before afternoon block. Coach wants us in 10." Gerry delivers his news and is already heading back outside, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

"Ah, there goes my afternoon off..." Joe wines.

"Come on, man." Andre is already backing away. "Nice to meet you, Elle."

"Yea. We'll see you at lunch sometime, Elle." Joe shouts across the hall.

"Okay. Bye." I smile feebly, waving as they race down the stairs.

Shawn clears his throat and I almost forgot he was sitting there –forgot he also needs to get to the lifting session.

"Well, well. Now who's popular?" Shawn's eyes glint under the fluorescent lights.

"Stop." I laugh, feeling myself blush.

I'm already stowing P&P safely into my bag by the time Shawn stands up. I follow suit, grabbing my puffer jacket off the back of the booth.

"I need to run too. Can't lift in these jeans." Shawn looks down at his lunch outfit.

"Nope." I shake my head. "You can't."

"Hey, maybe you can join me some time," he says.

"Join you?" I laugh. "At the gym?"

"The other jocks will allow it," Shawn grins. "Maybe give the library a break for a change."

"Ha-ha," I fake laugh. "We'll see. No promises."

Me, in a gym? I can't even imagine! But it doesn't stop me from picturing me and Shawn all sweaty...

"This was–" Shawn begins, looking down at our table.

"Relaxing?" I interject, smirking.

"Exactly." Shawn grins. "And I'd like to relax again one day this week."

I think about writing my essay, about getting a jumpstart on next week's work, and (for some reason) about the anonymous condom gram. I look up at Shawn, so close to me, so familiar, so Shawn.

"If that's cool with you, Ellie?" He breaks my attention.

I'm aware we are standing mere feet apart, in front of a decadent waffle display, in front of half the student body eating lunch right now. Somewhere, Nikki is rolling over with pride.

"I'd like that too."