Chapter 1


Moana Waialiki was tired.

No, scratch that. She was exhausted. She had left work at 7:05pm at night – much later than she had anticipated – her feet hurt, and her head was pounding after having spent the last five hours crammed in her office, tackling her numerous articles that had upcoming deadlines sooner than she had expected. Not only was she exhausted, but she was hungry.

Starving actually.

Maybe it hadn't been such a wise idea to skip lunch after all. The rumble and protest in her stomach was proof of that.

So to say, she was exhausted, and she was starving.

Oh, and not to mention, she was annoyed too.

Her publisher and boss, Gothel had assigned her to write one of the most peculiar articles she could ever think of; and that required her to travel to the most high end café's, taste every single mocha and latte they had and write about which café sold the most divine latte's or mochas out there. The thought of having to complete this article only increased the anxiety and exhaustion to ache all over her. And a grimace had found its way across her features.

Why her boss had to come up with the most superficial ideas to write about was far beyond her.

But then again, she was Gothel; the wealthiest woman in small town of Vancouver who owned a four story mansion. Even her choice in wardrobe practically screamed Rich! And for Moana, she could only assume that it was one of the perks of having a boss that was so engrossed in nothing else but materialism.

It was bad enough already that she had been assigned to write the most ridiculous articles beforehand. One of them being the battle between fur coats and leather jackets. She remembered having to conduct a survey of how many women preferred which over the other, and truth be told, it was one of the most horrific experiences she's ever encountered in her life. And the thought made her cringe.

Another had been which she was required to taste every single Bubble Tea in China Town and she was to write which one of fifty flavors was the most delicious. Moana had recalled those unpleasant moments where she nearly gagged with each sip that she took, and she remembered those times where she ended up wasting a whole $7.00 worth of Bubble Tea each time.

And now, it was on to the ultimate battle. Mochas vs. Lattes.

Not that she was even a coffee person in general. In fact, she hated coffee. She hated the bitter taste it left on her taste buds, and the smell of the roasted, dark coffee beans left a foul smell to her nostrils. So all in all, she had absolutely no idea how to she was going to survive having to taste twenty different flavors of mochas and lattes put together. And she dreaded the thought of having to complete such a task.

Gothel was completely mindful of Moana's dislike for coffee. Most of the times, Moana would always have to ask herself if Gothel was assigning her these articles as a means to genuinely challenge her intellect? Or if she was flat out being spiteful and cruel.

"Lattes and Mochas?" She had a questionable look on her face that morning. "That's what my next assignment is?"

"Why of course, dearie!" Gothel had chirped with a devious smile. "What? Did you think that I was going to give you an article to write something about…." She scratched her chin in mock confusion, leaning casually back in her chair. "Oh I don't know! The ocean? Or the islands perhaps?"

A wheezy sigh slips past her lips. How much she would've adored to have written an article that would require her to travel the globe. Savoring the feel of the warm molecules of sand squishing between her toes, the glossy water blanketing her feet, the smell of fresh fruit and the warmth of the tropical breeze blowing delicately in her face, through her hair and-

"So boooring!" Gothel's shrill voice broke through her thoughts. "No imagination whatsoever!"

She grimaced, biting back the comment that was mere inches from falling off her lips. "Pardon me, Gothel, but don't you think that writing about mochas and lattes is a bit…..superficial?"

The dark haired woman straightened her spine, fixing her employee with a frown and a cock of the eyebrow – proof that she had some sort of facial work done.

"Superficial?" The corners of her mouth had raised in amusement, her freshly manicured fingers clasped together. "Miss Waialiki, are you questioning my authority all of sudden?"

"No! No, no, no! Absolutely not! I jus-"

"Good! Then you will have no problem writing this article then, will you?"

"I guess not."

"Excellent!" She had eagerly handed her the papers which Moana took numbly. "I expect this article to be ready for me by next Friday!"

"Next Friday?" She jumped. "Uh – but – Goth-"

"On my desk by 9:30am, sharp! No ifs, ands or buts! No excuses and absolutely NO later than that!" And she had grabbed what was left of her hazelnut mocha from her pit stop to Starbucks, and dismisses her with an impatient wave of her hand. "Now, run along!"

Moana had reminded herself to add Gothel to her 'five things to make me stressed' list. And somehow, Gothel was definitely going to find herself right at number one.

