I rest my head against the door frame and gaze out the open window. It's such a beautiful day outside today. It's hot and it's humid but for as fast as he's driving down the hallway, it's not at all uncomfortable. His speed makes the wind blow hard into the window and my hair is flying all over the place in the breeze. It's really pretty out here too. There's nothing but endless road in front of us as we're driving down a highway but there are bright, striking green trees lining the sides of the road and it's quiet because there are no trucks on this highway. It's just a line of cars so far in front of us that we can't catch up, so essentially, it's just us out here driving along the road. It's quiet in the car because as usual, the two of us aren't speaking to one another and just like yesterday, his eyes are completely fixated on the road in front of him and he looks extremely focused. Unlike yesterday though, he actually put a CD in the player. It's not turned up and it's so low that I have to hold my breath to hear what song is playing, but it's still nice to just have a little bit of background noise. I take a deep breath full of the fresh air coming through my window then look down at the French fry container I'm holding in my lap. I pluck two fries from the container and stuff them in my mouth.

We stopped at McDonald's for lunch before we got on the interstate because we're going to be driving for hours straight before we make it to the next hotel. I still have a little bit of fries leftover from my lunch and I'm not wasteful so I'm going to eat them until they're gone, even though I'm full. If I had bought the food with my own money I wouldn't mind throwing the rest of the fries out because then I'd be wasting my own money. But he bought me lunch and I refuse to waste his money. I'll be the first to admit that my first impression of him was totally and completely wrong. I mean, he totally comes off as a callous, shallow bastard but I've been getting to know him and really, he's not that bad. He's been feeding me and making sure I have somewhere to sleep every night and he's been really nice about everything so far. He hasn't been truly mean to me. I think the heartless personality is just an act and for some reason, he wants people to think that he's some big giant hard ass. He has feelings though. I've seen them. I don't know why he doesn't like for his feelings to be shown. I don't know why he has this guard up. I pick up two more fries and put them both in my mouth.

Not that I have any money to spend, but I really do wonder why he hasn't even asked me to pay for anything yet. He's been paying for everything without a thought so far. He doesn't even ask me to chip in on the bills. He just pays for the food and the hotel and he doesn't even ask me for a single red cent. I wonder why. At this point, I wouldn't say that the two of us are complete strangers anymore but it's not like we've been friends for years. It's not like we're close enough in friendship terms that it's acceptable for him to keep footing my bills. We're not that good of friends. Hell, I don't even know if we could be considered as friends, really. I think we're still at the point of being associates. I pick up the last two French fries in the container and eat them. I put the container in the middle of us, right next to the cup holders and look back out the window. I put my head back against the headrest and just stare at the world passing us by and just lose myself in my rapid thoughts.

I have so many questions I would like to ask him but he doesn't seem like he's very good with questions. Well first and foremost, I would like to know what the name he publishes under is. I just want to know if his stuff is any good and if it's worth reading. I don't think I'm going to get that out of him anytime soon though. I also want to know if there's a reason he decided to go to California when he did. I admit that it was pretty weird timing. His store just burned down and instead of sticking around to clean up the carnage or do insurance things regarding the store, he skipped town. What's his logic here? Is there any logic here? Or did he really just never give a damn about the store in the first place? From the corner of my eye, I watch his hand move and twist as he turns up the volume on the radio. He must like this song, whatever it is. He hasn't turned up the radio for the entire two hours we've been driving so far. I turn my head and gaze back out the window again. Off the side of the road, in a little clearing from the trees is a large, attention-catching sign. The sign is dark blue with a yellow sunflower in the corner of it. The words are white and it says, "Welcome to Kansas…The Sunflower State." It really didn't take long to get here at all. I wonder if we're going to be where we need to be soon. I don't think we will because he made it very clear that we're going to have to sleep in another hotel tonight. I turn my head and look at him. "What's in Kansas?" I ask. He doesn't do very well with questions but I don't think I asked something to horrible. He could answer that.

