"Angel." he groaned.

"Don't call me that," I snapped.

He ignored my question. "Baby, I don't smoke cigars."

"Oh yeah? Explain the smell of smoke on your clothes!"

"It's called aftershave." He smirked.

"Sure. Because aftershave smells like smoke.."

"It can."

"Whatever."

"You have some serious trust issues, you know that?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes. "No. I just don't believe you."

"That's because you have trust issues. We've been over this."

"Can we just get to work, please?" I asked politely.

"There's the angel I know and love," he winked.

Once again, I rolled my eyes. Can't he just flirt with someone else?!

"I want to take you out for tacos tonight..." He trailed off.

"Tacos?"

This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, Lettuce, Cheese..."

"I know what a taco is! Besides I don't go out with strangers!" I huffed.

A wink. "Good thing I do. I'll see you at Mario's for tacos at five. Don't be late, sweetheart."

And with that, the bell rang. He strutted out of the class and I sent invisible lasers in his direction. Damn you, Harry. Damn you to hell. Besides, Sweetheart?!

For all I know, he does smoke cigars. And possibly cigarettes. Maybe he secretly owned a dog fighting business- or worse. A strip club.

Or, maybe he secretly wears tightie-whiteys. And has toy story posters on hid bedroom walls. And maybe he drives a Prius.

And maybe I'm a dumbass. It's so obvious, Tinsley! He has tattoos, Kaitlyn said he sleeps with multiple girls, and he's already on my kill list. He has royally pissed me off.

But I have a 'date' with him. Scratch that. A study date. To complete our paper. Yeah. Ok.

Watch out, Styles. Chemistry is coming your way.