So now she sat in Nemesis Café that was located on 32 Hastings Street West in the crowded city of Vancouver, looking slightly disheveled and purple bags coating her eyes – proof of her being deprived of sleep. She had not taken her eyes off her laptop for the past forty minutes that she's been here, and still, the only thing staring back at her was a white, blank document, and a cup of mocha coffee – which was now cold – to add to the picture.

She sighed, a heavy sigh. She managed to take another sip of the mocha, made a face and pushed the cup aside. She forced herself to consume a latte earlier on and she had to everything in her willpower not to allow the bitter aftertaste of the semi-sweet milky liquid to make its grand entrance from the contents of her stomach.

The buzz from her phone vibrating on the wooden table drew her eyes from her laptop. An incoming call from the last person she expected, and the rate of her heart beat gradually sped up. She reaches for her phone, the device resting in her palm of her shaky hand, hesitating whether or not to press that 'green' button. Chewing on her lip, she does just that.

"Hello?"

"Moana! So glad I was able to get a hold of you." She knew that voice all too well. The same voice that was a memory of her childhood. "How've you been?"

"I've uh…." She ran hand through her soft curls. "I've been managing…"

"Managing?" The woman's voice on the other end dropped to a note of concern. "Just managing?"

"Oh! Did I say managing?" And she suddenly became mindful of the error in her answer. "I meant to say that I've um, I've been good! Great actually!"

"Yea? You haven't been spreading yourself too thin I hope?"

"Of course not. I've been fine!"

There was a pause on the other line. A long one. Much too long for Moana's comfort.

"Moana, are you sure you've been alright?"

"Yes, yes! Of course!" She forced a chuckle through her teeth. "Why would you ask that?"

"Honey, you sound kinda…stressed out a bit." The woman spoke carefully. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Of course! Totally and perfectly fine!"

Again, there was a heavy sigh on the other line. And the woman spoke. "Okay, well that's…good I suppose." And a shuffling on the other side told her that she was in the process of filing papers. "I was just calling to remind you about your check up for tomorrow."

"Oh yes!" Moana mentally scolded herself having nearly forgotten of her appointment for tomorrow. "For 11:30am, right?"

"10:30, Moana…." The woman corrected, doubt was in her tone but she pushed it aside. "I'll be seeing you then, correct?"

"Right! Yes! 10:30!" She went to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Got it!"

"Alright, well if anything comes up, please make sure to give me a call?"

"Of course. Thanks Dr. Parr. I'll see you then."

And the phone clicked. Both lines having made their exits. She stared at her phone in the palm of her hand, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. Unresolved tension had now made its entrance, and she immediately felt the beat of her heart dangerously begin to increase. Even her own doctor knew how bad of a liar she was. After all, the evidence was present with each word that slipped past her lips.

Not only was this damned article allowing the stress inside of her to invade her organs, a call from her doctor reminding her of her appointment was the last thing she wanted to worry about this point. Deep down, they both knew that it wasn't just any random checkup that needed to be dealt with.

She pocketed her device and attempted to go back to tackling that darned blank, white document that still stared back at her; sitting tall and proud, taunting. And her only response was to glare right back at the blank screen before her fingers went to typing animatedly on her laptop.


Maui, at the time, was neutral.

He had arrived to Vancouver a week ago to begin his position at his new job. The job was pretty straight forward, since he's been working in a bank for pretty much his entire life. However, it was a matter of him getting used to the Canadian currency and following the Canadian legislation and so forth. Considering the fact that he's pretty much travelled the entire globe – he even lived in Germany for about a year and a half – if he could adapt to the European legislation in the span of five minutes, then adapting to the Canadian legislation would be a breeze in the park.

Not to mention, the Canadian citizens seemed much more polite. Friendlier even. Much more pleasant than his American clients whom he's had to deal with in the span of two years since the time he lived in New York City.

Majority of his clients back in States were either too brazen, or just flat out pain the asses who clearly would choose never to listen to his advice when it came to financial aiding. Which is why most of the times, they would end up in major debt, and then they would complain to him that he was nothing but a useless financial advisor who didn't give a shit about them or their finances.

But Maui was the type that could care less.

Once you decide to dismiss him and take matters into your own hands, then you were literally on your own.

Typical New Yorkers.

Thankfully, his Canadian clients were more knowledgeable when it came to their financial aiding. Not to mention, they seemed to be more independent as well. Which only made his job easier and less stressful. That, Maui could definitely not complain about.

