Disclaimer: I do not own any characters related to Power Rangers they are owned by Saban/Disney et. al

I do however own all things Tanzetti and reserve the right to reuse them as I please.

Marcy dropped the heavy box of books on the floor between the shelves. Henry, the illustrious manager had just scored a plethora of science fiction novels from some dim-witted empty-nest mother who had taken the initiative of redecorating after her son moved away to college. It was kind of sad really, the selection was exquisite. Classics galore, all in prime condition and guaranteed to be missed by college boy when he returned home for spring break. She took a handful of books and started scanning the shelves looking for the alphabetical place they would call home at least until she could afford to buy them.

"Marcy?"

She jumped at the voice and dropped the books in her hand. Her feet backed into the box and she felt herself go down. A firm hand clamped around her wrist and pulled her back on her feet, simultaneously sending a rush of energy through her body that would have flattened her again if she wasn't being held steadily in place.

She felt herself pivot and landed with her back against the bookshelf, Billy Cranston's deep blue eyes the only thing she could see, and the heat and power of his hand on her wrist the only sensation she was aware of.

He let her go quickly, guilt marring his sharp square face.

"I'm sorry," he said, backing away as much as possible in the narrow aisle. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's alright," she breathed. She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her wrist, and compared to it, the rest of her body felt cold.

"I'm sorry about Saturday too," he continued. "I didn't know Tommy was going to show up."

She shook her head. "It's fine. You didn't need to come all the way out here to tell me that."

"I tried to call you," he said, his eyes peaking up at her from under his long lashes. He was afraid to look at her, she realized. But was it fear of retribution, or attraction?

"I've been busy." It was a lie and they both knew it, but she said it anyway. She'd ignored his calls all weekend, refused to pick up the phone. He'd called the store twice as well, and she'd always found something else to be doing when Mike or Henry told her she had a phone call.

"You're a really bad liar," he stated suddenly.

That took her aback. She hadn't expected him to confront her, not when he could barely stand to look at her without blushing.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

He stood up a little straighter, his small victory over her giving him more confidence. "Whatever I did-"

"You didn't do anything, Billy." She leaned back against the bookshelf. She really didn't want to have this conversation. She'd hoped that after a few days of not being able to reach her, he'd give up and write her off as tease and move on. But instead he was standing in front of her, demanding an explanation, challenging her to escape him again. He'd sought her out instead of dismissing her. Perhaps he was a warrior after all.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked.

"You're seventeen."

"So?"

"I'm twenty-one."

Realization washed over his face. He shifted his weight and tried to take a step backwards and was stopped by a bookshelf full of romance novels.

"I'm twenty-one," she repeated. "I go to Angel Grove University."

"And I just assumed…" he started, but his voice faded out and he didn't finish the thought.

"I should have been more specific," she said. "I'm sorry."

"I turn eighteen next month," he said. "Twenty seven days to be exact."

She pinched her lips together to keep from laughing. He was trying to charm her, and it was working. "It doesn't matter," she said.

"Why?"

He was standing straighter, that determined look in his eye. He really was a warrior at heart.

"You're kidding right?" What was he getting at? He was challenging something he wasn't prepared to face. "It would be completely inappropriate, not to mention illegal." Only barely, it was unlikely anyone would press charges, even if his birthday wasn't so close.

"Only for the next three point eight five weeks."

Marcy started at that. "Excuse me?"

"Three point eight five weeks," he said. "Approximately."

This time she couldn't help but laugh. He was not only a warrior, but a genius, she reminded herself, and evil genius at that.

Her laughter seemed to break the tension and he relaxed a little. "So we can at least be friends?" he asked cautiously.

She took a deep breath, preparing for the words she didn't want to say. "No, Billy, we can't be friends."

"Why not?"

There were a million reasons she could make up, a million excuses she could plausibly create, but he'd already shown a talent for seeing through her lies. The only thing left was the truth.

"Because every time I see you all I can think about, is how much I want you to kiss me."

She expected her words to shock him. She expected him to blush the way he had when she'd approached him in the garage. She thought perhaps it would even intimidate him enough to make him want to run.

What she didn't expect was for him to cross the space between them in one step and cup her face in his hands. Before she could move his mouth was on hers and a rush of emotion flooded over her. Not only wasn't he scared of her, he had no intention of letting her go easily.

The abruptness of his actions and the rush of his emotions overpowered her better judgment and instead of pushing him away, as she knew she should, she instead found herself wrapping her hands around his waist, pulling him closer. She knew from that moment on, she was at his mercy.

He broke the kiss slowly, still holding her face in his hands. She didn't realize it until that moment but she had a grip on the back of his shirt that could easily tear it apart.

"I must be absolutely, undeniably crazy," she whispered.

"We both are," he replied.

"I guess you're an evil genius after all."

He just smiled at that and leaned in to kiss her again.