*Avoids the tomatoes being thrown.*

Sorry!

*Dodges rotten cabbage heads.*

Really, I'm horrible sorry! Please forgive me!

*Now pineapples.*

Why would you throw pineapples—ouch! Ouch, ouch! I didn't even think they were in season yet!

Okay, really, really sorry for the horrendously long update. I'll try to be better.

That being said, this story is almost done. Get in your reviews while you can! :D

"Come on, Molly!" whispered Serena to herself.

She was hiding behind a few parked cars in front of the Crown Arcade. As the red head walked in fulfill the milkshake quest, Serena had been peeking over the cars trying to spot her friend returning with the acquired loot.

After a few people asked what she was doing—and whether proper authorities needed to be found to report the crazy girl—the blonde had forfeited trying to watch her friend come out and instead sat patiently.

"Come on faster, Molly!" she urged.

Alright, perhaps not that patiently.

It had been a rough day for her. A sleepless night didn't help her mind relax after...well, just after.

What did it mean? Was she just another name on his list? Did he feel how she felt? He couldn't have! It had been like time stopped and moved too fast all at once. She had felt his fingers pull her hair out of the buns while his mouth slowly moved against her own—but then she was playing catch up trying to remember when he undid the buttons on her shirt. And when they were on the couch...

She shivered remembering the sensations. How he finally got her to open her mouth and taught her how to play. Then his lips trailed down her neck sucking and nibbling against a tender spot. Her fingers rubbed against the mark he left. She felt branded to him. Blushing, she remembered making her own mark on him.

Her fingers felt dusty. Looking at them, she saw the make up on her finger she unknowingly wiped off from her neck. Did he wear the mark she gave him proudly? Or was he also hiding it like she was?

Ever since it happened—no, ever since she accidentally said his name at the arcade that afternoon—she had been wanting to forget the encounter.

Pretend it didn't happen.

She couldn't help it. When they were on that couch...

Her breath caught and she trembled remembering.

Molly was right: it was too much too fast.

Looking back at her fingers, she saw the flaky powder trying to blend in with her skin tone. Reaching back to her neck, she wiped off the rest of it.

She didn't want to forget it happened.

No, that wasn't it.

She didn't want to forget Darien. The man had haunted her existence since they met. She saw him regularly—most everyday now. And while had time away from him after she left the arcade, that was no longer an option.

He had taken up residence in her mind.

First it was just dreams at night. He had taken her favorite pass time of sleeping and she should be mad. She should be enraged. But she wasn't. She loved his presence whenever she laid down to slumber.

But now it was getting worse. While she rarely believed in doing homework at home, she firmly believed in doing schoolwork at school. Especially with a teacher like Haruna harping over her throughout class. But increasingly now, her mind had been wandering to thoughts of him.

It began with just hoping to see him later that day to wondering what he would think of her new skirt. Soon she was thinking of new ways to accidentally bump into him just to feel his hands as he caught her. And then her mind was imagining these scenarios. She would knock into him and he would save her just before she fell. His hands grasping her waist, holding her firmly. Pulling her closer. Leaning down—

"Hey!"

Serena's eyes shot open. Her head turned to the speaker. It was a little boy with freckles covering his face. He was waving a hand in her face.

"Uh, sorry," she said, trying to calm her breathing. "What'd you say?"

"I thought you were asleep," he said, turning to walk back around. "I just wanted to wake you up."

"Thanks," she said sheepishly.

She looked at the ground, trying to hide her blush. More than once she'd gotten a detention for being asleep in just the same way.

Today she had barely escaped detention and all she wanted to do was unwind with a milkshake.

Yes, she thought, think of the milkshake. Not Darien. Milkshake.

"Come on, Molly—"

"Serena!"

"Molly!" she screamed, jumping up. She gasped staring at the person who called her. Black hair. Dark blue eyes. "Not Molly..."

She froze, staring at him. He was only a few steps away from the arcade door. Standing on the sidewalk, staring at her. He looked tired—eyes a little darker, hair messier than usual, and clothes slightly wrinkled. She sighed knowing she didn't look much better—seems neither of them got much sleep after...just after...

He ran out of the arcade pretty fast—was he waiting for her? Sure they always meet up there, but did he make sure he was there at this time every single day just to spend time with her? Like she did. Did he look forward to their time together? Could he? Was this just wishful thinking? Maybe?

Serena took a deep breath, trying to get her brain to stop with the questions. It wasn't helping deal with the situation, just making her more anxious.