His boss, Robert Parr, head and CEO of the company that he worked for, was an alright fellow. Usually kept to himself, but he always made sure to keep a good eye on his employees. Not to mention, he would go out of his way to make his employees, and even his clients feel at home. Maui didn't have a problem with him. So far, he didn't seem to have a problem with anybody. But that was only considering that this was his second day on the job and already he was keeping up with the pace and meeting the procedures.

But then again, Maui was never usually one to really pay attention to anyone. Or even really acknowledge anyone. He wasn't much of a people person, which is a bit ironic considering his position. But they were only his 'clients'; meaning that these were people he was forced to communicate with on regular basis. But once 4:00pm hit, Maui was a man of his own. A stranger to everyone, and not really one that had the likes of mingling or making small talk with people.

So to say, it wasn't a bad day in the beginning.

Maui, now however, was frustrated.

By the time he had finished his day at work around 4:00pm, he had expected his real estate agent to be on time for their scheduled meeting. The meeting had been for 4:30pm. The real estate agent had arrived at 5:30pm.

Punctuality was something that Maui took seriously. It ran in his family and luckily for him, he was quick to pick up on it and he had adopted that trait. There was never a time in his life where he was never not late, or had to deal with anyone who was tardy. So today, when his real estate agent showed up an hour and a half late, Maui had to do everything in his power not slam the door in this man's face, send him away and request another agent.

But because unfortunately this was the only day and time that Maui's schedule was clear, sucking it up and professionally discussing business was the only choice he had left. So, he went along with it.

Two seconds turned into two minutes. Two minutes turned into two hours.

It was now 7:30pm. And two long hours later, Maui was on the verge of just about drop kicking this man to Mars. If it hadn't have been for the fact that he was currently living in a crappy motel at the moment, he would've gladly have done so without a second glance. Unfortunately, Silver Star Motel had a strict policy against their guests throwing their real estate agents out of windows.

"For the thousandth time, sir, I'm only going to be living here for a year." He said through clenched teeth. "I just need something that will last me for that amount of time at a reasonable price."

"Well," The man adjusted his square rimmed glasses – two sizes too big to fit on his round, bald head. "The cheapest we can provide for you, Mister Mory-"

"Maui."

"Yea…anyway…" He gave a wave of his hand, flipping through the papers. "If you're looking to buy, then the cheapest amount for a down payment would be between two and four hundred thousand."

"Okay, look, you're not listening." His thick fingers went to pinch to bridge of his nose. "I told you already that I'm not looking to buy, I'm just looking to rent."

"Yes, yes, I'm quite aware of that."

"Honestly, I don't think that you are."

"Well, Mister Maui, I've already given you many options. There's not much more that I could do."

"You've got to be kidding me." He muttered, raking his fingers through his tangled locks. "Look-"

"I've already said what I needed to say." The man throws his papers in his brief case and flicks his wrist to check his watch. "My time is up."

"But I told you, I need a place to rent. I cannot afford to buy-"

"And like I've already said, for the thousandth time, Mister Maui, the cheapest we can offer you is between two and four hundred-"

"But I don't have that kind of money right now!" The meat of his palms slam on the wooden table with a loud 'thud'. "And truth be told, you didn't leave me with many options!"

The older gentlemen cleared his throat, adjusting those annoyingly large rectangular glasses as he tries to soothe his now thudding heart that was mere seconds from jumping through his chest and heading straight for the emergency exit. He stands from the chair, brief case tucked under his arm, pot belly poking through his white dress shirt that was clearly two sizes too small to fit around his round body. Maui could've sworn he saw a glimpse of perspiration sliding down his bald head, but then again, the perspiration had been evident the minute he opened the door and allowed this man to step foot inside his crammed motel room.

"My time here is done." The man says, lips curling in distaste as he points his chin high in the air. "You have three days to make your final decision."

Maui said nothing as he dragged a hand down his face and groaned into his sweaty flesh. He said nothing as that pompous of a man waddled out of the room without another word and closed the door shut. He had many chances to just reach over that little table, grab that roly-poly midget of a man by his coat collar and haul him out the window. Maybe then, that would teach the man how to be more knowledgeable and understanding of his situation. And to be a little bit more….human.

