AN: I've always had this kind of idea in mind, but since someone else posted the idea before me, credit goes to the author, baka deshi and their story Role Reversal. Theirs is much better than this--believe me. XD

Not What It Seems

He was always watching her; always waiting and smiling; always waiting and planning.

On his bike now, he rode it until he made it to the Higurashi shrine. There she was on the top of the steps, lithe form stumbling slightly when a friend jerked her back by the arm, another companion not inconspicuously pointing down.

He waved.

She waved back.

But he could tell it was reluctant.

The boy passed her friends on the steps as they descended, each girl giving him a pretty smile. Inwardly, he smirked; they wanted him, but he only wanted her.

"Higurashi," he said pleasantly.

"Hey, Hojo-kun," she returned, turning on that transparent cheery disposition. She was always lying to him. "What brings you here?"

He let his eyes narrow. "I want to know when you're going to stop."

"Stop what…?" Kagome replied, blinking.

He shook his head briefly, showing his exasperation. "When you're going to stop lying."

"Lying?" she breathed. "I haven't lied to you. Lying about what?"

"About everything," the boy murmured, hanging his head.

She placed her hand on his shoulder, bending a little to look up at him. "Hojo-kun…?"

He raised his head then, and kissed her. She was in shock, but her eyes fluttered closed.

"Hojo-kun?" she asked, feeling his arms wrap around her shoulders, bringing her closer.

"I can't wait anymore… I don't want to wait anymore…" he whispered against her hair, inhaling deeply.

Kagome felt her heart beat; the way his voice dropped to a husky baritone was familiar, the pain in his voice. It reminded her… She responded, wrapping her slender arms around his waist. Her fingers rested on the middle of his back; it was incredibly hot in that spot.

If she'd seen his face however, she would've gasped at the terribly intense way his eyes smoldered and darkened, the smirk that spoke of predatory desire.

And she would've known that this wasn't him—but the enemy with a burn in the shape of a spider.