Licking her dry lips, she saw his eyes jump down to her mouth. His eyes narrowed on the spot, and she shivered felling his intense gaze. She saw his throat swallow. His mouth open slightly and then close. Was he trying to say something? Was his mind also as tumultuous?

Her arm rose, and she saw him capture that movement, too. His eyes caressing as she raised a hand to brush a few tendrils of hair behind her ear. And then his eyes moved back to stare at her own. She felt another shiver down her back, her toes curling in her shoes.

His dark blue eyes captured her gaze and she couldn't seem to pull away. She missed being near him. Being in his arms.

"Hi," he whispered.

His mouth moved softly, closing then opening, then closing again. As if trying to find a comfortable position. His feet shifted, but he didn't move closer.

"Hi," she whispered back.

She saw his eyes caress her face. His gaze wandering from her eyes, following up her bangs to stare at her hair buns. Her traditional hair style. She saw his eyes soften. His mouth smiled as he traced the strands of hair down to her cheeks. She felt heat warm her face as his eyes move to her lips.

His movements were small. Just his eyes capturing everything. They were slow and calculated. Like he was trying to memorize her.

She saw him move down to her neck. Stopping at the corner of her neck for a second, she saw his smile fade. His eyes turned intense again. Chest moving harder as he took in sharp breaths. She shivered knowing he could see the mark. His eyes narrowed on the spot, and then seemed to look past it. Heat warmed her insides as she knew he was remembering. Thinking back to when they...

He thinks about it, too. She sighed in relief at the thought. He also thinks back to when they kissed. Touched. Felt.

She could still feel his kisses on her neck. His lips on her skin. His hands grasping her steady as he...

Biting her lip, she tried to stop the moan from escaping. She almost yelped in pain at the pressure of her teeth, but she heard the soft sound escape her lips.

And he heard it, too.

She saw his eyes jump from her neck to stare into her own. They widened in surprise and then narrowed, as if keying on something he wanted. His face had that intense look again.

Serena shivered.

His chest expanded as he took in a deep breath. She saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

She let go a stifled breath she didn't even know she was holding. Biting her lip, she stared at him. His eyes glanced once or twice at her lips but he looked back into her eyes. Waiting for an answer.

"I—" She coughed into her hand, clearing her throat. "Yes," she said softly, nodding her head.

"Clearly?" he asked. "Can you hear me clearly?"

"Yes." She nodded her head again.

"Good," he said, nodding his head, too. "Then tell me no."

He took a step forward. Then another. Well on his way to close the distance between them.

"What're you—" She backed up, gasping as she knocked into a car behind her.

"Tell me no," he repeated. "Tell me to go away."

"I—what're you..."

She felt her heart race. Palming the car behind her, she walked along side it, keeping her eyes on him. He was gaining closer, his feet taking long strides to get to her. But he was walking, not running. Trying to remain calm. While she was panicking.

"Tell me to go away and I'll leave you alone." He stopped mid step. She saw his throat swallow again. "But," he said, his words tight, "but I need to hear the words."

"D-Darien, I..."

Her hand felt the back of the car. She looked back. The street was behind her, relatively empty. Looking ahead, there were cars parked. Then the sidewalk. Then Darien.

She inched back, trying to get her legs ready.

"Don't you dare—don't run," he said. "Not before giving me an answer—"

"W-we can talk later—"

"No," he said, shaking his head. He slowly moved closer. Careful. Trying not to scare her. "We should talk now. We need to talk now—"

She took a step back. "But—"

"No buts." He was getting closer. "We really need to talk."

"I..." She took deep, heavy breaths.

His hand touched the car. "About last time—Serena!"

She bolted.

Legs racing as she heard him call her name.

People whizzing by as she just ran. The wind pushed against her, willing her to slow down. But no. She ran.

Ran back up street she and Molly came from. They were planning on going to the park. Planning on avoiding the arcade. Planning on avoiding Darien.

Funny how plans suddenly change.

The park was this way—she could see the blurs of trees and flowers up ahead. She could make it. Spend the day at the park and and not have to think about—

She gasped feeling the solid arm. It wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a familiar chest. His other arm came up to her chest, holding her back straight against his front. Her toes scratched the ground, trying to get their footing as he dragged her up his body.

Burying her face against the side of his neck, she groaned. "Again?"

He clutched her tighter against him. His head leaned down to her ear as he chuckled. "Yeah," he said smiling. "Deja vu, alright."

