"I must say," said Elizabeth, looking deep into my eyes as she spoke, the browns of her own a deep, dark chocolate, "it's been absolutely lovely catching up with you, Evan."

"Yeah, it has been," I said, taking a long sip of my drink.

Elizabeth sipped her martini slowly as she looked up at me, a stray strand of blonde hair curving over her delicate features.

"It's such a shame that you're heading back to the states tomorrow," she said, finally speaking. "It would be quite the coup to have you on our crew for this next dig."

"Believe me," I said, "I'd love to get right into another site, but I've got so much material with this dig that it's going to take me a good year to sift through it."

"Well," said Elizabeth, "if there's one thing those of us in our line of work are good at, it's sifting."

I let out a small snort at this corny little pun.

"So much for the sophisticated sense of humor they say you Brits have; I thought you'd be above puns."

"You'll find that there's not much I'm not afraid to get down with," said Elizabeth, leaning closer to me as she spoke.

It was clear what she wanted. Elizabeth and I had already indulged in a fling one weekend years back, and I knew right away what was on her mind from the moment she walked up to me. But I was hesitant; something about it just didn't seem right, though I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

"I sense hesitation," said Elizabeth, her hand now on my thigh. "Let me see if I can make my argument a little more persuasive."

Her hand moved up further, her touch eventually grazing over my cock through my slacks. I sat upright at this, slightly taken aback by her boldness.

"What's the matter? I didn't think that you Americans were such prudes."

"It's not that," I said. "It's just…it doesn't feel right."

"What on earth does that mean?" asked Elizabeth, simultaneously amused and annoyed by my behavior. "too good for a quick fuck in the parking lot?"

"No," I said. "It just…I don't know."

Elizabeth removed her hand from my tight and sat back, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Surely it's not that doe-eyed little co-ed that you had at your side? Evan, I never thought you'd be the type to indulge in such a fashion."

"There's nothing going on between us," I said, now feeling a little perturbed. "And there's nothing going on between you and me, either.”

I thought the matter over a little more.

“You know what? It's been lovely talking to you, Elizabeth, but I think I'd like a little time alone now."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open a bit, her red lips in a slight O of surprise, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Well," she said, standing up, "I'll give you all the peace and quiet you need; you're not the only eligible bachelor here tonight, you know. Have a wonderful evening."

With that, she darted away from the table and back inside, leaving me to just what the hell had happened, and why. I sat for a moment trying to sort out my thoughts, finishing my beer and enjoying the solitude.

After a time, I went back into the bar to look for Roxanne. Scanning the packed room, I spotted her at a small, secluded booth with Sam, one of the other interns from the site. To my chagrin, my heart sank a bit when I saw that there was some mild flirtatiousness happening between them. But I put these thoughts aside as I went for another drink, remembering that anything happening between her and I wasn't a good idea.

But when I returned with my drink, I saw a different scene when I glanced over at Roxanne. Sam seemed to now be in her personal space, getting closer than it appeared Roxanne was wanting. I saw his hand fall on her thigh, Roxanne moving it right away, only for him to put it right back, his fingers crawling down to the hem of her skirt. Roxanne's face was now one of fear and anger, and it was clear that Sam was taking things further than Roxanne wanted.

Setting my beer on the bar, I marched over to the booth.

"Everything good over here?" I asked, looking down at the pair.

Roxanne looked away, as though in shame.

"Yeah, Professor McCall," said Sam, his voice slurring. "Just havin' a relaxing night, you know?"

But his dopey, drunk-eyed expression was a stark contrast to Roxanne tight, fearful face. It was clear what was happening.

"I think it's time to call it a night, Sam," I said, reaching down to grab his arm.

To my shock, he jerked his arm away.

"Hey, don't fuckin' touch me," he said. "I saw her first."

Now his face was hardened in the way that only a stupid drunk boy's could get.

"Last chance to come to your senses, Sam," I said, glaring down at the kid.

"Fuck off," he said, his tone both edged and slurred.

"As you like it," I said.

Reaching down and grabbing hard onto his upper arm, I yanked him out of the booth and dragged him across the bar, the eyes of everyone nearby on us. Sam struggled, but his strength was no match for mine. I approached Professor Lincoln Sharpe, the head of Sam's team.

"I think one of your students is getting a little out of line," I said, looking into the Professor's aged face.

"He's makin' shit up," said Sam. "He's jealous."