He flicks his turn signal on and gets out of the fast lane and into the slower lane. I think he needs to take an exit off the slow lane because that's the only reason I can imagine him having to get out of the fast lane and into the slow lane when he's a very fast driver anyway. "My…uh…family." The tone of his voice is nicer, softer today than it's been since I've ever had to associate with him. It is kind of crazy how I was working for him for six months before any of this happened and he's already been nicer in two days than he's been to me in the entire six months I was working for him. I'm trying to push the memories of him being a complete asshole towards me aside but it's kind of hard to just forget. The thing I remember most is how he laughed at me for crying when he fired me. He really can be disgusting. "My mom." He clarifies. He's going to visit his mom? That's sweet. "I just gotta run her some money…for my sister." He puts his turn signal on once again and takes an exit off the highway, just like I expected him to. "My sister's going to college in a couple months and she needs books." I didn't even ask him to elaborate on that, he did it on his own. Does this mean he actually wants to talk to me?

"That was nice of you." I tuck my hair behind my ears and turn in my seat to face him better. "So are you originally from Kansas then?" He mumbles "uh-uh" while shaking his head. "So did you just…move there or something?" I kick off my flip flops on the floor and sit with my legs crossed in the chair. Have I mentioned how nice his car is? Because it's really nice. I don't know what brand and model it is but it's a really nice car. It looks expensive as heck. "I guess I'm just asking how your mom ended up in Kansas but you ended up in Iowa…" I wince because I feel like he's going to yell at me for being so nosy. But to my surprise, he doesn't. He glances down at his gas gauge and keeps driving.

"My mom's from Kansas. Born and raised in Kansas but she moved to Iowa for art school after she graduated from high school. My dad was born and raised in Sioux City so that's how that goes. When they divorced, my mom just went back home. There was no reason for her to stay in Iowa anymore after they got divorced so she just didn't." I kind of like learning more about him. I guess he's just an interesting person because he interests me. And I'm surprised because he doesn't seem like it's something that's annoying him. He's just freely talking to me like it's the most natural thing in the world. "She didn't stay in art school. She got pregnant with me when she was 20 and she dropped out. They got a divorce when she was 30 so I guess she could've gone back if she really wanted to, but she just didn't."

"Well that's crappy." I really to empathize with him. I know divorce is never that easy on the children that are involved and really, divorces can screw a kid up pretty badly. If his parents got a divorce when his mom was 30 and his mom had him when she was 20, that would've made him ten years old when they divorced. That's rough. "You ever wish they stayed together? When you were younger, I mean. Did you ever just throw a hail Mary and pray that they'd stay together? Or did you not care?"

"Yeah." He nods but I don't know what he's saying yeah for. Yeah to which question? "When I was younger I wanted them to be together. Like all throughout middle school I wanted them to get back together. But when I got older, I just started to not care. Now that I'm older…" He glances over at me. "I kind of just realize that it was the right thing to do. I mean, I used to think that they could fix it if they wanted to. But they really couldn't have. And rather than just around and argue all the time, they just ended it. It was the right thing to do. They didn't really have any business being together anyway. She was 20 and he was 35 when they had me. That was a disaster in itself."

"They were just in different places of their lives." I look at his face while he's explaining this to me and I swear, I can see just a little hint of sadness in there somewhere. I'm not a psychologist, nor am I a mind reader, but I really think he just needs someone to talk to about this. Why else would he just start going on and on and on about how his parents divorced? He probably never had anyone to talk to about that before. I'll listen if he needs me to. I don't give very good advice but I'm a hell of a listener. "The love was probably there but they were just in different places, probably. I mean think about it… your mom probably just wanted to be a kid still because she was a kid when she had you and your dad was probably just ready to be a man about it…and they just clashed. I bet the love was there they just couldn't figure it out."

"I don't know about the love thing…but you're dead on about the different places thing." He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. "My mom just wasn't ready to be a mom at that point in her life." I can definitely see that he harbors some heavy feelings about his parents' divorce. I can see it in his eyes. "She wasn't a bad mom." He looks back at the road again. "She was just…selfish. She cared about me a hell of a lot, she loved me…she just wanted to be young. She still baked cookies and tucked me in bed and all that bullcrap. But if my dad wasn't home to watch me by a certain time so she could go out and party, that was an issue. She just didn't like being with me all the time. She felt like she was alone and stuff because my dad worked a lot to pay the bills. But he worked so she didn't have to work. He worked so she would just have to worry about school if she decided to go back."

"Your dad sounds like he's amazing. Seriously, where can I find me one? I'd love to just worry about my career while my man is working to make sure we have a place to live. Sounds amazing." He cracks a little smirk. "I'm so serious. Does your dad have a brother? Maybe a distant cousin? Tell him I'm single and I'll take him." Oddly enough, his dad has a son that's an asshole. A very, very, very attractive son, but an asshole son. It kind of makes me wonder though. If he was raised by his dad, did his dad instill some of that into him? Your parents really have the biggest influences on you, don't they? His dad had to have rubbed off on him. "Is your sister your dad's kid too? Or are you guys just half-siblings?"