They were in this position just recently. Both couldn't help but remember the events that occurred last time he caught her.

"Get off—get off—get off!" She struggled against his hold, her arms pushing backwards while her legs kicked ahead.

"Hold still—ow! Meatball Head, quit it!"

"I don't want to do this," she cried, head butting him backwards. "Just get off!"

"Do this? What do you mean? Do what?" he asked. He held her tight, squeezing her back against him, holding her arms steady so she couldn't elbow him anymore. "Be with me? Is that what you're saying?" He sighed as he asked the question. "You don't want to be with me?"

She stopped struggling. "I..." Her body shivered as she leaned back against his hold. "I don't know..."

"You don't know if you want to be with me or not?" He felt his heart race asking the question. Could he have a chance with her? Could he convince her to give him a chance?

He felt her forehead rub gently against him. Her shoulders shrugged in his hold. "I don't know what I want..."

She was probably still spooked, he thought. He needed to calm her down first.

"Yeah, I can get that." He rubbed her arms as he talked, his thumbs making small circles. "This is all new."

Nodding her head in agreement, she relaxed more against his hold. This was so new for her; Darien at least had past relationships to draw from.

"So maybe we should talk?"

"—now? Right now?"

He pulled her back and leaned forward. The hug was warm.

"No time like the present," he said gruffly. The sooner the better for him. In his mind's eye, the sooner they talked, they sooner they could be together. "Please," he added.

Serena held her breath, mulling over the request. He was right: they did need to talk. She couldn't handle this—she could barely handle how she felt for him before this happened. But to talk so soon?

Then again, it was better to talk now instead of spend days, maybe weeks, mulling over everything. More sleepless nights. More days avoiding the arcade. More days avoiding Darien...

"Not the apartment," she blurted. She couldn't handle that again. Not now. Not so soon.

Darien froze at the request. "Agreed." All he could think about was how she looked at him after last time. He'd pay his life savings not to have her stare at him like that again. "Park's just up ahead."

She paused for a moment.

It's a public place, she thought. Plenty of people to stop us if anything happens. Besides, she was planning on going to the park anyway. Just the company would be different now.

Alright, perhaps not just the company.

But the park was a safe place. Good choice.

"Park," she said, nodding in agreement. "The park's good."

She felt him release her slowly. Arms moving out as her back slid down his hard body. Thick fingers grasped her waist, holding her steady in front of him. Her own fingers grasped them. She shivered at the warmth they provided. Her intention was to move them away but now just held on.

She gasped as his thumbs caressed her. Heat spread from the simple movement, her body shivering.

"Hey!"

Both their heads turned to the speaker. An elderly woman in a knit sweater.

"You two okay?"

Darien dropped his hands, letting Serena go. Instead of seeking distance, she stood where she was. Leaning into him slightly, giving the image of the perfect couple.

"Just fine," replied Darien.

"We're okay," said Serena, nodding her head in hello.

He turned to her, folding both hands behind his back. "Park?"

Serena inched her eyes up to his face. Past the strong torso and wide shoulders. She reached his deep blue eyes and held her ground.

Taking a deep breath, she sealed her fate.

"Yes."

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It was a short walk to the park. Following the sidewalk, they walked side by side. Their arms tight against their bodies so they wouldn't accidentally touch.

Darien walked slower than his usual pace, making sure he lagged behind enough that she could keep up. He didn't need her reminding him she was shorter than him with smaller legs.

Soon they were in the park. Swing sets and jungle gyms a few feet away with children clamoring joyfully. A pond to the left with fish and birds swimming lazily. A garden to the right with plentiful flowers and trees growing all around.

There were park benches everywhere, some with couples sitting, bodies close and comfortable. Parents reading books as children played. Friends joining for a late lunch while watching the ducks.

They both stopped seeing an empty bench. Here? Do they talk here? Public enough for sure. But private enough for a talk?

Darien turned to her. "The garden?" His eyes glanced at the colorful place of greens and a rainbow of flower colors in question.

Serena followed his eye movements and thought for a moment. She was always comfortable in the garden. It was always a place she could open up and be at peace with herself.

Turning back to him, she nodded her head in agreement.

They took the path into the garden. Vegetation surrounding them, placing them in a different time. A forgotten moment.

Roses bushes grew from all sides. Pink, white, yellow. Red. Red roses.

A nearby cherry blossom tree flowed in the wind, scattering pink flowers with its dance.

They stood a few feet away from each other. Staring at the ground at each other's feet.

"So," started Darien. "How've you been?"