Professor Sharpe shook his head, as though not surprised by Sam's behavior.

"I think it's time we got you back to the hotel, Samuel," the professor said. "Apologies for my student; it won't happen again.

I let the professor know that all was good before turning my attention back to Roxanne. Grabbing my beer from the bar, I slid back into the booth where she still sat. She was a little shaken up, but as she calmed down the more I sat with her.

"You OK?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, shaking off the last drops of her stress. "He seemed like a nice dude at first, but the more he drank, the worse he got."

"That's college guys for you," I said, realizing as soon as I said the words that I was trash-talking guys like Sam as compared to, well, guys like me.

Roxanne threw back the last few sips of her drink and stood up from the booth.

"You care if we go for a walk?" she asked. "I don't mean to be a buzzkill, but I think I'm about ready to get out of here. For a little while, at least."

"Sure," I said, a walk sounding good to me.

I guzzled down the last third of my beer and stood up. After saying my goodbyes to the rest of the team, I walked out to the back porch with Roxanne, then down the stairs that led to a wide alley between the buildings. It was a nice path, the ground paved with cobblestones and lit with soft, orange lighting, almost like an alleyway from a century ago.

Our steps echoed down the alley as we walked, the evening air clear and warm.

"You know, I could've stuck up for myself," said Roxanne, her voice taking on an edge.

"Oh really?" I said. "You know, I'm responsible for you here, and I can't really take any chances when it comes to you being pawed at by idiot drunk kids."

She stopped in her tracks. "Well, you didn't need to step in like you were my dad or something. He was being an idiot, but you didn't need to make a scene."

"I ended a scene before one started. And you didn't seem to be handling the situation so hot on your own. Besides, did you really expect me to just stand there and watch?"

"I don't know; you seemed pretty interested in that blonde British girl," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Please," I said. "You're acting like a child."

"Well, I'm not a child; I'm an adult capable of making my own decisions and handing myself."

"Then you've got a really funny way of showing it."

Roxanne opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and stomped a foot on the ground. I knew that she was just throwing a little bit of a tantrum over me bailing her, a grown adult, out of a situation like that, so I was fine with letting her get it out of her system.

But as she stood there, I examined my own motivations for why I did what I did. Sure, I was responsible for her in the most technical sense, but there was more to it than that. I felt protective over Roxanne, like it was my duty to keep her safe in a more meaningful way.

Then a felt a small pang in my heart, like a tugging. This feeling signaled a realization to me, a truth breaking loose and making itself known: I was jealous. I hated the idea of that little twerp putting his hands on Roxanne. Looking down at her in that alley, at her small frame before me, at her big green eyes staring at me with some strange mixture of anger and passion, I knew what I had to do.

Slipping my hand behind her head, placing my palm on the cool, delicate skin of her neck, I leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss seemed odd at first, as though I had simply leaned in to give her a hug and a slight slip placed my lips on hers. Our bodies stiffened, and neither of us seemed to know what to do with our hands. But soon we found our pace. My kiss was chaste at first, but soon I allowed myself to fall into it, to place my hands on the curves of her hips, to allow one hand to move around her back and to come to a rest on the top of her backside.

Soon, my blood began to race, and our grips on one another became more firm. My hand moved from the small of her back to her rear, and our lips parted as our tongues sought one another's. We began to kiss harder, the passion that had been building for the last several weeks breaking through like the water finally crashing through the small crack in a dam. I pushed her back against the wall of the alley, her arms spreading up and over her head, her hands searching over my body. I did the same with mine, allowing my touch to move over the curves that had been enticing me ever since I saw her that night in her towel.

Her hands then made their way up my shirt, the soft touch of her fingertips dancing along my stomach as they moved up and up. Roxanne then became bold, her right hand moving along my waist, then down to the front of my pants, where an erection was already straining against the fabric. She moved her fingers over the bulge, teasing me, shivers running up my spine as she did. I returned the favor, moving my own hands up her shirt over her flat, smooth stomach, up towards the hard bottom border of her bra. The other moved down between her legs then up towards her sex, the side of my hand rubbing her through her jeans. I couldn't help myself. I wanted more and more and-

The sound of footsteps down the alley from the direction of the bar broke us apart. We ceased our kiss, and continued the walk that had been interrupted. Without a word, we made our way down the alley, a faint fog having gathered, surrounding our illicit passion like the haze of a dream.