"We're half. I was my dad's only child."

"…Was?" I raise my eyebrow at that.

"My dad's dead now…hence the reason that the store belonged to me and not him."

"The store was his?"

"Where else did you think the name 'Jimmy's' came from?" He asks. "James Evans…everybody called him Jimmy though." Okay, I admit that it makes sense. If his dad's name was Jimmy…okay, I guess it makes sense. I just wasn't thinking. "My dad worked for years to get the shop off the ground. He used to work on cars for money. The store was his livelihood. I didn't really…give a crap about it, but he did, so." He shrugs. "So how about you? You got folks that you'd like to go visit?"

"Um…no." I shake my head and look down at my legs. I don't really want to think about how much I miss my mom and dad right now because I'll end up crying and then he'll see me cry and I know he'll do the same thing he did last time and he'll laugh at me for crying and it'll suck so bad. So I find something else to focus on, like my fuzzy legs. I haven't shaved them in two weeks. I think I packed a razor in my bag somewhere so I'll shave them tonight while I'm showering at whatever hotel we're going to stay at. "My mom and dad are both dead." He kind of told me a lot about himself and I'll feel insufficient if I don't reciprocate. I think this is good. I think we're getting to know each other. We're bonding. "I was actually adopted." I look over at him to see his face. He looks clearly shocked but I can also tell that he's trying to remain respectful. He doesn't have to though, because I totally get it. People usually have a lot of questions when I tell them that I was adopted. "Yeah, I was in foster care until I was ten…and that's when my mom and my dad adopted me. They both died while I was in college though."

"That's tough." For the first time since I've been associating with him, he actually sounds like he cares about something that I've said. "So you don't have anybody else but yourself?" I shake my head and start running my hands over my legs. I really don't want him to see me crying. The last time he saw me cry he laughed at me and he was really annoyed and he made me feel like such crap when he did that. I don't want to feel that horrible again. "Do you have…friends, at least?" I shake my head again. "Why not? You seem like you'd have a lot of friends."

"I just… I'm not very good at making friends." Finally something I can be happier about. I mean not having friends is equally as depressing as your parents dying or whatever, but I've accepted the fact that I don't have friends a very long time ago. I'm actually not that sad about the fact that I have no friends. "I was awkward in elementary school. I was chubby and I was a nerd…I just didn't fit in. I got picked on because I didn't have parents. In middle school, I was still chubby and one of the outcasts. It just never got better in high school. I'm not pretty like the girls that I went to school with and I wasn't real heavy on smoking and drinking and getting high on the weekends. I liked school. I didn't really like to have sex… I was just an outcast. And in college, nobody wanted to associate with the girl that couldn't afford to even be there. I was there because I got a scholarship. I wasn't there because my parents could afford to send me. It was Ivy League so of course everyone around me was richy-rich and wealthy." I pick at my nails to avoid making eye contact with him. "I don't do well with friends."

"That's a shock. I thought you'd have a bunch of friends." For some reason, he switches back to the slow lane again. I don't see an exit in sight so I'm clueless as to why he would go back to the slow lane but I guess it's not really my business. I'm not the one driving. "I'll be your friend though…if you want to be my friend, that is." I crack a smile at that and shake my head. "Whaaat? I thought I was being nice."

"I don't want pity friends." I stare at his side profile again. His eyes are lit up and he looks like he's happy. I've done the impossible. I've made him smile. I've made him happy. "I don't want you to be my friend because you feel sorry for me or because you're stuck in a car with me. I want you to be my friend because you like me."

"I do like you. You're smart…a little bit annoying…chatty. But you're nice and you know how to take a hint so I like that about you. I'm not a pity friend." He looks over at me and I give him that "I know you're lying" look. I can't explain this, but I'll try. When I look into his eyes this time, I feel like…like I was just shocked. Like I have electricity running all through my bloodstream and magnets in my chest. Magnets in my chest that are attracted to the magnets in his chest. I feel weird. "Okay, so I am a pity friend…so what though? A friend is a friend." He takes his eyes off me and puts them back on the road and the feeling goes away when he's not looking at me anymore. Why did that just happen? And why are my palms so sweaty all of a sudden? "I don't have very many friends either."

