Holy crap you guys, 600 reviews and still going? YOU GUYS KICK FREAKING ASS!!

Okay, sorry for the explosion, on with the reading...

"Why do you keep doing that?" The words tumble out of my mouth before I get the will to stop them.

Indy's smile grows more apparent on his face. "Doing what?" He asks innocently.

It's about four in the afternoon, and I'm sitting under the tree above the tomb. Abner stuck me out here because I'm forbidden from the tomb, and then had Indy come out here to watch me.

But watching me is seeming to be very enjoyable for him.

I'm curled up on a chair, trying to engross myself in Mr. Darcy's proposal to Elizabeth while stupid Indiana Jones is STARING AT ME.

The same intense, blatant, observant stare that I can only catch him giving me. But now, he's not looking away, making me feel so uncomfortable I want to run away from him.

I scoff. "Staring at me, you idiot. Don't do it."

He leans forward in the chair, folding his arms with a self-satisfied smirk. "Does it bother you?"

No Jones, it simply turns me to a melted puddle of water.

"Yes." I answer curtly.

I dare to move my eyes to his, fervent hazel to hesitantly curious green. I almost flinch with the openness of his gaze. We're five feet apart, but we might as well be five centimeters so.

I refuse to give in, I hold my stare, raising my eyebrows oh-so-slightly as to make me seem cocky, confident.

The contest probably lasts hours, days, eons. I don't notice though, swimming in my favorite multi-colored pool. I'm afraid to blink, terrified to break that single physical connection that we seemed to have formed at the moment.

I memorize his face, every crevice and valley. Every hint of five 'o clock shadow. Every eyelash on his lids. It still isn't enough. If I could just move forward...bridge that awful gap between us. If I could just memorize his lips, how they look...feel...TASTE.

This is insane. With what seems tremendous will power, I wrench my gaze from his, breaking the contact and ending the staring contest. He laughs.

I turn back to my beloved Pride & Prejudice with a glare, not in a particularly happy mood. I once again immerse myself in Mr. Darcy's love confession, trying to find an excuse for the rapid spluttering of my heart.

After two more pages, I feel it again, that familiar stare on my face, my hair, my...everywhere. I try to resist reacting, but it's too much. I'm a wimp.

With as much swiftness as possible, I stand and walk to my tent, tucking my novel under my arm.

When I get to my tent, I toss my book down and take a few deep breaths. If I don't gain control, I know I won't be able to have control of anything; my thoughts, my wishes, my actions.

And yet, as I lay back on my cot and focus on an empty space in nowhere-land, I figure it is so worth it. Practically losing my small bit of control was SO WORTH having his eyes on me. I don't care HOW he was looking at me, whether he was thinking of me as a friend or an annoying little girl, his stare is the one thing that can throw me to pieces and put me back together again.

Damn you and your beautiful stare, Indy.

A useless short for fun. I'm going to try and update one more time this weekend but I can't be sure. Check my profile for information on my writing schedule and reason of procrastinations. It's updated every day or so.

Review and look for typos please!