I look at Matt and then down at my hand. “So do I get my hand back?”

“I don't think so,” he says, literally oozing sex appeal out of every pore.

Now I would have thought this kind of bold move would turn me off a guy, but it seems to be having the opposite effect. I'm kind of impressed. It's goofy, but this is something I could see myself doing to make an impression.

“So I'll just have to stay here all night, huh?” I say innocently, but knowing the sentence has major innuendo.

'Well, at least until you get to know me properly,” he replies and blinks lazily.

“Oh, great,” I say, rolling my eyes in mock boredom, “next you'll ask me my major.”

“No, I already know. Engineering.”

Mr. Smarty Pants, huh?

“Well, either you read my interview, or you are psychic.”

“Guilty.”

Not only is he still holding my hand, but also, he is totally invading my personal space. It's making me slightly crazy. I'm having a very hard time trying not to look at his mouth. I fear if I keep looking at it, I might do something rash, like just start kissing it. I am also fighting a growing impulse to rub my cheek up against all those stubbles on his face.

“I did read your interview. In fact you might be interested to know that this fraternity house was built in 1957. It has some very interesting architectural details.”

Oh really? Let me guess, you want to give me a tour?

“You know, I've heard about this house practically my whole life. Phillip's dad and my dad belonged to this fraternity and lived here.”

“Well, in that case, I bet you would love a tour.” His gaze is predatory.

Now I do remember hearing that rule. No tours. I'm looking around for Phillip, hoping he'll return with my beer. I'd really like to have something to keep my mouth occupied.

“Maybe later,” I say politely, not completely refusing. “So this interview stuff, seems to me it's just a way for you guys to get the inside scoop on the new crop. Let me guess, tomorrow night you will sit around a fire and score the girls?”

He has an expression of surprise on his face that leads me to believe that is exactly what they will do.

“Who told you that?” he whispers, leaning in closer to me. I can feel his warm breath on my neck and I can smell him. He smells different from Phillip, more like soap, but still nice.

“You really do that?” I laugh in disbelief, yet I can totally picture it. It is so very much something boys would do.

I'm on a roll now, so I take another stab in the dark. “And the scores, are they based on looks or how, um, friendly the girls are?”

“You're not supposed to know about this,” he whispers in my ear again.

I really don't think it's a big secret. I think he's just trying to get to me.

It's working.

“I'd say we rank the girls on their ability to make friends,” he states, like a not so truthful politician.

“So hypothetically, let's say I kiss you tonight, what kind of ranking would I get?” I flirt.

“One star.”

I give him an insulted look, and then I try to make my face look sexy.

“What if I'm really good at it?”

“Still only one star,” he responds, like sorry.

“I see. So what if I were to say, strip naked and dance on a table?”

He grins, “Although that is something I would very much enjoy seeing, I'm afraid it would net you no stars. It's kind of like the difference between a spectator sport and a contact sport.”

Ah, I get it.

“So are you going to kiss me?”

“No,” I respond, shaking my head like it is the furthest thing from my mind.

I am so lying, because it's right up there at the top. All I can think about really.

“Well, how are you going to earn any stars? You strike me as a competitive girl.”

Oh, I am such a tease.

“I didn't say I wasn't going to kiss anyone.”

“Ah,” he says, holding his chest, “break my heart.”

Yeah, I'm sure.

“Actually I'm joking. I doubt I'll kiss anyone tonight.”

“What? Surely you don't want to be the ONLY girl here without a star to her name?”

He thinks this comment is like a dare to me. That I will be dying to get a kiss, so I can be like everyone else. I somehow doubt every girl here will get kissed tonight, but obviously he has yet to figure me out, cuz that sounds like a challenge to me.

“You know, I think that is exactly what I'd like to be.”

“So do you always get exactly what you want?”

Uh no, not really, but I think my luck is changing.

Matt is grinning at me like I'm the new Christmas toy he really wanted, but can't play with yet because he hasn't read the instructions.

“If I have anything to say about it, yeah, I guess I usually do,” I answer truthfully.

I'm feeling a little full of myself tonight, and I'm having fun.

And it's true. If I want it and I can do something to make it happen, I usually will.

Jerk boys who date sluts and car accidents are things I just can't control. Mr. Diamond has been telling me that over and over. Only deal with what you can control, JJ.

“So let me guess,” he says, finally releasing my hand and pretending to hold an interview sheet to the side of his head like a psychic.

“Ah yes, I have it. Prom queen, cheerleader, dated the quarterback, voted prettiest eyes. Am I close?”

“One. You already told me you read my interview. And Two. Those things weren't even on there.”

“So humor me.”

“Ehh....50-50.” I hold my hand out flat and tilt it back and forth. “No to prom queen, hell no to cheerleader, yes to the quarterback,” I say with a roll of my eyes and then a pointed look. “But Jake turned out to be an asshole. And yes,” I say, batting my eyelashes, “to the eyes.”

Matt leans into me, pushes my long bangs out of the way and gazes straight into my eyes, “Yeah, total bedroom eyes.”

I try not to get flustered, but this guy is kind of unnerving me.

Okay, really unnerving me.

So I go back to being a smart ass, hoping to diffuse this time bomb standing next to me.

“How about you? Have you already picked your victims for tonight?” I lower my voice and whisper huskily, “I heard you're practically a legend around here.”

He shrugs and looks slightly embarrassed.

Figures. If I were a guy, he'd be entertaining me with stories about past victims, but since I'm a girl, the predator has turned into Mr. Shy and Innocent.

“So is there a record for the number of stars given out by one guy?” I say, changing the subject. But then I think and add, “Please don't say my dad.”

He chuckles. “Well, there are 2 records, actually.” He looks around, like he's about to give me top secret information, and then whispers meaningless names, numbers, and dates into my ear.

“And your personal best?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He squints at me in irritation.

I decide to make him a bit more uncomfortable. I stand closer to him and poke my finger gently on his chest, “Hey, you're the one that wanted me to get to know you.”

He looks me in the eyes, trying to stall, but finally says, “It's private.”

“Okay, so now you've got me curious.”

He shrugs.

“Fine. I'll just have to take a guess.”

“Hmm,” I lick my lips then put my finger to my mouth and rub my bottom lip, supposedly thinking. Really I just want him to look at my mouth. “Practically legendary status, but no records.” I lean into him and whisper a wild guess into his ear.

I can tell immediately that I nailed it, or came pretty darn close. The instant shocked look on his face is a dead giveaway.

My, my.

“Seems like we both tend to get what we want.” I can't help but smirk at him. He is fun to tease.

He is embarrassed and obviously doesn't want to talk about it.

I look around and see that Phillip is kissing a girl with bouncy brown hair. Jeez, when did the boy learn to work so fast? Maybe this fraternity thing will be good for him. I mean, I'm very impressed.