He folds his arms and leans over with a displeased expression, but amusement dances in his eyes. “Not really. Only that you have a candy wrapper stuck in your hair. How about you? Anything particularly fascinating about me today?”

“Nope.” I comb my fingers through my hair until I find the plastic wrapper. Balling it up, I stuff it into my pocket, and then drape my coat over the back of my chair.

“Yeah, right.” He smirks. “In fact, you look a little flushed by my presence.”

Just keep calm. Keep calm. “That’s from the cold outside.” I cup my hands onto my iced cheeks to defrost them.

“Sure it is.” He enjoys this—getting under my skin.

“Oh my God.” Aislin gasps. “Gemma, you’re frozen.”

“I got about halfway here and then had to go back to the car because I forgot my phone,” I explain, rubbing my hands together to thaw them. “I think it’s only like two degrees outside.”

Alex measures me up with his head cocked to the side. “You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.”

“I drive slow when it’s snowing.” I reach inside my pocket to silence an incoming call as my phone begins to ring. “I don’t have four-wheel drive.”

He glances over his shoulder at the window where snowflakes flutter down from the clouded sky. “It’s not that bad out there.”

“It’s completely bad,” I retort, irritated that he’s wiggling his way under my skin again. It’s as if I have no power over my emotions when it comes to him and I’ve only known him for a week. How will things progress the longer I know him? “I could barely see.”

He scrutinizes me. “Then maybe, you should have stayed home.”

“I would love to have stayed home,” I quip. “In the warmth, reading a good book, but you guys insisted we had to do this here.”

His gaze bores into me as he nibbles on his lip. Last night, in my dreams, I’d bitten on that lip several times, along with the blonde stranger’s. “Actually, that was Aislin who insisted. I was perfectly content at the idea of everyone working on this on their own and that way we wouldn’t have to see each other.”

My lungs are twitching to release the scream building up inside them. “Are you always this much of an asshole or do you just save it for me?”

He leans over the table more and our lips are so close they almost touch. His breath is hot against my skin and there is a challenge in his green eyes, as if he’s daring me to argue with him. “I save all of it just for you.”

Aislin snaps her cell phone shut. “Okay, I hate to break up your little moment, but I have to go.” She collects her coat and purse off the back of her chair as she stands up. “There’s an emergency at the… restaurant where I work and I need to go in.”

“What kind of emergency?” Alex questions as he slumps back in his chair.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and slips her arms through the sleeves of a fur-trimmed coat. She flips her hair out from beneath the collar and hitches the handle of her purse over her shoulder. “I just got a text saying that they need me to come in as soon as possible.”

Alex looks unconvinced. “Bullshit. You’re bailing so you can go out with that dude you met last week.”

Aislin points her finger at him. “Be nice while I’m gone. I mean it. And get some stuff done. You’ve been slacking and letting Gemma and I pick up your workload.” She waves at me. “See you later, Gemma.”

I give her a small wave as she walks toward the exit, pressing buttons on her phone. Alex and I watch her until she disappears out the doors.

When he looks at me again, he seems nervous. His posture’s stiff and he keeps fidgeting with his sleeves; pushing them up and then tugging them back down. “So, I guess it’s just you and me.”

“I guess so,” I mutter as electricity caresses my skin.

Silence stacks around us and I begin to fidget. Each tick of the clock, thump of a book being put on the shelf and each whisper only add to the awkwardness.

Alex begins tapping his pen on the table as if he thinks he’s a drummer. He’s eyeballing the corner of the library where a tall, blond girl, wearing a short skirt is browsing through a row of books. As she bends over to search the bottom shelf, Alex slants his head to the side to get a better view of her ass.

So that’s his type.

The longer I contemplate her being Alex’s type, the more infuriated I grow. The cause behind the manifestation of these feelings is unknown, which makes the situation that much more frustrating. Every time he taps that damn pen, the potency of the sparks surges. They no longer feel like soft kisses, but like little bites from a thousand gnats.

“Can you cut the tapping out?” I ask him, releasing my death grip from the chair. I put my elbows on the desk and press my fingertips to my temples. “It’s hurting my head.”

He tears his gaze away from the blond and the corners of his lips quirk. “Probably not. In fact, it’s very important that I don’t.”

I slouch back in my chair and blow out a frustrated breath. “Why are you such an asshole to me? Did I do something to you that I don’t know about, besides touching you without permission?”

“Kind of.”

“Can you tell me what, then? So I won’t do it again.”

“Nah, I’d rather not.”