Sure, he would finally be out of his crappy motel room that he's already spent most of his pay check on. But the only downside is that he would've been charged for second degree murder and thrown behind metallic bars in a raunchy jail cell for the rest of his life.

So to say, maybe it was a good thing that he didn't go through with his 'plan' to have put that man in his place.

Some real estate agent he was.

Clearly, it looked like he was going to have spend another night in this lousy motel. Maybe even another week. Or possibly another month. Just his luck.

Maui made sure to make a mental reminder to himself to send in his review to the manager of the Silver Starr Motel ASAP. For a motel that had three and half out of a five star rating, if it was up to Maui, he would've rated this dump a big fat ZERO out of five.

It wasn't like he was exaggerating. The place was indeed a train wreck. The room he had been staying in for the past week since he's been here was way too small for his comfort, there was barely enough space for him to breathe. The closet was so tiny that he could only fit two measly outfits in there – so to say he was pretty much living out of his two massive piles of suitcases that he had no choice but to cram on the pullout couch.

Not only that, but there was absolutely NO cable or any type of WiFi that was present in his room. Or in any other motel room in this building. Apparently the motel had a policy where all of their guests were required to pay $6.99 a day if they wanted to use cable for television or WiFi for the internet. Of course, Maui thought that was complete bullshit and he refused to do so – which always resulted in him having to use the local library to complete his tasks that needed to be completed for his work.

And that wasn't the best part.

The mattresses on the beds were lumpy – they made the pullout couches seem much comfier – which was the main cause of those tangled muscles that latched onto his bones in his back. The bathrooms weren't as clean as he would've liked them to be – there has already been three spiders he's had to catch and kill within the past week. The walls were not sound proof – which resulted in him having to hear things next door that he did not particularly want to hear at three or four o'clock in the morning. The sheets on the bed left a rather a distasteful smell to his nostrils, the windows were moldy and dusty, and the rest of the residencies were loud and rambunctious.

So to say, he had easily wasted his money on seeking temporary residence at such a disastrous place. The downside was that he couldn't get it back. Not only that, but the room was definitely not smell proof either. Spicy Pad Thai from the little Thai place that was just down the block left a rather greasy aroma that lingered in the air. Not to mention, the perspiration laced with the residue of sweaty gym socks and smelly alligator shoes left an unpleasant stench. So if one was curious to know how the mixture of those three senses smelled like together, then you were definitely in for a rude awakening.

Maui groans again. His fingers peeling from his eyes as his line of sight trailed to the old, wooden nineteen fifties looking clock that sat on his dusty end table.

7:40pm.

The grumble in his stomach protesting that his belly needed to be filled with more food, considering the last time he ate was around forty thirty. He tried to push the thought of hunger from his brain, his gaze venturing to the now overflowing garbage dispenser that was piled up from numerous "Take out" containers of Spicy Pad Thai, Pizza boxes, frozen microwave dinners, and the list goes on.

He slumped in his chair, sighing heavily. Clearly not in the mood for having to turn to another night of "ordering in" once again. His body couldn't handle the amount of grease and fatty acids and toxins for another night. He was definitely positive that he probably gained at least twenty to twenty five pounds, which was something that Maui was not fan of.

But his belly needed something. Some sort of food or liquid product, just so it could eventually shut up and leave him the hell alone for the rest of the night.

However, considering the evening he just had with that lousy real estate agent, Maui knew that he would need to stay up later than expected so he could make some more calls to any other real estate agent who was reliable and dependable.

'A coffee would do, I suppose.'

He was going to need the caffeine to stay awake anyways, so why not?

After all, he wanted to get out of this place. He needed to get out of this place. And he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that he does. Even if he did need to throw a real estate agent out the window.

He lets out another sigh, searching around his shitty room and locates his wallet sitting beside the television. Lifting his body from the chair, he grabs his wallet, his jacket and his keys, makes sure to shut the lights off and makes his way out the door.


It was already 8:05pm. How the time managed to race by like the speed of lightening Moana would always ask herself? She would never have the answer. But that wasn't something that needed to be worried about. The important thing was that she had at least gotten somewhere with that damned article of hers.

Key words being at least.

It wasn't as long as she had wanted it to be. The white document that was deviously blank not too long ago now had some various phrases and different word choices on there.

At least she managed to fill half of the page. Meanwhile, the other half still lingered with its blankness. Taunting her in the most patronizing way, almost provoking her to pound her fist through its screen. And she was tempted to do so. However the other part of her decided that it would be best to remain civil and to preferably not have the other customers and employees think that she was some psychotic lunatic.

