I watch her. I can't help it.

Not that she seems to notice, though I don't know how she could miss it.

It's probably pretty creepy, the way I stare at her, but there's not much I can seem to do about it. She's the most fascinating person I've ever known. I've known that for years, though, since the first moment we met. She's so full of passion and life. She's infinitely intriguing. All I want is to be around her all the time.

I'm lucky, in a way. She lets me get away with it usually. Of course, it's just as a friend, which drives me up a wall, but at least I get to be around her. We hang out, usually with Harry, and we do stuff like shoot pool or play poker. One wouldn't think that, because she's so hot-tempered, that B'Elanna would be good at a game where it's important to have no tells, but her poker face is pretty amazing. When credits and rations are on the table, she's as calm as a sunny day on the holodeck. It's fun, though, being able to spend time with her and to get to know her, but it still feels like she wants to keep me at arm's length.

It's maddening.

The moment I ask her to do something with just me, I'm rebuffed. If we're working on something for the ship, it's not a problem. She'll spend hours on end with me without a second thought. But the moment I ask her to dinner—not because we're in the middle of working and we need fuel to go on sort of way, but in a way that it would mean just the two of us enjoying each other's company, where I pick her up and take her to the holodeck—she refuses. She somehow manages to be polite about it, but she leaves no room for second-guessing.

That never seems to stop me from asking again, though. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. It doesn't seem to matter how many times she's turned me down—and I've stopped keeping count—I ask again. I guess I just have to hope that she'll accept at some point. I would have thought I'd have gotten tired of pining away for this woman—I've seldom pined in my life, and that's only ever been for a few days. A week, tops. I'll pursue a woman for as long as it takes, whether that means she finally goes out with me or I get a definitive "no." I suppose the closest I've come to pining has been with Kes, but even then, I didn't chase her around constantly, and I certainly didn't focus all of my efforts on her all the time. Hell, I'm not entirely sure I didn't want her simply because I knew she was completely unattainable…and to irritate Neelix.

B'Elanna's a whole different situation. I just can't give up on her. I keep trying to convince myself to, but every time, I'm just drawn back to her. It doesn't help that it feels like she sends me mixed signals. I suppose I could just be imagining it, but I don't think I am. She'll tell me "no" for a date, but she's almost always on board to spend time together after hours, at least in a group. The first time I asked her out, she wouldn't stop smiling. She turned me down, very kindly, actually, but she smiled. It was almost like she was…not flattered, not exactly, but maybe happy. Maybe I just caught her off guard, but it was all the encouragement I needed to ask her out again.

And again…and again.

I'm pretty sure I'm not actually harassing her—I feel like she'd have no trouble at all letting me know if I was really bothering her. I just want to be around her. Half the time, I don't even mean to ask her out. It just happens. We'll be talking, working, whatever, and she'll look at me differently than normal, or her hand will just barely brush against mine, and all of a sudden, I'm asking her to dinner. Again. And she says no. Again. With a smile. A small, delicate curve of her lip that seems to say that she's happy that I asked, or at the very least she thinks I'm a little cute.

She flirts with me, too. I'm sure she'd deny it, but she does all those things that girls do when they want to let a guy know that he's not completely wasting his time. Stupid stuff like crossing her legs in my direction, or tapping her foot against mine, or sitting next to me in the Mess Hall, or reaching out and touching my arm when she wants my attention, and not letting go once she has it. She'll look up at me from under her eyelashes, bite her lip, then look away. Hell, she even laughs at my jokes. I'm not that funny. The only explanation I can think of is that she kind of likes me. Or, at least, she doesn't hate me.

I have to admit, I was well and truly shocked when she agreed to this almost-date tonight, even though "date" is a really optimistic word for it. Eternally-in-love-with-the-wrong-girl Harry—though who am I to judge on that front?—and drier than a desert Vorik make for horrible chaperones. Still, I figure that if it got B'Elanna to the luau, it's a small price to pay for a night in her company. She even put on a dress for the occasion. I almost didn't know what to do with myself. Most of us rarely wear anything but our uniforms, so to see her in something not only outside of standard regulation, but in something so girly almost did me in. Just that alone was definitely worth having Harry and Vorik with us.

Somehow, though, Vorik of all people managed to turn this event into a date with B'Elanna. I still don't know how that happened. All he did was say he'd reserved a table for the two of them and she went. The little weasel.

If I'd known it was that easy, I would have done it myself ages ago.

Maybe she likes him.

No. No way. Not judging by the look on her face when he announced that he had a cozy little table with a view of the lake just for them. And if the expression that's been on her face for last hour or so is any indication, I have no reason to worry. Not about Vorik, at any rate. Any time he's happened to glance away from her she's met my eyes, looking vaguely horrified and more than a little bored. I've tried to give her encouraging smiles—not too encouraging, though—and she seems to appreciate it.

I figured I'd at least have Harry to keep me company for the evening. With the both of us having women troubles, I assumed we'd commiserate and maybe manage to cheer each other up. No such luck. Pretty early on, Harry went to sulk in his quarters and I was left to my own devices on the holodeck, glowering in a corner.

