Misaki turned her amber gaze to the picnic table, bereft of anything but her purse. She resisted a scowl, instead clenching her fists that lay on her lap.

She knew she shouldn't have dressed up. Misaki had let her little sister dress her up in a pretty pale pink dress trimmed in dark pink ribbon. Her soft ebony hair was styled in a cute pony tail that hung over her shoulder and for once she was wearing heels, even if they were slight.

Now she was going to go home utterly embarrassed. She'd never been stood up before. But it had already been forty minutes since her date had agreed to meet and there was no sign of him. He hadn't texted, or called, and Misaki had no idea what she was supposed to do next.

Either way, Misaki kept her stern expression on. Unbeknownst to her, there was a layer of hurt and injured pride in her golden eyes that would be easy to notice if she just brushed away the dark bangs hanging drawn over them.

Misaki stood up abruptly then, her eyes suddenly misty and her grip on her purse tight. She headed out of the clearing littered with families and couples and headed towards the cobblestone path. Now she'd have to find her way out of the maze of an amusement park.

People are on every side of her, with the noises making her head throb and her eyes skitter around her to observe her surroundings and cling to her purse, wary of pickpockets. She couldn't help but bitterly wonder if one of the various males passing her by was the asshole her co-worker had set her up with.

Misaki stops suddenly in the middle of the crowded pathway, uncaring about the people forced to divert around her. The ebony haired woman roots through her purse, determined to text her sister to ask to be picked up early. Which is why she freezes when she can't find it.

"No…" Misaki mutters, furrowing her eyebrows, "No, no, no, no…"

Letting out a curse, Misaki swivelled in the direction she'd come from, starting into a run. She pushed through the crowd, thankful she hadn't yet run into any children. It was hard to run in a dress and heels, and Misaki tried to banish the voice that sounded suspiciously like her fashion-freak friend Aoi screaming at her that she was flashing everyone behind her, and that she needed to be more demure and lady-like.

Misaki didn't particularly care at that moment, more concerned about having forgotten her phone at the picnic table. She was so focused on just getting there in fact, that she completely tripped over a hunched figure.

Misaki let out a yell as she tripped over the waist high figure and prayed she hadn't just bowled a child over. She lay there on the floor for a few moments, groaning at the pain throbbing in her knees, palms and elbows.

A silent shadow fell over her. At first all she can see is a mop of silky blonde hair, but then she connects the way it flops over intense emerald eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Misaki blinks once, twice and then wonders if his perfectly shaped lips were about to frown in concern or smirk in amusement. She really couldn't tell. But at the remembrance of her phone, Misaki sits up abruptly and stands, bashing heads with the handsome man.

"Ow!" she hisses, falling on to her butt and clutching her forehead. The man lets out a similar sound, peeking at her from under his spiky blonde luscious hair.

"Ow," he repeats almost meekly.

"Sorry," Misaki mumbles, brushing her ebony hair out of her eyes and looking up at him apologetically. She got on her knees, rapidly picking up the scattered objects that had fallen from their crashes. She didn't notice the way his breath hitched and his cheeks turned red, although when she next looked up to him offering her a hand, she honed in on him when he ran a hand through his hair, emphasising the soft looking quality.

She ignored his hand nonetheless, picking herself up and giving a short bow before scurrying off to her original destination. Misaki tried to ignore the way her heart beat fast and how she seemed oddly disappointed in leaving.

Before she could get far however, a hand slid closed around her wrist, forcing her momentum to a halt. Misaki looked back, her heart beating fast. The blonde man had grabbed onto her wrist and the expression on his face made her cheeks bloom red. His eyes were wide, his beautiful hair hanging over his forehead completing his enamoured look.

She cursed her body for being quick to rush blood to her cheeks, as her cheeks darkened in shade at the look and the tender hold he had on her wrist. "Here," he said, almost hesitantly, his voice like molten chocolate, offering up a small cellular device. "You dropped this."

Misaki blanched at the object, internally face palming, before taking the object out of his hand. She was hyperaware of the fact that he hadn't let go of her wrist and that he was drawing small circles on the back of her hand.

"I found your phone," the man said with a twinkle in his eyes, "So in exchange can I take care of you?"

Misaki went bright red all over again, uttering a shrill, "What?"

The beautiful blonde man smirked and bent down in front of her. "I'll give you a piggy back to the infirmary if you want."

Misaki's blush darkened for the eighteenth time, realising he'd wanted to take care of the cuts she'd accumulated from her fall. And while she squawked at him for the comment, her internal thoughts, deep, deep inside, she begged herself to say yes, if only because she might then get away with 'accidently' touching that luscious looking hair of his.