Note: This is not a Skyeffrey story. It's a view into-what I consider-Skye's love life before Skyeffrey wins out. No, I have not gone mad, I'm just trying to mix things up a bit... :-)

I can't believe I'm doing this, rang the voice inside her head, even as she stared at the plastic in her hand. I CANNOT BELIEVE that I am doing this! UGH!

One week earlier…

She was late. Again.

Living in the city for the first time in her life—even if it was only a smallish city like Boston—had messed up her entire time table. Who knew traffic could occupy an entire 2-hour time slot?!

And so, when she finally gave up on the taxi, and decided to get out and walk the remaining mile in the sub-zero frigidness, the last thing she was in the mood for was harassment.

And when harassment came in the form of 30 guys whistling as she scurried by, it was enough to stop her in her tracks, ready for battle.

"Hey, girl. Whatsup?" commented a particularly forward blonde member of the cat-call-colony.

Skye just stood there, glaring.

"Yeah, what's a hot chick like you doing all alone on the icy streets of Boston?"

"Apparently being ogled at." Those would have been the first words out of her mouth, and—for a second—she wondered if her voice had suddenly deepened by several octaves, before turning around and realizing that someone else had said them first.

The intruder flashed an apologetic smile at her, before turning back to the mob. "Back off, guys. Seriously. Or I'll tell Cynthia."

Whoever Cynthia was, Skye was immensely grateful to her at the moment, because apparently just the mention of her name was enough to call off the dogs, who—quite reluctantly—left.

"Thanks." She grumbled reluctantly to her "rescuer," before turning to walk off.

When his remark, "You don't sound very thankful," followed after her, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah, well, I'm not a huge fan of the 'Sir Gallahad' bit."

"Sir Gallahad, nothing. It just looked to me like you were about kill them, and I reserved the right to commit that crime years ago."

"Oh, really?" For the first time, she spared him more than a passing glance, and hated herself wishing that she had done so earlier. He was very…aesthetically pleasing. Very.

"Yeah. That's just part of being a team, right?" She couldn't help but grin back. Oh, how mad she had been when she found out that both her and Melissa were on the varsity team.

"Yeah, seriously. What team do you play for?" She didn't even care that she was late for her anthropology class anymore. This was far more interesting.

"Boston College."

"Ah, the Eagles."

"You know us?"

"Not really. I went to one of your games last year."

"Which one?"

"The one where you got royally beaten: Five to nothing, I think it was."

"Ah. That one." He grimaced, and she couldn't help but laugh a bit. "You should come to another. We're usually much better."

"Maybe I will."

"I'm Matt, by the way."

"I'm Skye." And glancing up a the clock tower which had just begun to announce the time, she added: "And I'm terribly late. I really should run. Thanks, by the way."

"I'll run with you. I'm not in a big hurry to be interrogated about you."

"Are you sure?"

"About being interrogated? Yeah, I'm sure."

"No, about running with me."

"Yeah, I'm pretty darn sure about that, too."

(To be continued...)

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