I froze mid–step with one foot literally hanging a few inches above the ground. A huge hand covered my mouth. I was yanked back and up, thowmp, against a man's chest, solid and hot.

He jostled me, grabbed me harder, knocking down almost all of the books I was carrying and pressing the last two into me, squashing my breasts and lifting me clear off the ground.

A primal defense kicked in. Adrenaline surged and I fought down panic.

"Whoa, easy." His voice was gravelly. He smelled like cut grass and sawdust. "What have you got? Some super radar in the back of your head? You sensed me. I thought for sure I'd sneak up on you and you'd never even know. Dang." He very slowly bent down so my feet were touching the floor again. "Got a little carried away there. You surprised me."

I surprised you? I thought.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.

Strangely enough, I believed him. Despite what just happened, he felt wonderful, friendly even.

"If you won't scream I'll take my hand off your mouth. Promise?"

I nodded. Then I tried to snatch a glimpse of him.

"Uh–uh–unh, no peeking," he said. He kept one hand on my chin and it prevented me from looking around.

"Sorry I startled you," he said.

I rammed my elbow back, slamming it hard into his ribs. I heard a crack.

"Ugh, that wasn't necessary. I said I'm not going to hurt you."

"You said that," I mumbled to myself.

I hugged around myself and grabbed both his arms. I folded down hard. I used momentum, putting my whole body into it. I whipped him over my shoulder, fast. He slammed into the cement. Unfortunately, he didn't let go of me. I had to roll with him. I ended up lying on top of him.

"Oomph," he said.

"Argh," I said.

The loud thowmp of his body hitting the pavement was soooo satisfying. Over 200 pounds smacked flat on the sidewalk; now that's gotta hurt.

We were stunned – him from the impact, me that the move actually worked.

I recovered first. I rolled over and sat on his stomach, straddling him. The neck ruffles on my favorite white cotton shirt were smashed. My navy ankle–length skirt rode halfway up my thighs. Not exactly intimidating.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm. Not. Going. To. Hurt. You."

He smiled – it wasn't pretty. His six teeth were a matching yellow to his six strands of hair. His nose was beautifully straight.

My mind was racing. Coming up blank. This guy was putting out some kind of pheromone – the kind that made me stupid.

"This is not my day," I said. Of course my damn cell phone battery was dead. Shit. I couldn't sit on him forever.

He grinned, showing a delightful array of gum gaps and one shiny silver–looking amalgam filling. I was not amused.

"I'm Billy Joe," he said. "Everyone calls me B.J."

I should run now while I have the chance. I slammed my butt into his stomach. It didn't do anything except make me feel better.

I considered punching him. I'd never straight out punched someone. I gave him a sheepish, disarming smile.

Then I bashed my head into his nose.

I mean, it had been too perfect, right? It made a horrible shattering noise. His nose started gushing blood. Did it break? I bet it broke. Oh, dang.

"Gugh. What did you do that for? I'm bleeding, aren't I? I am. I'm bleeding. You've ruined my T–shirt. I worked hard to get this shirt. It's ruined. You ruined it."

The next thing I knew he pinned me under him and had a cloth over my mouth and nose before I even saw him move. SHIT! Where the hell did that come from? Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

I kneed him, trying for his balls. He didn't even flinch.

How can anyone be so heavy? I lost strength fast. I struggled. Hard. The world went brown. The library building seemed miles away.

Then I blacked out.