<strong>James, in Detention</strong><br/><br/>He watched her every reaction. He didn't realize that he was staring, not until it would be too late. Either she would give him a weird look, meaning that she, in her mind, quickly classified him over as a creeper, or she would blush and look away, meaning that she wasn't quite ready to be stared at by him just yet. Both ways, he wouldn't realize it was happening until irreparable damage was in place. He felt the odd electricity too, kind of like a static spark that passed between them, but it didn't make him want to jerk his hand away suddenly. Quite to the contrary, in point of fact. He wanted to take her hand, and, well, see if the feeling grew with the more skin in contact. But of course, he wouldn't do that, as urges like that tended to get one laughed at, and sometimes worse stuff. His hand traveled back to the desk that he was sitting on, and he fidgeted a bit, wondering what her answer was going to be.<br/><br/>He almost jumped when she spoke out loud. The silence, punctuated only by the scribbling on the paper and whatever odd noises that would break out as one of them reached for a paper, or maybe some sort of low exclamation to what the other had written, had seemed unbreakable until that instant, and he looked up, catching her gaze with his eyes, and throwing it right back to her. He was forcing himself to stay calm, and he was worried that she might hear his heart beating. It seemed rather loud in his ears.<br/><br/>He snapped out of it, and realized that she had said something. He forced an outward calm over himself, as to not look like a complete geek... or was it dork? The names got all fuzzy in his head," Well..." He started," That's awesome. Which artist do you like to listen to?"