After all, the circles underneath her eyes – turning darker by the minute – didn't do her justice. Nor did her tangled locks and flushed skin. So to say, maybe it was a better idea to not physically assault her expensive electronic device while there were still witnesses present.

A yawn was out of her mouth before she caught it. Realizing that her mind and body could only take so much thought and willpower before the exhaustion was alive and well in her system. She surveyed her surroundings and noticed that she was the only customer that was left, seeing how all the others were smart enough to go home and get a good night's rest.

But then again, neither of these other customers were under extreme pressure to write and produce a measly article about lattes and mochas. Unlike her, they probably enjoyed these types of beverages on a daily basis. Bottom line was, they wanted to be here. She on the other hand, did not.

So to say, it was a bit of an unfair advantage on her part.

She went to balance her throbbing head in the palm of her hand, eyes squinted miserably at the half blank document that still lingered in her line of sight. Still, at least there was some progress that was made. That was the good part.

The bad part however was the fact that this was only the first of many other cafés she still had yet to venture to. So to get a better sense of this, she still had a long ways to go. And truth be told, half of a page was just not going to cut it.

She sighed, a wheezy sigh. Part of her tempted to just suck it up and continue to come up with any bullshit she could think of. However, her brain was practically screaming 'if I have to sit here and be forced against my will to come up with any more foolishness I can think of? Then I will gladly shoot laser arrows through that computer screen for you!'

'But I have to get this done by Friday next week!'

'Oh boo hoo! You're not the one that actually has to do all the brain work, darling! I DO!'

'Must you always be so sassy?'

She rolls her eyes. Finding herself going somewhat mentally insane that she was partaking in a battle between her mind and her herself.

'Excuse me? You know I get cranky when I don't get enough sleep!'

Her gaze ventures to her cellular device. 8:10pm. Without a second thought, she closes her laptop shut and begins to gather her stuff. Clearly her mind had won this battle. She needed sleep, and she was going to need lots of it. Especially since for all of next week she will be out of her office for majority of the day taste testing various mochas and lattes.

'Oh fun….' She dreaded, sighing another heavy sigh as she gathered the rest of her belongings. Eventually, she remembered the mocha – which had gone cold hours ago – still standing proudly on the table. She made face, wondering if it would be wise idea to just get rid of and never have to see that thing again, or to just suck it up and drink it. After all, she always hated having to waste food or any type of beverage. Not to mention, having to waste her own money.

She glared at the object, only to have it grin viciously back at her, far too smug its own chocolatey goodness. Her hands grasp the cup, and she miserably drags it towards her, fixing it with a piercing glare.

"You'll be the death of me….." She mutters.

Meanwhile, how Maui found himself at Nemesis Café, the most prestigious and expensive cafes on the planet was beyond him. But then again, it was also the fact that this café was only a five minute drive from his motel. For the week since he's been here, not once did he ever think to step foot into any sort of coffee shop. He had always been used to the idea of making his own coffee and preparing it the way that he himself preferred. The thought of spending more than three dollars on just a meager cup of coffee was not something that sat well with him.

That, and the fact that he didn't always trust if the employees were clean or not.

But because of the crappy day he had after having dealt with that idiot of a real estate agent – which he is now regretting whole heartedly that he didn't throw this man out the window – part of him just thought 'fuck it, I need some caffeine in my system right now'.

On the outside, Nemesis Café was small. Well, small was a bit of understatement. On the inside however, it turned out that there was indeed more to Nemesis than meets the eye. The room was much larger than Maui would have expected it to be. Now that it was night time, the lights were slightly lower than they had been before. They were bright, but not to the point of blindness. It just right. The dimly lit lights casted a slight shadow over the room, enhancing the beige walls with a unique and dingy glow. There was still music that was playing, for he could pick out the undertones of a smooth jazz ballad. The aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans left a rather pleasant smell to his nose.

The tables were spotless, the floors sparkling and there was nice area where soft cushion couches were evident in his line of vision. And the fireplace crackled with delight.

Thanking the Gods that this place was much cleaner than he had anticipated.

And plus, the coffee beans smelled great.

Maybe there was an upside to going out for a coffee every now and then.

"Hi there, what can I get for you sir?"

"Black coffee, two sugars."