She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "Okay." Stealing a glance up at him, she saw his fingers rubbing against the mark on his neck. The mark she left him.

Her fingers were rubbing her own mark on her neck.

"This is too fast," she blurted.

His eyes jumped to her own. He saw the panicked look on her face. Her hands shaking as she stared at him. Eyes wet with unshed tears.

"Meatball Head," he said softly, coming closer.

Her body jerked back, muscles stiff. He could feel the anxiety coming off of her.

Putting his hands up in reassurance, he stopped moving.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I know you're a little spooked about everything." He cringed knowing it was an understatement. Cringed knowing he put her in this position. Knowing he should've handled things better last time.

But he wasn't going to dwell on that. They'd both move on from that. They had to.

"Th—that..." She cleared her throat and moved a few strands of hair behind her ear. "That was the first time I...I ever..."

He nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah. It must've been a bit intense for you..."

"Very," she said, nodding vigorously. "I've never felt like that."

"It can be a little scary," he said with a wry smile.

"But," she looked up at him and bit her lip, "but not for you; not all that scary for you."

"It was pretty intense for me, too," he said, rubbing the back of neck. "The feeling's definitely mutual—"

"But you've done it before," she said.

He could hear the hint of anger in her voice. Jealously? He bit his lip, trying not to smile. She was already so possessive of him. And he liked it.

"Yeah," he said nodding his head. "A few times—"

"More than a few times," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Many times."

"Doesn't make this," he lifted his chin between the two of them, "any less intense."

"Maybe," she shrugged her shoulders and looked past him, "maybe you're better off with one of them. One of your—your regular girls."

His eyes narrowed. "What're you saying?"

"I...just..."

He took a step forward.

Her eyes widened as she saw the feet move. Jumping back to look at him, she saw the raw determination in his face. She shivered, but took a step back.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, taking a step forward. "Don't ever think I'll hurt you."

"I-I really don't think," she said, taking another step back, "think that y-you and I should..."

His legs moved forward. "Don't think you and I should what?"

"J-just that we shouldn't—" she let out a small gasp feeling the trunk of the tree behind her.

Looking up, she saw his face a few centimeters away from her own. He moved so quickly, closing the distance between them without even her noticing. There was a small sound as his hands held the tree trunk next to her head, caging her in. His warm breath heating her, mixing with her own short, sharp breaths.

"Just," he said, articulating the words with pristine clearness, "that we shouldn't what?"

"I..." she said, taking deep breaths. She swallowed twice. "Just that you and I..."

"We?" he urged.

"We..."

He grunted and let out a sharp breath. "If—if you don't want us to be together, just say the word."

She looked up at him, eyes widened.

"It's your decision," he said, staring into her eyes. "Don't feel like I'm forcing you into anything. You say no and I'll leave you alone; won't bring it up again and we'll—we'll be like old times. It's your choice."

"My choice," she parroted.

"Your choice, Meatball Head," he said, nodding. "If you don't want to be with me, just say the word. No questions asked. But if there's something else bothering—"

"I can't make you happy," she blurted.

His eyes widened in surprise. Her own eyes were shocked at her admission, her hand clasped against her mouth to stop more words from exiting.

"W-what?" he asked, shaken.

"I—I meant—just that..."

"Just that what?"

"I...you're..." She shut her eyes, wishing the moment to pass. Better yet, let this just be a bad dream. She didn't need this to be reality.

"Meatball Head," he said, tweaking one of her hair buns. "It's just me. Just Darien. We tell each other lots of things. Tell me," he urged, scratching her scalp playfully. "Please."

She looked up at him, biting her lips.

"Y-you're used to-to," she shrugged her shoulders, looking away. Her cheeks pinked. "To doing things with your-your girlfriends."

"Doing things?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What're you—"

"You know," she shrugged again, "things. Touching and...and things."

Darien thought for a moment. "Oh," he said, nodding in understanding. "Right. Used to doing things."

"Yeah," she said, nodding her head. She was sure her face was bright red. "I-I can't give you that, so it would be better if we—you and I..." she shrugged, leaving the statement unfinished.

"I see," he said softly.

"Last time," she said, biting her lips, "last time, I don't know what happened. I don't—I don't usually—not ever...so it would be better if you found someone that could—that would—"

"So you don't think you could make me happy," he said, "because you can't give me—you and I couldn't do...things? Am I getting that right?"

She cringed but nodded her head. "S-so you can take it back," she said, shrugging, "take back asking me anything about—about us..."