"I guess we can be friends then." I say that as if I'm doing him a favor. I'm still feeling really weird. I feel like my stomach is tying itself in knots. And I feel like I'm gonna throw up. I sigh and decide to change the conversation from something so playful to something more serious. I feel like every time I talk to him about something playful and maybe even a little flirtatious, I get nauseous. "…I guess I can see why you wouldn't have a lot of friends…" That came out so wrong! That is NOT what I meant! Oh my god!

"Well gee, thanks. Some friend you are…" He tries to act like it was a funny little joke but I can tell that I hurt his feelings. Let me clear this up.

"I'm so sorry…that's not what I meant." I apologize. Really, that isn't what I meant to say. I didn't meant that to suggest that he's too big of jerk to have any friends. I mean, he is a jerk and if people don't give him a chance to see past his jerk ways, I could see him having a hard time getting along with people. But that's not what I was going for. "I meant… like…." I bite my lip. I hope he doesn't take this out of context. "You're obviously wealthy…and you're obviously successful. People probably try to be your friend all the time just because you have money and stuff like that. It must be hard for you to know who your true friends are sometimes…" That's what I meant. That came out really, really wrong.

"It's not as bad as you'd probably think. I just like to keep to myself." He retorts. He really doesn't seem like he took offense to what I said and I'm glad for that. The last thing I need is to piss him off in any type of way and make him kick me out on the side of the road for some reason. "That's the case for relationships though… girls just wanting the money." I nod. I expected that. He seems like he'd be a person that gets around quite a bit. He's hot…I'd let him have his way with me if he wanted to. But I bet he's had a lot of sex partners and I'm unsure about that. If I slept with him, I'd probably catch something. "I am surprised though. I thought for sure you'd have friends and a boyfriend, at the very least." I laugh out loud at his assumption. Me? A boyfriend? Please. I put my hand on my chest while I laugh. "Like I said, I was wrong about you."

"I wish I had a boyfriend." I roll my eyes. "I had like…one real boyfriend, my senior year of college. And he dumped me after I had sex with him." I start picking at my nails again because this is another subject that'll make me cry. I'm not real pretty. I'm not ugly, but I'm really not all that pretty. Guys never did find me to be drop dead gorgeous or whatever so when my this guy sought me out at a basketball game just to talk to me, I really felt special. He was really nice to me and he called me beautiful and I swear I felt so special. It was bad judgment on my part, but we were only dating for a week when I had sex with him. We had been talking for two weeks before he asked me to be his girlfriend. But we were only officially dating for a week when I laid down and had sex with him. And he dumped me the next day. That was the last time I had sex. I guess it's acceptable for me to still be upset over that situation because honestly, the wound is still fresh. It only happened like seven months ago. "Guys don't find me pretty, Alex." I pick away a piece of my nail and toss it on the floor.

"Yeah well…guys are like that. I don't know why we're like that but we are. I think we just get bored. It's just something internal, really. It's like…we have sex with one girl and that's fine but we get bored with her so we need another. It's nothing against you, it's just the way our brains are programmed." He tries to clear it up but there's literally no excuse for that "relationship" I was in. It's kind of making me mad how he's defending the guy. But I guess I can't really get mad if he doesn't know the full story. I don't know. "Don't give up just because one guy was a jerk. There are a lot of jerks out there but there are some that aren't. You just gotta excuse the way our minds work sometimes."

"Yeah, well are your brains programmed to slap a girl if she says no at first? Just wondering." I accidentally snap on him but he's making me so mad with how he's defending him. There is no defending that. I mean yeah, all most guys want is sex and then that's it. But that's not normal for a guy to slap you across your face when you tell him that you haven't been dating long enough to have sex. And it's definitely not normal for the guy to break up with you as soon as you give it to him. That's not normal and I don't care what he says, boys' brains are not programmed to do that. "I just don't believe that. I believe that there is some good in everybody but I'm not going to believe that it's a guy thing…"

"…No." He shakes his head and gets real quiet. "That's not…a guy thing. I don't think guys should hit girls."

"Yeah well he hit me." I look back out the window. "Slapped me right across my face for saying no. Then dumped me when I actually did it." I sigh. "But we fought though, so." I shrug. "It's not like he slapped me and I didn't do anything. He slapped me and I ended up giving him a black eye for putting his hands on me." I look back at him because I've got a better handle on my emotions now. "I think domestic stuff goes both ways though. I don't think girls should hit boys either. I think if a girl hits a guy she's just asking to get beat up. It's a two-way street. I don't get why guys have all the stigma. Nobody should hit anybody in a relationship, male or female and that's how it should be. Boys are raised to not hit girls but girls should be raised to not hit boys either."