The perky girl behind the counter punched in his order enthusiastically. And Maui found himself questioning what it was that she was so bubbly about.

"Anything else?"

He shook his head.

"Coming right up!"

He watched as she skipped towards the blending machines. He wondered if she had consumed one too many coffees here during her hours. For he has never really seen someone this eager to sell coffee to complete strangers on a regular basis.

Rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders, he busied himself with his phone as he waited. He already had twenty six new text messages, thirteen new voicemails and forty seven new emails in his inbox.

Even if he's only been here for a week, he still can't seem to get away from the duties of his job. And Maui would be lying if he said that seeing these things pop up on his phone did not stress him one bit. He doesn't answer any of them, but instead his grip tightens around the defenseless device in his hand, tempted to crush the little and throw it all way the Mars.

"Here's your coffee sir!" And the perky princess was back. "That'll be $3.35 please!"

'$3.35 for a measly dinky cup of black coffee and sugar? You've got to be kidding me!'

Suddenly, a nice homemade coffee from home didn't seem like a bad idea anymore. He knew he should've stuck to his mentality of being against Cafes in general. It was all too good to be true.

He smacked the five dollar bill on the counter and slid it towards the barista. When she tried to give him back the change she owed him, he shook his head and refused it. No point in getting back change if it was just worthless little coins. The girl bid him a good night, and grudgingly muttered under his breath as she handed him his cup – his three dollar cup of damn coffee.

It did smell good though.

Actually, it smelled….amazing.

Damn these stupid Cafes and they're stupidly delicious smelling coffees.

If the coffee didn't smell as great as it did, he would gladly have chucked that thing out into the streets. But because it just had to smell so dang good, his actions proved otherwise. Literally, with just one sniff as the residue of freshly roasted coffee beans filled his sense, his mouth watered, eager to let the hot liquid dance amongst his taste buds and fill his insides with the warmth he was craving.

It would've been even more of a reward if the coffee actually did end up between his lips. Sadly for Maui, one minute he was wearing a nice freshly cleaned dress shirt, and in a blur, the next minute, he was still wearing his shirt. But now, with a nice big coffee stain as its newest accessory. Unfortunately, the coffee had still been hot. Extremely hot, which was now burning and seeping through his shirt and clinging to his flesh.

Somehow, the cup that he was holding just a few seconds ago had now ended up on the clean, polished floor beneath his feet with the rest of his untouched coffee, drowning in the puddle of roasted bean liquid. And to add the best thing to the picture, there was a person standing in front of him, eyes wide like golf balls, and a hand clasped over their mouth, realizing the error of their actions.

"Oh my goodness! I'm- I'm so sorry!"

Maui has to do everything in his power to let the anger that was boiling up in his system to subside. He closes his eyes, balls his hands into fists, and mentally counts to ten. Then to fifteen. This young woman just had to make his night far worse than it already was.

"I'm sorry!" She apologized, flustered. "I-I didn't see you!"

Why this young woman had to be such klutz and come barreling into him like she was some sort of bull with horns charging at its target? Maui would never know. And truth be told, he didn't care to know. He glares at her through his lashes, watching as she crouches down to pick up his disposed cup.

"I'm so, so sorry! I just-"

"You've got to be kidding me." He grumbles, looking down at his newly stained shirt.

"I'm really sorry, sir, I wasn-"

"Of course you weren't." He says, sounding gruffer than he intended, but gruff as he means. "You need to watch where you're going, chick."

The curly haired young woman stared at him, blinking rapidly. "I'm sorry." She quickly grabs some napkins from the dispenser next to her. "I didn't mean-"

"There's no need to keep apologizing." He grows angrier by the minute. "If you were really sorry, then you wouldn't have bumped into me."

The young woman was stunned. "I said that I was sorry sir. I just-"

"Are you really?"

"It wasn't intentional. I swear, I just-"

He holds up his hand to silence her. "Save it."

She looks down at the napkins in her hands, then looks at the freshly made coffee that was now splattered all over the floor. Then she chances another look back up at him the hulking man standing in front of her.

"Look, sir, if you want, I can get you another coffee." Her offer is genuine. "Really, I have no problem-"

"No."

"Really, I insist, I can pay for-"

"I said no." The dent in his brow deepens, to the point where she has to take a slight step backwards. "Now, can you please move so I can leave?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it shut as she takes a tentative step aside to allow the man to move past her. Her gaze never left his back as she watches him disappear behind the entrance door. Part of her longing to repay him back for the damage she caused. But the other part of her decided against it.