I'm fairly pathetic by this point, but at least I can admit it.

I let out a sigh and down the rest of my drink—some fruity, sweet concoction that has nowhere near enough alcohol to make it bearable. With nothing left to distract myself, I settle for watching B'Elanna again.

She really does look nice tonight. Pretty. Not that she's isn't always pretty, but tonight it's like she's aware of it. All I really want to do now is find a way to create more occasions for her to wear something other than her uniform.

I can't see a whole lot of her where she's sitting right now, but it's enough to drive me wild. Her shoulders are bare, the neckline is low, and her legs are crossed to the side—definitely away from Vorik. Her legs…I take a moment to look unabashedly at what I can see from my angle. I like it. It's good. The skirt isn't terribly short, though it reveals enough of her toned muscles to let me know I just want to see more. I wouldn't even say she looks sexy, though truth be told, I think she looks sexy in an environmental suit. She looks…charming.

I shake my head, closing my eyes for just a moment. Charming. I'm losing my edge. Since when does Tom Paris get turned on by a woman's shoulders and calves?

Since he met B'Elanna Torres, that's when. I'm so pathetic.

I open my eyes again just in time to see her shift, her legs rubbing against each other just for a moment, and I think my mouth actually starts to water. I'm such a letch, staring at her like this, like she's a piece of meat. Really, I should be thrown into the brig for being such a pervert. It's just that this is a side of B'Elanna I never get to see. It's killing me that I don't even get to enjoy her company right now.

This is where I need Harry. He's the only one I've told about my feelings for B'Elanna. Not that I came out and said anything, but he cornered me. He told me I was on the verge of making a public spectacle of myself, and that's when it all poured out of me. It was a relief to have someone to talk to, honestly, and he's been nothing but encouraging about me pursuing her. The Harry Kim stamp of approval. Of course, he's warned me about hurting her—I know he's felt brotherly and protective toward her since they met. Not that she needs protecting, but that's just Harry. If he were here right now, at least I'd have someone to force me to stop staring at her like a creep.

I grab my cup and bring it to my lips, groaning in frustration when I find it empty. I briefly consider forking over the rations to replicate something stronger, but push that aside just as quickly. If I start down that path tonight, I'll wind up doing something really stupid. Like picking a fight with Vorik, or telling B'Elanna how I feel about her.

I blink in surprise when I see her standing next to her table, looking as if she's trying to extricate herself from conversation. Vorik doesn't seem terribly eager to let her leave, but she manages anyway. I feel myself perk up a little—maybe this evening won't be a complete bust.

Unfortunately, she only manages to go a few paces before Freddie Bristow "bumps" into her, nearly setting my teeth on edge. What a chump. What a slimy little bastard. Doesn't he know she's not interested in him? Hasn't she made that clear to him over the last few months?

I laugh mirthlessly to myself, shaking my head. The same could easily be said for me, truth be told. I too am a slimly little bastard that can't take a hint. But Bristow is so…pushy. He's always hanging around Engineering or wandering over to talk to B'Elanna in the Mess Hall, usually while she's eating with me and Harry. It's just rude. I don't know why she hasn't knocked him out.

I suppose there's the vague possibility that even though she said he was a child, she's interested in him. It doesn't seem likely, since she never spends any time with him, but that doesn't mean she can't find him appealing. She certainly doesn't seem to be distressed that he's accosted her. She has her head titled back to look up at him, she's smiling at whatever he's saying, her hands are…clasped behind her back. I breathe a sigh of relief, sending a silent thank you out to the universe.

That's one of those "keep away" pieces of body language. It's not as bad as crossing her arms over her chest, which would be completely closed off, but it's definitely not an invitation. Maybe she's just being polite to him and the conversation happens to be far better than whatever Vorik was talking about. Maybe she likes the attention. She probably doesn't realize it, but she's quite the eligible bachelorette. I'm sure she'd hate that, and would hate even more being described that way. Doesn't stop it from being true. She's beautiful, brilliant, passionate, and people notice. They know they want to figure out how to get close to her. She's desired.

Naturally, the fact that she doesn't see it is what drives all of us in her fan club crazy. She's fairly oblivious to her appeal.

How the hell am I supposed to compete with all of that?

I shake my head as Bristow leans in toward her, smiling in what I assume he believes to be a charming manner. She backs away just a fraction, but it's enough to make me relax a little. Even if I'm wrong about the hands behind the back thing, I'm not wrong about her leaning away from someone. She's definitely not interested in him. No way.

Bristow gestures, and I'm not sure if he's suggesting they go for a walk or dance or for something else altogether, but she shakes her head firmly and ducks under his outstretched arm. Part of me—a very, very small part—feels bad for the guy. I of all people know what it's like to be turned down by B'Elanna. Then again, when she turns me down, she doesn't usually leave the immediate vicinity. At least I have that over the guy.

She grabs a couple of cocktail-filled pineapples off of a passing tray and, in an impressive display of footwork, manages to duck and spin away from the crush of people around her before sliding into the chair next to me. She pushes one of the drinks over to me before dropping her head on the table dramatically, groaning.