"No."

Surprised, she looked up at him. His eyes were narrowed. His face that intense look again. Determination.

She shook her head no. "I can't give you—"

"I'm not asking you to."

"But you're used to—"

"Not good enough," he said, leaning in.

"W-what...?" She pulled her head back as far as she could to the cherry tree.

"Not a good enough reason," he said, following her, "to not pursue this." His face a hair strand away.

"You want us to—you and I to..." She bit her lip.

"Yeah," he said softly. He let go of the tree trunk and held her hands with his own.

"But we couldn't—I mean, we wouldn't..."

"Not a problem," he said, shrugging.

"N-no," she tried shaking her head. Their noses touched at her action. "I won't change my mind later—"

"I'm not asking you to," he said calmly.

"Later you can't try to convince me to—"

"I won't," he promised.

"But you're older—you want—"

He rested his forehead against her own. She gasped at the contact. Warmth spreading through her, relaxing her twittering heart. She looked into his eyes, finding him looking into her own. Blue against blue.

"You," he said. "I want you." He pulled her hands between them. "I want us."

"But—"

"But nothing. You're the girl I want."

"But I can't give you what you want—"

"I don't want you think I want—"

"But you have in the past!" she protested, shaking her head. "And when I can't give it to you, you'll just move on. You'll—"

"Meatball Head," he said, holding her delicate face in his hands. He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, smiling as she shivered at the action. "You're the one I want. It's always been you."

"But—"

"No buts. I'm not going to leave you because you want to wait. Not nearly a good enough reason to leave you. Ever."

"Are you s-sure?"

"Very," he said. "Waiting isn't a problem for me."

"You're being very accommodating," she said, warily.

"I'm not saying yes now just to change your mind later."

"I can trust you on that? Definitely trust you?"

"Of course. Because, one," he counted, tapping her cheek, "I'm not always a jerk; I can be a nice guy." She smiled up at him, agreeing.

"Two?" she asked

"Two," he tapped her other cheek, "no means no. That's all there is to it."

"That's why you wanted me to say no."

"Exactly." He nodded his head. "A girl says no, I drop my hands and leave. No explanation necessary."

"Okay; good to know. And three?"

"And three," he whispered, rubbing both her cheeks. "Three: you're not the girl someone just has a fling with."

She drew in a shallow breath. He probably felt the racing heartbeat against her throat. "Oh?" Her fingers clutched his shirt, balling the fabric in her hands.

"Yeah." He looked into her eyes, willing her to remain eye contact. "Meatball Head, you're the kind of girl a guy marries."

He saw the surprise on her face. The panic crawling its way into her veins. "Wha—?"

"Not now," he said, chuckling. "I'm not proposing right now. I'm just saying it."

"You're saying that one day you and I will..."

"Unless you have objections, of course."

"I guess...well..." She pursed her lips, failing to hide her smile. "Impossible to run against fate."

"Wouldn't dream of trying," he said, smiling back at her.

"But—but until then," she asked, her shoulders stiff, "you're willing to—to..."

"Until then, we wait," he said. "Simple as that." His hands dropped to her shoulders, slightly massaging to relieve the tension. "Nothing to feel sorry or guilty about."

"Right," she said.

He heard her agreement but still felt the tension in her shoulders. Her face also lost the smile and she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Meatball Head," he said, rubbing her cheek again. "Really, I'm okay with this. Look at me." He tugged her chin until she looked at him again. Blue against blue. He couldn't help but smile seeing her stare at him so close.

"Serena," he said, catching the hint of her smile as he uttered her name. "Serena." He repeated it, hoping to see the smile again.

She let out a small laugh. "What? I'm right here."

"Good. I like that you're here." He bumped her nose with his own. "Now," he said, his face serious, "I want—no I need you remember this: don't ever feel guilty for asking us to wait."

"Yes, but—"

"No buts," he said. "We're not doing anything until we both feel comfortable."

"Even if—if you want..."

"I want to be with you. And I want to make sure we don't rush into anything."

She bit her lip, thinking of last time. "Yeah."

"Yeah," he said, sighing. "That time, it was..."

"It was nice, but..."

"Yeah, but indeed." He closed his eyes and she could see him mouth the numbers one through ten. Willing himself to calm down.

"Something wrong?"

His eyes shot open. "Yeah," he said softly. "Very wrong. I need to apologize—apologize for last time."

She looked away and shrugged. "I didn't say no."

"Maybe," he said, "but you didn't say yes either."