Moana turned back to the mess that she had accidently caused. Napkins still in hand, as well as the now empty coffee cup, with the coffee spill still lingering amongst the floor and deviously spreading close towards her shoes. She was thankful that the baristas were gracious enough to clean the spill with not a single shred of annoyance or hostility. She had made sure to apologize continuously for her clumsy actions, but the baristas made sure to inform her that it was nothing to sweat, and that stuff like this happens on a regular basis.

So when she found herself leaving the Café, she knew there was something that she needed to do. Guilt was forming in the pit of her stomach. Usually, she would tell herself to just let it go and that it's not the end of the world.

But this time, this time was different.

She wasn't sure exactly why this time was different, but that feeling in her gut was giving her a reason to believe that it was.

Surveying her surroundings as she was met with the cool breeze, the sky illuminating the dark sheet of misted land with glossy stars glittering above, she headed towards the parking lot. Hoping that she would find what it was that she was looking for.


The parking lot was deserted. With the exception of two or three cars that were still present. One of them being Moana's red Mazda, the jeep which probably belonged to the barista, and the black Mercedes sports car, definitely had to belong to that man.

The same man that she accidently bumped into.

The same man that she knew wanted to drop kick her to Mars if he had gotten the chance to do so.

There he was. About to slip into his car. She sucked in a deep breath, and quickly sped walked towards him. Desperate to catch him before he was eager to speed off into the night.

"Hey! Sir?"

She called as she neared his car. And suddenly she felt all her confidence gradually begin to diminish as his back stiffened. His hand on the handle of his door, ready to escape from the unknown he clearly did not want to encounter. His back is still towards her, and she was certain she could perceive the sharp intake of breath he inhaled through his nose. She didn't dare inch closer than she would have as there was still a good meters between the two.

"Um, sir?" Her tone is meek as she clutches the strap of her bag. "May I um….have a quick word with you?"

She watches as he takes a deep breath, and he slowly turns to face her. The dimly lit streetlights outlined every single dent and crease in his facial features, clear that the glare was still masked on. She clears her throat, suddenly forgetting how to breathe as she chances a look down at that dark stain on his shirt that even gave her a frown of its own.

"Look, sir, about what happened back there," She begins, "I'm really, really sorry. I just-"

"Okay, chick, seriously, just stop apologizing." He grumbles. "You've caused enough damage already. Honestly, I just want to go home, alright?"

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I understand that but-"

"I don't think you do."

She lets out a wheezy sigh. "Sir, I promise that this," She points at his stained shirt, "wasn't intentional. I promise-"

"Seriously, stop."

"But I-"

"Oh for the love of the Gods!" He throws his hands up. "Will you just drop it?"

Moana took a slight step back, stunned at this man's hostility. This is the 'thanks' she got for trying to apologize for unnecessary damage she accidently caused? It was clear to her that this man had issues of his own. A man of little patience and one who certainly did not take any bullshit or crap for anyone. She would've argued his remark, but judging by how massive he was and how his hulking figure was inches from looming over hers, maybe it was a good idea to just keep her mouth shut and let it go. Just like he said to her multiple times.

"I don't need your apology." He grinds out, and she flinches. "And I definitely don't need you feeling sorry for me."

All she could do was blink and she closed her mouth shut. "I'm-"

"What you can do, is to leave me be and let me get on with my life." He presses his hands together, as if he were about to say a prayer. "And I'll do the same for you. Got it?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she nods.

"Good."

And without another word, he gets into his car, brings the engine to life and speeds his way out of the parking lot, past the stunned young woman she was watches his black beamer disappear into the night. She silently trudges to her car, hand grasping onto the handle and stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Part of her convincing herself not to beat herself up over the situation. This was clearly a man who was just miserable with his own life and needed to take it out on other innocent civilians. Nothing to sweat about.

However, the other part of her had allowed his bitterness to make its home in her bones. Which was something that was used to doing her whole life. And she still continues to do it.

And she slips into her car, hands gripped on the steering wheel and her head bowed, the one question she could ask herself,

'Can I ever do anything right?'

Sticking her key in the ignition as her engine comes to life, she reverses out of the parking lot and enters her way into the nightly city of Vancouver.


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