It was official: an alien had taken over my body.

Never in my life had I felt this stupidly giddy about a guy. Sure, I'd admire his good looks from afar. Maybe find him funny like Jack the Jock and live to regret it forever.

After Eric had asked to speak to me after class, it sent me into the hugest tizzy.

What did he want? Would he ask me out? What would I say?

Not that it mattered. My grandparents would never allow it. No matter what it meant. Unless the guy's name happened to be Bryan Delacourt, no man would ever meet their strict criteria.

Maybe it was even worse. Maybe Eric wanted to take me to his senior prom.

Oh, God! Please anything but that! I can't dance for shit.

Don't be silly! Why the hell would Eric ask you? He hardly knows you.

As much as I dreaded him asking me, my crazy brain took the idea and ran with it. Pretty soon I tripped around my imagination, dreaming up a fantastical scenario where I'd dress up in a fancy purple ball gown and walk beside him.

Fantastical in the sense that I could actually dance. Rather than cavorting around like an awkward numb nut as usual.

It would be perfect. Like a fairy tale.

After a few fast dances, we'd settle into each other's embrace and sway to the sensuous rhythm. His arms cradling my sides. All the people in the background would fade away until only the two of us existed. His chest against my back. Warm and tender.

Even though it was just a harmless daydream, this one seemed different. Eric distracted the hell out of me without even trying. He never once gave me any indication that he might be interested in me, and yet I couldn't focus on my French class at all.

My favorite subject.

Thank God I could absorb it through pure osmosis.

"Cinq." Madame Waters prompted the class before calling on a random person. "Jess?"

I took a deep, calming breath before a tentative whisper fell from my lips.

"Il faut que je le revoie," I replied, my cheeks burning. I need to see him again.

"Comment s'écrit revoie?"

It took my brain a second to switch to the French alphabet before spelling the subjunctive form. Madame Waters gave me a pointed look but let me off the hook.

This time.

No more daydreaming about stupid crap!

Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed Eric casting glances my way. Not like a creep. Casual glances as though he wanted to make sure I was all right. Was it all in my head? It didn't mean anything, right? The kid hardly knew me.

Oh, who gives a rat's ass?

What the hell? This isn't me.

Eric didn't say he liked me, and yet I fantasized about him. That was weird. I didn't go around dreaming about boys. As cliché as it sounded, it felt like an outside force urged me to reach out and touch his hand. To run my fingers through his raven-dark waves.

It took all my strength to ignore it.

People like me don't feel this way, do they?

They don't rave about how a guy smells like citrus and spice.

Mm...

"Jess, ça va?" asked Eric in his deep baritone, jolting me out of my reverie.

Damn, I really need to focus. This is getting out of hand.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied in French. "Just a bit tired is all."

"Come work with Care and me," he said with a warm smile, "you can copy our answers."

To my chagrin, I'd sat dreaming there for God only knew how long. I hadn't even started the assignment. Care waved me over, and I pushed my desk toward theirs. Next to his.

That way I didn't have to face him.

"Thanks, guys. Sorry about this."

"I'm just glad we can help you for once," said Care with a smile as she reached her hand out to me. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"T'en fais pas," whispered Eric under his breath to me. "C'est rien."

Our gazes locked and a kind of energy surged between us. Not in any way sexual, but still powerful. Magnetism. Like those moments in movies where time stopped and lovers stared at each other like the world stood still.

Oh, my God! Just stop!

What are you doing? He's just a dude in French class.

"Yeah, I gotta finish this stupid worksheet." I spoke in English, too flustered to think in French. "Just give me a minute. Sorry."

I raced through the answers, double checking all of them and fixing a couple of missing accents. Somehow I managed to get through the class without a hitch.

When the bell rang, Care gave us some privacy, but not before giving me an excited look.

My stomach churned like a bowl full of snakes. It was now or never.

"Jess?"

Eric spoke in a quiet whisper so that Madame Waters couldn't hear us. We still sat with our desks together. So close. Close enough that I could reach out and touch him.

His hands. I stared at them. Why, of all things, did they attract my attention?

All my life people told me I should like muscles and strength. But that frightened me. It reminded me too much of her.

His long, thin fingers reminded me of that final scene in Nightmare Before Christmas when Jack walked up the mountain to meet Sally, intertwining his hands with hers. Perhaps I should have told Bryan about that scene as an example of what I hoped for in a relationship.

To be honest, I wanted genuine affection, a moment like theirs full of meaning and soul. Not with roses or diamonds or the grinding of frantic hips, but a real connection. Almost childlike in its innocence.

That thought gave me a vicarious thrill.

I'd look up at Eric, caught in a timeless moment in which the suspense would make my body quake. He'd come closer. Tiny movements. Painfully slow. Each one measured to make sure we were both ready. Until that one blissful touch when he pressed his lips to mine.

That soft, lingering caress would hold us for eternity. Eric would press me close to him like a beloved treasure as our hearts beat as one. My head against his chest.