"Yeah, but a guy can do so much more damage."

"Sexist."

"I'm sexist now?"

"Yeah. For assuming that a girl can't do as much damage to a guy as a guy can do to a girl. That's sexist." I explain myself. He snickers and shakes his head. "….I'm pretty sure I could kick your ass." He raises his eyebrows. I nod my head. "I could. I could beat your ass and I know I could."

"I'd like to see you try. You're what? 5-feet, 5-inches? No more than 60-pounds?"

"I'm 5'6 and I'm 130. I could kick your ass, Alex. Don't underestimate me."

"Alright Jo-suh-feen. Believe what you want."

I roll my eyes at him and crack a smile. I'm getting that feeling again. I feel weird all over again. "What's your full name? Alexander….what?"

"You first."

"Elizabeth….plain and that's all. Josephine Elizabeth Wilson. It's nothing special."

"Alexander Michael Karev." He mumbles.

"But I thought—"

"I got my mom's last name." He explains before I even get a chance to ask him about it. Weird how he just knew what I was going to say. "That was their compromise in the divorce. My dad got full custody of me but I had to take my mom's last name. Don't ask why because I don't know, but that's the deal.

"So you were Alex Evans until you were 10?" I ask. He nods his head. Alex Karev sounds better than Alex Evans, I admit that much. Alexander Michael Karev…as opposed to Alexander Michael Evans. Wait… I look over at him and just wrinkle my brow. His eyes are focused on the road again so he doesn't know that I'm looking at him but I can't stop looking at him. I close my eyes to envision the cover of the book I have in my bag that's in the trunk of his car. The Hour by Michael A. Evans. The A… Alexander? Michael Alexander Evans… maybe that's code for Alexander Michael Evans. Does the A in Michael A. Evans stand for Alexander? It's him. He's Michael Evans. Why didn't he tell me? I sit back against the seat I'm sitting in and keep my arms folded across my chest while I'm deep in thought over the piece of information I just found out. Why wouldn't he tell me? He saw me reading his book last night and he didn't tell me.

It's quiet between the two of us now and the only sound is coming from the song that just started playing on the radio. Maybe it's all just a big coincidence. Maybe he really isn't Michael Evans. No, he has to be. It makes all too much sense. The… the name is just too perfect. He's Michael Evans. I think I'm mad at him for not telling me, but then again, I don't know if I have the right to be mad at him. I mean, he doesn't really have to tell me if he doesn't want to tell me. But I feel like he's lying to me. I feel like he lied. Did he lie though? Is it technically lying? He starts slowing down as we approach a toll. "Can you reach in my glovebox and hand me the wallet in there? I got some change." I don't want to let on that I'm just a little bit mad at him or something so I just reach forward and open up the glove compartment. I grab the wallet he's talking about and hand it to him. A small, rectangular, purple box catches my attention in the compartment. I tilt my head so I can see if it's what I think it is. Trojan Ecstasy Bare Skin Condoms. I bite my lip to try not to crack a smile. I'm trying to be mad at him but it's like he won't let me.

"I'm not sitting on anybody's…bodily juices, am I?" I turn and look at him and present him with the pack of condoms I found. "I mean because that's gross. I don't even like the things that come out of my own vagina, let alone anybody else's. So if I'm sitting on…" I can't file through my brain quickly enough to find a PG word for the word I want to use, so I just use the one that's on the tip of my tongue anyway. "If I'm sitting on anybody's cum, can you tell me?"

"…That escalated quickly." He starts laughing and pushes on the gas to drive away after he pays the toll. "…See that towel in the back?" He motions to the backseat with his head. I glance in the back and see a white towel just chillin on the backseat. I nod my head. "I always put that down before I have sex in here. So no…you're not sitting on…cum."

"You're gross!" I throw the condoms back in the glove compartment and shut it. I noticed that he had the biggest size that condoms come in. Does that mean he's packing? Jesus Christ, Jo. Get yourself together. But I can't… I'm trying to be mad at him, I'm really trying. I'm trying, I'm trying, I'm trying. But now he has the biggest condoms in his car and now I'm thinking about how big his junk is. I discreetly let my eyes wander over to between his legs. I'm trying to make out the imprint of where I think it is but I can't. His pants are too baggy for me to even get an impression. What if I just like…touched it? Would he be mad? I haven't had sex in so long. Crap, I'm fantasizing again.

