"Okay," I say, feeling for the tenth time in the last hour as though my strength is about to go. "Does anyone know how to—" Before I can finish, I'm finally cut off by the bell. My students relish in it as well as I, though we show it in different ways. They jump out of their seats and sprint from the room. I collapse into my chair. At the sight of the door closing at the edge of my vision, I close my eyes.

When I hear it open, close again and lock five minutes later, my eyes snap open. I glare at whomever it is before I even see them.

And of course, it's Jack. I so do not have the energy to deal with him right now.

The second he sees me, he locks his eyes on me and won't look away, giving me an odd, tingling feeling that I've never experienced before. He waltzes over to me and leans across my desk. "You ready to go?" he asks.

I barely nod in response. I can feel the crash that he was talking about earlier. It should come any minute.

I suddenly get the feeling of being hit on the head with a burning anvil.

Or any second, I think as I slump forward and forget to remember what is happening.

I open my eyes to find myself completely encased in Jack's arms.

Why do I keep waking up like this?

I notice that this time however, I am not in incredible pain nor is Jack still asleep. No, he's staring right at me.

Mumbling and abashed, I say, "Um, hello."

"Hi," he replies evenly, not at all fazed by the fact that I caught him gazing at me.

Trying to avoid this getting more awkward and pointedly ignoring the decrease in my body temperature from what I hope is simply our proximity to one another, I ask, "What time is it?"

"Four in the morning."

"Oh, wow."

"Yep; it's pretty early."

"Indeed."

"Yes," he drawls, his eyes half-lidded.

Oh, please tell me he's acting like this because he's tired, I pray, though I'm not really sure to whom. After my fight with Jack on "the notion of 'God,'" as he put it, I haven't been able to believe in anything besides simply being, which I suppose, as an immortal, may not be so aberrant.

I break free of my thoughts when Jack starts breathing deeply with his face in my hair. Being that this means that he's only tired, I expect to feel relief; only, I don't.

His breathing seems to still, so I believe that he's fallen asleep. I put my hands on his chest to push him away and free myself, doubting that I'll be able to sleep like this. However, when I do, he shifts slightly and unexpectedly nips my earlobe.

Holy crap.

It's as if all thoughts fly from my mind and I can only focus on the physical, which is just him, everywhere.

He's moving against me in a way that I can only describe as writhing. He's running his hands up and down my back and kissing my neck and I. Just.

Can't.

Think.

Practically against my own free will, my body starts trembling, but I don't know why, and I hear him moan. Like, literally. Moan.

His lips take mine and I actually kiss him back, though I don't want to.

A single thought breaches the surface. Do I not want to?

Then one hand is in my hair and he's tugging my head back softly. The other hand is at my sleeve and he's pulling it down, but it's loose enough and merely slips down my arm, revealing my skin, and his lips are on my shoulder and I. Just.

Can't.

Think.

I can't see his face and I don't want to, afraid of what I might see.

Afraid.

The thought penetrates some sort of barrier and my body stops trembling; I stop moving entirely, even my breath ceases for a moment.

I'm afraid.

I never thought I'd be afraid of this and I guess I'm not, but I'm nervous. I'm too nervous.

Without thinking of any consequences, I shove myself away from Jack and leap from the bed, stumbling backward on the carpet. In a surprised stupor, he looks up at me with what can only be described as desire in his eyes. I freeze, his stare pinning me to the spot.

His minds seems to finally snap to attention, his eyes widening. He sits up, which startles me, my breath catching and my feet moving backwards. "Oh, crap, Ana. Wait—"

But I don't wait; I can't wait. I turn and run from the room, slamming the door behind me. I stop there, not wanting to go any further, though I can't discern why. Simply standing with the cold closed door to my back, I slow my panicked breathing and squeeze my eyes shut, willing everything to fall away so I can finally think.

I hear Jack's footsteps in the room as he makes his way to the door. I feel his fingers hit the knob on his side and I instinctively clench my hand around the one on mine, even though I know this couldn't stop him if he really wanted to come out.

He only tries opening the door once, probably feeling my resistance. After a moment, I hear a soft thud against the frozen wood right above my head, and so believe it to be his.

My breathing has gone back to normal and I'm no longer experiencing that strange, unidentifiable feeling that I had been before. I lean back against the door and my hand slips from the knob.

I hear Jack's muffled voice through the door, "Ana, can I talk to you?"

"You already are," I reply curtly, furrowing my brow at my unexpected outburst.