My first real kiss.

"Jess?" he whispered again.

He must think I'm the biggest idiot. Staring off into space.

I nodded, unable to meet his intense gaze. So deep. Like a bottomless well.

What would I find if I tumbled down the rabbit hole?

"I—I have something to ask you," he said, lacking all of his typical confidence. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to." He swallowed audibly. "Or if you don't have time. Or—"

If he had any idea how much his deep voice gave me butterflies, Eric wouldn't have any cause for nerves. But he didn't.

It was my secret.

"Anyway," he said, "the point is..."

Eric's uncharacteristic anxiety gave me the courage to brave a look into the deep shadows of his soul. It intrigued me how his pupils melted into the irises, with a single pinpoint of light that reflected the overhead fluorescents. So much intensity swirled inside him: if I had to guess, I'd say a fierce determination mixed with trepidation.

Oh, God! It's happening.

He exhaled a deep breath, which carried a frantic tumble of syllables.

"Would you tutor me?"

I blinked.

Several times.

A laugh tickled my throat, threatening to burst forth against my will. It took all my self-restraint to keep it hidden.

From relief, mostly.

Eric wanted my help? With French?

Good God! That made him so nervous?

Why?

Then I put myself in his position. Thanks to his extra classes, he carried a four-point-two grade point average. Literally above perfect. A result marred only by his foreign language grades.

If I had his brains, I'd prize my intellect. It would take a crapload of courage to admit that I wanted help. Eric might have fought with himself for weeks over it.

"But you're so good at French!"

"Not as good as you."

His expression carried a fierce strength of will, and it hit me. Eric didn't want anything from me other than to improve his class standing. He didn't want to date.

For all I knew, he didn't even want to be friends. Never had I felt so relieved. And so utterly disappointed.

"I'll pay you for your time, of course," he added quickly thereafter. "I hear ten dollars an hour is standard, so—"

"No!" I said with an unexpected force that raised Madame Water's attention. When Eric shushed me, I lowered my voice. "I mean, yes. But no."

He raised a quizzical brow.

"Of course I'll tutor you," I explained, "but not for money."

"Please accept—"

"I've tutored dozens of students and never once took a penny from them."

"Start with me." He chuckled. "You could make a little business out of it."

I pursed my lips. "Is that even allowed on school grounds?"

He quirked his lip. "I can pay you off school grounds, if that makes you feel better."

My heart thundered against my ribs as I pictured Grandad holding up his forefinger, admonishing me never to meet Eric alone. But we wouldn't be alone. We'd study in the guidance counselor's office or in Madame Water's classroom.

We wouldn't leave school grounds. It wouldn't be like we'd study in each other's bedrooms.

"Please Jess," he said, all coldness gone from his eyes. "I need to be valedictorian, or my parents will—"

He stopped short, his words catching in his throat. My stomach churned.

"They'll be disappointed," he added.

Did Eric have a bad home? Did his parents pressure him to be perfect?

The thought made me furious. Eric is perfect just the way he is! How dare they?

"Let's make a compromise," I said. "I'll tutor you for free—"

Eric started to object, but I held up my hand to silence him.

"If you buy me my next German book."

He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. "A German book?"

"Every day I save fifty cents of my lunch money," I said. "It takes me two weeks to save up enough to buy my next book."

He raised his brow.

"But if you buy one for me, it would mean a lot."

Giving a thoughtful nod, Eric cupped his chin. "All right, let's do that." He paused and quirked his lip. "But don't you dare get the cheapest book just to get me off your case."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I teased him. "In fact, I'll find the most expensive German course, tapes and all. You know? The one that costs over a hundred bucks on the top shelf?"

He held out his hand ceremoniously. "Done."

"What? I was kidding!"

Eric didn't retract his hand. "Ten lessons for a German course."

"Eric!"

"Do you really want to say no to a brand-new way to teach yourself German?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No, I didn't think so. Come on."

"I feel bad."

He moved his hand nearer to me, insisting me to shake on it. I obliged with a broad grin.

"When's our first lesson?" I asked.

"Do you have time today? I want to get a head start."

Whoa! That's keen.

I shook my head. "Grandad's picking me up." I glanced at my watch and jumped up in panic. "Oh, my God! It's two-thirty!"

"Is that bad?"

"I'm almost half an hour late! He's gonna kill me."

Eric stood up, slinging his bag over his back. "Should I come to explain?"

"No! I mean, no thanks." I rushed to shove my things in my bag. "How about tomorrow after school? Is that okay?" I paused. "Oh, wait! Crap! I have to ask my grandparents."

Once again he raised an eyebrow like Spock. "You do?"

"Not eighteen yet."

"Ah! Strict family?"

I rolled my eyes. "You don't know the half of it."

He chuckled. "Well, make sure you convince them. There's a German course on the line."

"I'll do what I can!" I shouted as I raced out the door.

Oh, dear God! Let them say yes.

Now that I knew I had a shot of getting one, I needed that German course.