Psychometrics was probably April's second favorite class, but her latest grade confused her. She could have sworn she knew the material.

She put her book bag on the desk and walked up to Professor Darkhölme as the class cleared out.

"Ms. Darkhölme, can I talk to you about the test?"

"Yes, Miss Henson. At my regular office hours, beginning at one."

"I'm sorry. If you have time now I'd appreciate it. I have papers to grade for Professor Barton."

"Oh, that's right. He did mention you're his T.A. Well, your studies come before your T.A. position. So, if it's interfering with your work perhaps you should let him find someone… better suited."

"It's not interfering. It's just that he already has me scheduled to be in his office to grade papers. And it's the only time he has between his classes and office hours."

"If you want to discuss the test badly enough, you'll be in my office in an hour." She grabbed her purse and bag and walked toward the steps to leave the auditorium, but she stopped at April's usual seat in the front. "This is a nice book bag. Maybe when you come to see me you can tell me where you bought it."

April stood staring after her. Darkhölme was by no means an easy teacher, but she'd never been so… bitchy? Was that it?

She'd talk to Clint. He'd understand that she needed to discuss the test to keep her GPA up. She picked up their lunch order and met him in his office. Once the door was closed she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"April…."

"Yeah, I know. But I have some disappointing news."

He leaned back and took his glasses off. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah. I have to go see Darkhölme about my last test score, and her only office time is at one."

"What's wrong with the test score?"

"I went into that test confident that I knew the material. I left with confidence that I'd get an A. She gave me a C."

"You have the test?"

"In my bag."

"Let me see."

"It's not the first one, either," she said as she handed the test to Clint. "Last test was a B. I just thought I'd messed up, so I studied even harder for the next one. There's no way I should have a C. It's like she suddenly has it out for me, nitpicking my essays to death." She bit into her sandwich. "Oh, and I asked her if I could quickly meet with her when class ended, because I needed to help you grade papers during this hour, and she told me that if I can't handle my T.A. position I should let you find someone else."

His eyes shot to hers. "She mentioned me specifically?"

"No. Not really. I said it was you, and she said you'd mention that I was your T.A."

Clint dropped the paper and ran a hand over his face. "I didn't mention you."

"What?"

"At the retirement party, she mentioned grading papers being a T.A. job, and we talked about my T.A., but I never said who it was."

"Ok. So?"

"April… Darkhölme is the one who's been hitting on me for the past month."

"Her? She's… gorgeous. How could you not tell me it was her?"

"Because I didn't want you acting differently toward her. I knew she was one of your professors. The question is, how does she know you're my T.A.?"

"I don't know. Why does it matter that she knows?"

"Why would she lie and say I'd mentioned it was you?"

April's eyes got wide. "You think she knows about us?"

"I don't know. Maybe. She's asked me out a couple more times. I always say I have work to do. She's stopped by the house a couple times. Maybe she saw something."

They both sat and thought for a few minutes. Then April's stomach dropped.

"My book bag. When she walked away, she mentioned that I had a nice book bag. I thought it was really odd at the time, but…"

"If she saw it at my house… shit!"

"Clint, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful where I put it."

"No. Hang on. The times she came over I told her I was working. Just because you weren't in the room doesn't mean you weren't there to work."

"Unless she's been watching you. You said the other day that she's been creeping you out when she talks to you. Asking you out, trying to sit or stand close. If she's the possessive type..."

Clint shook his head. "Look at us. A couple of psych majors ignoring the obvious for so long," he said.

"Well, it's not like she's our patient. And neither of us had all the information."

"Still. I'll have to sit her down and talk to her. See what she knows. I'll play it like you're just my T.A. and go from there." He stood and grabbed his suit jacket. "Stay here and grade those papers. I'll talk to her while she's free."

"Now?"

"Why put it off?"

"She'll think I ran to you to complain."

"I'll take care of it. I promise."

Clint knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

"Hey, Raven. Got a minute?"

"For you? Sure."

She smiled and motioned for him to sit.

"I need to talk to you about April Henson."

"Who?"

"My T.A. She's in your Psychometrics class. Wanted to talk to you about a test today?"

"Oh, right. What about her?"

"You're giving her a hard time. Why?"

"Clint, you know how office hours work."

"I do. I also know that we have enough time to spend five minutes with a student after class. And we also try to give leeway to T.A.'s. So, what's up?"

"I think her job as T.A. is affecting her grades. I'm trying to make her see that she should give it up."

"That's not your place. And those grades…" he pulled the test from his pocket. "She's not pulling anything but A's and a few B's in her other classes. I read over these essays. They're good."

"Not good enough."

"Why are you being so hard on her?"

"It's for her own good, Clint. She's a child, and she can't handle the load of being your… T.A."

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Is this about me not going out with you? Are you hurting a student to get to me?"

"Am I hurting a student? I don't know Barton, are you fucking one?"

"Excuse me?"

"You two really think you're careful, but the little lingering looks are sickening."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Raven pulled an envelope from her drawer and handed it to Clint. Inside were photos of him and April at a restaurant three hours away where they didn't have to hide. Or so they thought.

"You're stalking me?"

"Private investigator. I had to know what kind of man I was going after."

"The kind who said he didn't want you." He tucked the photos into his jacket.

"Oh, please, keep them. Those are just copies. I have the digitals."

Clint ran a hand through his hair. "Ok. Here's what's gonna happen..."

"Are you going to threaten me now?"

"No. I'm going to make you a deal."

"I'm all ears."