"You all right?" I try to play it casual. I don't want to let her know just how thrilled I am that she's sitting with me.

She lifts her head, giving me a look that makes me laugh. She looks around to see if anyone's listening before scooting her chair closer to mine. She props her elbows up on the table and clasps her hands, leaning her cheek against them to hide her mouth, I'm assuming in case anyone who can read lips happens to wander by. "Vorik is so boring," she whispers to me, her eyes wide.

I chuckle, taking a sip of my drink. "It's 'cause he's a Vulcan," I answer flippantly, but she shakes her head.

"No, that's not it. Tuvok is actually quite interesting, if you take the time to listen to him, but Vorik…I don't think he understands what small talk is."

"Well, then what have you two been talking about for the last couple of hours?" I can hear the edge sneaking into my tone, and she gives me an odd look before continuing.

"Honestly, I haven't been the one doing the talking. It's all him. He's been talking almost exclusively about Engineering since we sat down. It wasn't bad for the first half an hour, but I don't think he knows how to talk about anything else. When he ran out of things to discuss, he started telling me about theoretical problems he's created, then explaining, in great detail, how he's solved them."

"Sounds positively stimulating."

She sighs, grabbing her pineapple. "At least I learned one thing from the whole conversation."

"And what's that?"

"That I can sleep with my eyes open." My drink almost comes out my nose as I snort with laughter and she grins at me, casually taking a sip of her own drink. "Having fun?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Oh, yeah. It's a blast."

"What's wrong?"

I want to tell her that it's because I've been crazy with jealousy all night, but I don't think she'd respond well to that. "Harry decided to leave just a few minutes after he got here, so I haven't had anyone to talk to all night."

She looks around the crowded holodeck dubiously. "There was no else to talk to?"

I shrug, leaning back in my seat. "I don't have that many friends, B'Elanna."

She rolls her eyes, giving me an exasperated look. "You have more friends than just Harry," she points out. "There are plenty of people here right now you could be talking to."

"Fine. I guess there are only a couple of people I wanted to spend time with tonight."

I don't think she buys it. She's still looking at me as if I'm ridiculous. "So why didn't you leave?"

"I didn't want to seem antisocial."

"Antisocial," she repeats slowly, and all I can do is grin at her. "You're impossible."

"All part of my charm."

She smiles at me, a small smile out of the corner of her mouth, and I nearly forget my name. I don't understand how it's possible that something so simple can do that to me, but it happens all the time. "Sure it is. We'll call it charm."

I clear my throat and shift, finding it almost impossible to look at her right now without getting down on my knees and begging her to give me a chance. I nod my head in the direction of the table she managed to vacate, where I can see Vorik glancing around, as close to impatient as Vulcans get. "How'd you manage to get away from your handler?"

"He had to pause for air at some point, so I said, 'Excuse me, won't you?' and walked away. It was much easier than giving any other reason for it."

"Impressive. You should consider a career in diplomacy."

She snorts, taking a sip of her drink. "I should. I'm definitely the face of the Federation. I never get mad and fly off the handle."

"I've never met anyone calmer or more collected than you."

Her eyes roll but she smiles despite herself. "The only problem is that he probably thinks I'm planning to come back, and the thought of going back over there makes me want to jump out an airlock."

"Well, why don't you tell him that? You've never been one to mince words, B'Elanna."

"This may come as a shock to you, but I don't actually like being rude to most people, especially my staff. They're easier to work with when they're not plotting my death."

"I hope you're prepared to stretch those diplomacy muscles," I mumble, irritation filling me as I see Vorik heading in our direction. "Here he comes."

"Shit," she hisses, turning her expression into a smile as the Vulcan stops in front of our table. "Hi, Vorik."

"Lieutenant," he replies stiffly. He turns to me, and it's probably my imagination, but I'd swear he bristles, almost sneering. "Lieutenant."

"How's it hanging, Vorik?" I ask, and B'Elanna kicks my foot under the table. I think I do a good job of not letting on that it feels like she broke a bone or two. He, on the other hand, just stares at me, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. I'm sure he's never heard the expression before, but he's likely assuming that it doesn't mean anything good.

Not surprisingly, he chooses to ignore me. "Lieutenant Torres, if you're ready to continue with our conversation."

Nope. Subtlety is not his thing. "I'm sorry, Ensign," she answers, forcing herself to smile brightly. "I've been very rude to Tom this evening. I should spend some time with him, too."

Vorik looks very put upon, but nods anyway, almost as if in understanding. "Very well," he answers, reaching for a chair. "Our topics of discussion will likely be of little interest to Lieutenant Paris, however—"

B'Elanna's eyes grow wide as she realizes her plan has backfired—instead of taking her gentle hint and leaving her alone, he decided that he would just join us. Not exactly what I had in mind, either. "Actually," she says, standing up so quickly her own chair almost goes flying backward. "Tom just asked me to dance. Didn't you, Tom?"

A/N…I really intended for this to be a one-shot, but then I started writing. And writing. And then I wrote some more. Anyway, it's long enough to break into multiple parts. I probably could have done four chapters, but there's the issue of finding a stopping point for all that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy my attempt to delve into the mind of Tom Paris.