He strides over to me, his expression stern. "Okay." "Okay what?" I ask, utterly perplexed. "Okay, we're dating." I glance down at the note he's passed to me, feeling my heart sink into my stomach. "Oh, no, no," I stammer, "that wasn't from me. It's not mine." His gaze hardens as he looks at me. "You handed it to me. You gave it to me. We're dating." Lord, if you're listening, strike me down now. "Wait, I really didn't write that," I plead, but he doesn't listen.