I pierce my fingernails into my palms as the prickle jabs at my neck and blots my vision with red. “Why not?”

He shrugs as he drags his teeth along the top of the pen and his tongue slips out from his mouth. “It’s complicated.”

“The story of my life,” I mumble, breathing through the last of my rage. The feeling has passed. Thank God.

“What’s so complicated in your life?” He tosses the pen on the table and crosses his arms over his chest. “You seem like you have it easy, if you ask me.”

“You barely know me,” I say. “So don’t make assumptions about me. For all you know, I could be a recovering crack addict, struggling to keep my sobriety.”

“Are you?” He doubts.

I scowl at him. “No, but the point is that I could be.”

“But, you’re not.” He pauses. “You know, you could always try to explain the complexity of your life to me, so I don’t have to make assumptions. Maybe it’ll turn out that I’m a really great listener.”

I’m flabbergasted. “You seriously want to hear about my problems? You want me to pour my heart and soul out to you? Be my best friend?”

He winces at something I’ve said. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Then, why are we even talking about this?” My fingers seek my jacket on the back of the chair and I prepare to make a dramatic exit. “I think that day on the bench you made it pretty clear that you didn’t like me and that you don't want to get to know me.”

He meticulously watches me for a moment, then his eyes sweep around the room like he’s about to do something wrong. “Okay, here’s the deal. I promise I won’t be a jerk anymore.” He checks over his shoulder again and then reduces the volume of his voice until it’s low and husky. “In fact, I’ll be really nice to you. And I mean ─ really, really nice.”

I remain calm on the outside, but on the inside, I’m a violent storm of emotions. Some are fueled by rage and others by the sexiness of his Goddamn voice. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you suddenly going to be nice to me? When all you’ve done is be rude and insult me. What’s the catch?”

“When did I ever insult you?”

“Yesterday, in class, you said that my eyes were,” I make air quotes, “‘Weird’ and that they throw your concentration off whenever you have to look at them. That was the second time you’ve taken a jab at them, too.”

“I didn’t mean that as a bad thing,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “They’re just distracting because they’re…”

“Violet,” I finish with my eyes fastened on him.

“Actually, I was going to go with different.” There’s a tiny indication of a smile on his lips. “But, violet works. It’s not a bad thing, though. Different is good. It’s normal that’s overrated.”

“The first time we met, you let the door slam me in the elbow,” I remind him, lowering my voice as Mrs. Bakerly glares at me from behind the counter. Shit. The last thing I need is to lose my job. I fold my arms on top of the table, lean my weight on them, and incline my body forward. “And, you got mad at me because I…”

The smile that breaks through his face is so radiant that his eyes sparkle under the lights. “Because you touched me.”

I roll my tongue in my mouth trying to contain my aggravation. “It still didn’t mean you had to be rude to me.”

“I know.” He appears genuinely sincere. “And, I’m sorry about that. I was having a rough morning.”

I evaluate him. Can he feel the electricity, too? Because I sure as hell can. He seems content, calm, and perfectly in control with his shoulders relaxed and his eyes soft. “It hurt when the door hit my elbow.”

“And again, I’m sorry.” He looks around the room again, paying extra attention to the door where a few people are wandering in.

“Are you expecting someone?” I ask, craning my neck to look around at the door and the shelves. “Or are you looking for an escape route.”

“That depends on if you’re planning to try and attack me again,” he quips, his lips teasing upward. “Like when we first met.”

“I didn’t try to attack you,” I protest, narrowing my eyes at him. “I just put my hands on you.”

“Without permission,” he points out with that damn cocky smirk on his face. “Tell me, do you always do that with people you don’t know?”

“Do you always let doors slam on people that you don’t know?” It’s like we’re running around in circles, bantering and bickering like an old couple. I need to leave and put a stop to it, but it’s the most interaction I’ve had with another human being and, despite the negativity, I’m kind of enjoying myself.

“Again, you touched me without permission,” he says. “What did you expect to happen?”

“You know what, you’re so right.” I hold up my hand, showing him my palm. “You see this scar right here.” I trace my finger along a faint white scar and let sarcasm drip through my voice. “I put my hand on this guy once and he cut my hand open, but I guess it was okay because I put my hands on him without permission.” A total bullshit lie, but I’m trying to make a point.

He leans back in his chair, positioning his fist in front of his mouth to conceal a smile. “Sounds like the perfect punishment.” He reads through my bullshit lie like an open book.

I roll my eyes and let my hand fall onto the table. “Look, I’m sorry for touching you. I just… I don’t know why I did it.”