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realize that's what I do."
    "You do it all the time, well from what I can tell."
    "Are you saying you observe me a lot?" Always the big flirt.
    I guffaw and roll my eyes.
    "Why is it that you think every woman is attracted to you? You're trying to manipulate me even now."
    "Actually, I thought we were flirting, but if that is your definition of manipulation, then I don't know what to do with you. You know, you can be quite frustrating." He sips his coffee and raises his eyebrows, watching my every move.
    I ponder the statement , and it bothers me that he can knock me off track so easily, because in a way, he is right.
    "You keep pushing me away , and I can't figure out why. I don't think all women are attracted to me, but I know you are."
    I pick my pencil back up and try not to look at him. I don't like this. I can feel my face heating with blush , and I already don’t like how frequently it is happening now. Without looking at him, I respond with, "That's unfair."
    "Alex, look at me." I can hear a smile in his statement, and with my name on his lips, I reluctantly look at him. "How come you can be bluntly honest, sometimes almost hurtful, to me, but I can't be as honest with you? A taste of your own medicine doesn't seem to sit well with you."
    I bite at my lip, pouting because the comment makes me angry. Catching me off guard, he lifts his hand to my chin, pulling my lip from my teeth.
    "Don't do that. This isn't going as I had planned. If I have to leave here without a date, and the last image I have is of you chewing that lip, I might go nuts."
    My mouth hangs open after he lets go of my chin. His skins second encounter with mine leaves a wonderful tingling sensation. My anger dissipates, and an odd sense of desire replaces it. How can he say something like that to me? I'm shocked and even more embarrassed than I was before. He looks at me with a smile playing upon his lips, as if proud of himself. Great.
    "Why are you doing this to me?"
    He bites back his smug look. "Doing what?"
    "Playing with me?"
    I'm frustrated with my reaction to him. I can't seem to keep my hormones in check, and the need to shoot off a few rounds to blow off steam and regain some control sounds like the best plan of action.
    You've got some serious issues, Agent Turner.
    He sighs as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit over my body, causing every muscle in my core to tense.
    "Alex, you've given me no choice. You play with me just the same. You answer everything I ask with another question. You've made me out to be the bad guy , and I don't know how to shake that. I understand I overstepped my boundaries when we first met and I apologized for that. Yet, I suspect you haven't forgiven me for it. I'm trying to flirt with you. I know you love a good argument, hence the only type of relationship we've managed to have. It began the moment I met you. So, whatever I'm doing to you, I'm sorry." He exhales as if he had been holding his breath. "I can only assume it’s a habit of your environment." He gestures toward all my textbooks. There is a brief pause, and as if he can't help it or it just popped into his head, he asks, "Has Marcus been in touch?" Ouch, topic change.
    I block my guilt over Marcus from surfacing, and stifle my annoyance that he hasn't given me an opportunity to tackle his list of comments, complaints, and inquiries. It’s overwhelming.
    "No , he hasn't."
    I try to muster an excuse , because he can't know the truth about why this all has to be this way. I decide to apologize for everything, and hopefully he will take it for what it is and leave, because my psyche, job, and hormones can't take much more of this.
    "I'm sorry about everything. The attitude and all. I'm on edge. I have this big test on Tuesday, and my whole life hinges on it. So, I have a lot on my mind. Also, you happen to be a distraction to my already chaotic life."
    OK , good. It is kind of the truth. We don't need to talk about Marcus Gibbs, right?
    "A good