He clears his throat. "Well, I'm sorry that I kind of, um, jumped on you. I didn't mean to. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't think it through."

He wanted to? How am I supposed to respond to that?

Before I can even begin to form a thought concerning what to say, he apologizes again. For only a second, I think about being mad at him. I should be mad at him. But I'm not. I'm not because I think . . . I think . . .

I kind of liked it.

My entire body jolts from the shock of my epiphany. All I can do is mumble a quick acceptance of his apology and say sorry for shoving him myself before I dash down the halls until I reach the safety of my room.

I quickly stumble into my bed, stripping myself of my work clothes as I go and not bothering to throw my nightgown on.

Then I merely lay there, trying to make sense of the discord that my realization has brought to my life. Of course, it's impossible; and I can't say that the next few wee hours of the day brought any sleep with them.

The whole week has gone by in a blur. I remember teaching my classes, but at the same time, I don't, really. I've tried to avoid and not avoid Jack at the same time, which to be honest, has caused me headaches.

There is one painful thing I've been aware of the whole time, though: how awkward this all is. Jack and I are both tiptoeing about each other, though I'm sure he doesn't know the actual reason that I'm being so skittish. I just don't want that peculiar, consuming feeling of lust to come over me again.

Moreover, why should it? The whole thing was completely unnecessary. I mean, Jack should've known that I wouldn't have wanted to do anything like what he had had in mind after waking from being unconscious for the second time in two days and being starving from lack of any food. But no! He just had to do it.

Of course, at the same time, I realize that I'm being unreasonable as well. I should just let this go and move on, but my astonishment at my own fervor has locked me into the same routine that I was in when I was first here and felt like I was trapped.

Now, it's Saturday morning and I'm reluctant to do, well, anything. I've been standing in the kitchen for fifteen minutes, waiting to come to a decision for as to what to do with myself or for Jack to just burst through the door.

When he doesn't show up, I settle on drafting a quiz for my students. I set up shop in the living room, my books and papers scattered around me.

As I start on question No.7, a sharp knock echoes through the room. My brow furrows, wondering who would be at our door at this time.

I heave myself off the couch and make my way to the door. I whip it open despite not knowing who's on the other side and come face to face with Kaliegh Claus.

She gives me an expectant look. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" I ask slowly. She takes on a shocked and slightly offended expression, raising her eyebrows. Was I going to go somewhere with Kaliegh? I don't think I've seen her since—Oh. My eyes widen as I remember that she asked me to sleep over at her house today. "I-I forgot. I'm so sorry." She continues to stare me down with disappointment, but I can see that she's now more amused than upset. I wave her inside and tell her to sit while I get ready. "Just one minute," I assure her before I bolt from the room.

I storm into my room pulling out the only bag I have from under my bed to stuff clothing in. I start jumping around, trying to yank my shoes on, comb my hair, put my earrings in and brush my teeth simultaneously.

When I finally emerge from the hall to the living room, I find Kaliegh standing and glaring at something. I look to see what it is she's glaring at and see Jack standing there, also glaring.

I don't say anything, and neither do either of them. The tension in the room could literally freeze us all and I don't think the two of them would notice.

After several excruciatingly awkward moments—for me, anyway—Jack says, "What are you doing here?" through gritted teeth. Man, they really hate each other, I think.

"I'm here to pick up Ana," Kaliegh replies coolly, gesturing to me. Jack glances at me for a moment, but his eyes quickly dart away when they catch mine. I sigh.

"Why would you be picking her up?"

"Because she's coming over to my house for a sleep over."

"Oh, for Bor's sake!"

"You know what—"

"Enough," I manage to squeak over their uproar. "Jack, what is your problem?" I snap, but immediately regret it at the upset look on his face.

He tries to play it nonchalant: "I was just thinking that maybe we could hang out today . . . or something."

I heave another sigh. "Sorry, but I already made plans with Kaliegh on Tuesday."

"Well, you could've told me."

"You didn't exactly give me the chance," I retort.

Jack and I stare each other down for a few seconds until Kaliegh whistles, breaking the tension. "Trouble in paradise, eh?" At that, Jack turns his glare back to her. However, she doesn't notice. "Can we go now?"

I nod my consent. "Yes."

She walks over to me and slings her arm around my shoulder. "Later, Frost," she says coolly, and then pulls out her snow globe and throws it to the ground. I expect it to break open into a slippery, sharp mess, but as it hits the floor, it turns into a portal beneath our feet. We slip through it.