Crap, crap, crap. I just want him on top of me. Better yet, let me be on top of him. Let me ride him for ten minutes. Just ten minutes. I want it so bad. He's like 30 though. He's 30 and I'm like a little sister to him. I'm probably not even his type and he probably only wants somebody his own age. I'm too young for him. I may be young but I know what the hell I'm doing though. I'll ride the crap out of him and I swear he'll love it. I'm young but I know what I'm doing. He has a nice name to scream out during climax. Alex… Alex…. I just sigh. I really need to get myself together.

Alex's Point of View.

"Just come down to my room when you're done taking a shower and stuff. We'll see what's good down at the cafeteria for dinner." Tonight, we have rooms that are next to one another as opposed to rooms down the hall from each other like we had last night. I didn't ask to have rooms beside each other, it just worked out that way. This hotel isn't as nice as the one from last night but it's still nice nonetheless. We're only about an hour outside of Kansas City. We could've made it to my mom's tonight but I didn't really want to. One, it's 7:00 at night which means we would've gotten there around 8:00 or 8:30 if there's traffic but that's too late for me. I'd rather just go tomorrow and get it over with then. She leans against the door to her room with her bag in hand and just nods. I think she's waiting for me to leave first but I'm actually waiting for her to go in her room. She has a black tank top on today which shows her boobs off and she has on a pair of blue jean shorts that are so tight, they fit around her ass perfectly. She's really thin but her ass sticks out and so do her boobs. I swear she's actually perfect. "Are you gonna go in your room or not?"

She shakes her head and smiles at me. "You go in your room first." Today's been a much better day than yesterday. She and I have actually been talking today and I feel like I'm really starting to know her. She's starting to break through to me. At first, I kind of liked that she's making me open up to her because aside from the fact that I really want to fuck her, I feel like me and her could be friends. But just friends, nothing more than friends. I'm letting her in…but I refuse to let her in too much. Last time I let a girl in too far, I started to love her. And when I started to love her, I found her in the shower with my roommate. I'm a ways off from starting to love Jo, but even still, I'm going to be cautious and I'm not going to let this happen. We're friends and nothing more than friends. She's looking at me with those big, pretty brown eyes and I have to look away before she sucks me in. I look down at her lips. Her lips are full and plump and perfectly pink. She has kissable lips. I wanna kiss her. But if I kiss her, I'm going to put my hands on her perfect ass and I'm going to end up in bed with this girl and I don't want to do that.

"Go in your room, Jo." I really don't want to have sex with her. Because I'm not into her, you know? She's hot. She's sexy, she's hot and she's a cool person but I'm not into her. And from what she told me in the car, it seems like somebody that wasn't into her already had sex with her and dumped her after it and I could see it on her face that the guy who did that broke her. See, if I slept with her, it'd be the same thing. I'm not into her like that. All I want is to have sex with her and I don't want to be held accountable for upsetting her when I have to make it clear that it's JUST SEX. So I'd LOVE to fuck her. I would LOVE to make her scream my name until she can't breathe anymore. But I don't want to end up upsetting her.

"Make me." She bucks me on this. I'll make you do more than go in your room. I'll make you scream, make your legs shake, make your back hurt, make between your legs numb…just go in the room. She takes one step towards me and we're close enough to each other that if I reached my hand out just a little, I'd be touching her waist. I just want to kiss her. That's all. I want to taste her lips. I'm trying not to, but I feel my face just lean in a bit and tilt, like it does when I'm about to kiss someone. My eyes even start to close. "…Alex." She puts her hand against my chest and pushes me back. I open my eyes and look at her. I just had a lapse in judgment for a second there. I didn't mean to. I lost control of my hormones for a minute. Her eyebrows are wrinkled and she looks really confused. "…What are you doing?"

I didn't mean to almost kiss her like that. But I don't want her to know that I want her, so to save face, I'll just tell her anyway. "I'm kissing you…"

"…Don't." She shakes her head at me and puts her hand against the door. "Don't kiss me." She keeps shaking her head and opens her door. "I'm sorry…. I'm so sorry." She goes right inside her room.

"Jo." I don't want her to be upset about this. "Jo, don't do this…" She shuts her door in my face. Damn.