Don't Date Your Nemesis... and other helpful hints for the modern Supergirl

Hint 1. Rules are made for Breaking

"I know it's difficult to stand so close to greatness, Ms Kurtis, but I would be much obliged if you could keep your eyes on the job at hand." Docklen smiles, only turning to face me as he finishes the sentence.

oh shit.

I flush immediately, cursing my complete lack of decency. I've never been subtle - when we were ten, my brother took to calling me bulldozer and the nickname was so apt my friends still use it to this day. And now Inspector Jack Docklen, the man from the tv, has caught me drooling.

"I shouldn't have to be here babysitting you," I huff, disguising my embarrassment with frustration.

He's actually even better in real life than on the news. It's... intoxicating. He's like a piece of art. A warm piece of art, in uniform, with soft lips and broad shoulders. I like shoulders.

Jesus, Maya, he's your boss now.

His grin only grows at my reply and he turns back to facing the scene before us. I make a distinct effort to stop thinking about him.

It's moments like these when I really hate my job. Police officers scurry around the perimeter of a grey, blocky skyscraper, the downstairs of which, on a normal day, hosts a large branch of the City National Bank. On a normal day. Today it hosts between four and eight armed gunmen and twenty-three civilian hostages.

I fold my arms angrily. I'm Sapient+, special government operative S+489002, created to break through the boundaries of human capability and out into the realms of the surreal. I could be inside that building and back again, with three hostages in tow, all in less time that it would take for Jack Docklen to spread that smug smile out across his perfectly chiselled jaw once again. If the government had any kind of flair I'd be rocking it in tight leather and heels too.

Instead I'm stuck here, in heavy kevlar, watching people shout ineffectually through plastic megaphones.

"You look... discontented." Docklen cocks his head and a thrilled shiver runs up my spine at the sudden realisation that this time, he's the one watching me.

"That's because I am discontented," I mutter, not catching his eye.

They're blue, his eyes. I know this already. I've stared longingly into enough newspaper photograph versions of them to be quite sure.

Boss, Maya, remember? Control yourself. Jesus.

Docklen smiles more, leaning in before he replies.

"Me too," he whispers, nudging my arm with his elbow. Those blue eyes sparkle playfully as I turn to him in disbelief.

"What?"

He shrugs, straightening up again. His gaze returns to the slick, professional, passionless, police manoeuvre in front of us.

"I just feel like a proper police force should recognise its special talents rather than squander them away, disguising them in amongst all the rest like they're no different. It's a waste, you know?"

I crease my brow suspiciously, watching the expression on his face for any indication of laughter. I've only known the man ten minutes but it already feels like everything he says is slightly mocking and I can't quite tell if he's making fun of me.

Docklen grins, flashing his teeth, before turning away so fast his ruffled hair flicks out from his head.

"Constable," he shouts, gaining an air of professionalism, of superiority, that has been suspiciously absent until now.

A junior officer nearby starts in surprise. He turns warily, only to be caught in the full power of Docklen's charm. I force myself not to laugh as Docklen strides forward shamelessly, clasping his hands behind his back.