"I guess, but—"

"No buts. You didn't say yes, and when stopped, you felt..."

Her shoulders stiffened again.

"Exactly," said Darien. "I don't want you feeling like that again."

"So," she said, looking back up at him again, "what do we do?"

"We take it slow," he said, pulling back. "A comfortable pace for the both of us."

He stepped away from her, holding out a hand for her.

She looked at the outstretched hand. Glancing up at him, she saw his warm smile. It held promise and affection.

Grasping his hand, she moved forward, standing next to him.

"Yes," she said. Nodding her head, she smiled back up at him.

They walked out of the garden, hands clasped. Their arms brushed against one another as they walked together on the sidewalk.

"Where to?" asked Darien. They were almost out of the park.

"Maybe the arcade?" she asked

"Maybe," he said, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, "but then we'd have to talk to Andrew about everything..."

"And Molly's there, too," added Serena.

Darien shrugged his shoulders. "It's not that I don't want to tell everyone..."

"Too much excitement for one day," concluded Serena.

He looked at her and nodded his head, smiling as she completed his sentence. His thought. His life.

"I never even got my milkshake," groaned Serena.

"Right," nodded Darien. "That's what your friend Molly was in there for."

"Yeah," she said, shoulders slumping.

"Well, if you want," said Darien, warily, "we can go to my place and I could make you a drink."

She looked up at him, surprised.

"Just for a drink, I promise..."

"I guess," she said, shrugging, "it might be good to go back there—scene of the crime and stuff."

"Might help us move on," he agreed.

"Just no funny business," she said, sticking out her tongue.

"Scout's honor."

She squeezed his hand as they walked to his place.

"You know," she said, "I've always wanted to be a Scout."

01100010 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101011

"It'll be good?" she asked, sitting at the kitchen table.

Darien was heating up milk in a saucepan, ravaging through his cupboards for the final ingredient.

His muffled voice came the cabinet his head was in. "It'll be delicious," he promised. "Just as soon as I find—aha!"

Pulling his head back out, he held up a large dark chocolate candy bar.

Serena yelped out of her chair, running towards him. "I've never seen one this size before!"

It was the size of her forearm. Thick and wrapped in gold foil.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Can you open it while I stir the milk?"

Stirring the liquid, he laughed hearing the rushed sound of paper ripping. She waited no time to take the wrapper off the chocolate.

"Im'fs goodf," she said, her mouth full.

"Don't eat all of it," he laughed, chuckling.

Turning around, he saw her breaking the candy bar into pieces on the counter.

"Can I put them in now?"

"Yeah."

He made room for her, stirring the pot as she dropped in individual pieces.

Minutes later they were both seated at the kitchen table drinking cups of hot chocolate.

"This is really good," she said, sipping joyfully.

He nodded his head in agreement. "It's not a milkshake but I thought you would like it."

"I do." She nursed the sides of the cup, rubbing table nervously. "So," she began, "is this what people do?"

"People?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know," she said, shrugging, "people that are...together."

He smiled, feeling his cheeks heat. "Yeah. They do that. Couples."

"Couples," she repeated, smiling down at her cup. "We're a couple."

"Has a nice ring to it."

"To us?" she asked, raising her cup.

"To us." He clinked his cup with hers. Putting down his cup, he ran the rim of it with his finger time. "So..."

"Hmm?" she asked, sipping.

"Couples also talk," he said, smiling. There was an evil glint in his eye.

"Right," she said, putting down her cup. She looked at him warily. "Was there something you wanted to—"

"Well now that you bring it up," he said, leaning in closer, "I am a bit curious about something."

"Something about me?"

"Yeah."

"Do I have to answer it?"

"Well," he said, "only if you want your hot chocolate back."

"Hey!" she cried, reaching for the cup as he swiped it away from her. She groaned as he held it out of her reach.

He crooked a finger at her. She eyed her hot chocolate, currently in Darien's captivity. Sighing, she gave in and leaned forward from across the table, resting her elbows on the table to reach the distance.

"Tell me, Meatball Head," he said, a devil's smile on his face, "what exactly are these dreams I keep hearing about?"

What did you think?

Sorry if it's not as steamy as some of you wanted but in reality, those hard and fast relationships don't last very long. I wanted more for our favorite couple! :D

On a different note, any one else having trouble with ? It's been acting a bit funky for me as far as signing in and what-not.

Anyway, please leave a review! Nothing keeps an author typing like being pelleted with kind words and encouragement.