Ami loved winter. She loved the nip at her cheeks or the slight chill through her limbs, the way coco would burn through her, warming her straight to her toes. She loved the beauty of snow, perfect in its untouched state, a gentle blanket that foretold of quiet evenings by the fire with a good book in one hand and hot apple cider in the other. It was a time of rest and contemplation, things she thrived from.

And yet as she walked out of her last class for the day, she couldn't help but feel as if something was missing. There was a strange energy in the air, as if something was about to happen, something she should know about, but all she could see were students hurrying to class while one or two played in the snow. She decided to head to her favorite local bookstore, hoping a new book would distract her from her restless feelings.

It was a cramped shop with one half of the shop dedicated to stacks upon stack of books while the other half contained a barista bar crowded with syrups and beans and a small display of pastries to nibble on at the small cluster of two person tables set off to the side. Despite its appearances, the shop was a favorite of hers, with an impressive selection of books and scones that reminded her of her trip to Scotland. She was hard-pressed to name a place she'd rather be.

Her eyes scanned the titles and she selected a piece by a relatively unknown author she had discovered last month. She purchased the book as well as a cinnamon muffin and a mug of steaming hot chocolate topped with a serving of whipped cream, before sitting at the only open table by the window. She skipped the introduction, hoping to quickly get lost in the story, but as she skimmed the words of the first page she realized her body felt too jittery to focus, as if she were drinking coffee instead of coco.

She eyed her cup warily before taking another sip. The sweetness swept over her tongue and she was forced to admit that she could detect no traces of coffee. She sighed, placing her mug back on the table, and stared out the window. As she watch new snow start to fall she finally felt the slow calm she had been craving wash over her.

"Can I join you?" asked a light tenor voice.

Ami looked up to see a man about her age with curly, dirty blond hair and sparkling deep green eyes. She noted the filled seats of the neighboring tables in her peripheral and relaxed, now having a reason to justify his approach. Nodding her approval, she took another sip of her coco as the stranger pulled out his chair and sat down.

So how do you like the book?" he asked, his eyes remaining on her even as he tore the pink sugar packets open and dumped their contents into his coffee. Those deep green eyes were curiously sharp as he waited for her answer, though he smiled pleasantly, and she felt a nagging sensation as if he were testing her.

"I've only just begun this one, but I've read another of his novels," she answered cautiously, "Do you know his work?"

The man flashed a crooked grin.

"Intimately," he answered suggestively.

Heat rushed up to her cheeks at his insinuation and Ami felt a flash of annoyance that this man was flustering her so when all she had wanted to do when coming here was sit and drink while reading her book as snow fell lazily outside. She cleared her throat.

"Well then, I assume you already know not only how well written his novels are but as well that the text is scattered with references and allusions to complex political and social issues that he addresses utilizing a mask of cheerful and seemingly confident characters who are really just disillusioned individuals." She replied somewhat angrily.

The man's smile morphed in to a wide, genuinely pleased grin and his eyes danced as he stared back at her.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Ami started at the question, but knew introducing herself would be the polite thing to do seeing as they were sharing a table. She hesitated to give it to him, but eventually politeness won out and she gave the introduction.

"Mizuno Ami."

He smiled gently and stuck out his hand to shake with hers. She frowned at the gesture, not entirely comfortable with physical contact, but took his hand anyways.

"Well Mizuno-san," he murmured once she had taken his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ueda Satoru." He grinned a little wider at this, still holding her hand captured and Ami knew exactly why.

"Y-You," she spluttered, yanking her arm free and drawing the attention of several disgruntled customers. She flinched at her faux pas and then shot Ueda an accusatory look.

"You wrote this?" she demanded with a hiss, holding her—really his—book up in her hand for him to see, unable to reconcile this cocky, arrogant man with the intelligent, thoughtful author she had imagined.

"I am," he admitted with a more subdued tone, though his eyes still sparkled.

She glared at him a moment longer before turning to stare out the window once more with a huff. What kind of person didn't mention such a key detail when they first met someone? What if she had insulted him to his face? That would have been beyond rude, even if she didn't know who he was at the time.

"So did you just want to have your ego stroked?" she inquired after a minute had passed.

Ueda sighed and Ami's eyes snapped in his direction.

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologized; sounding genuinely guilty as he absently rubbed his neck. "It's not often my novels are picked up by beautiful, young women and I was legitimately curious as to what you thought."

Ami blushed at his use of the term 'beautiful' but remained focus on his explanation. "Why didn't you just ask me after saying who you were?"

"Would you honestly tell me I suck if you knew who I was?" he asked with a raise of his brow.

Ami's blush deepened and she realized he was probably right, though she doubted anyone had ever said such things to him. He was more likely to get someone's real opinion if they didn't have to worry about offending the writer but she still didn't like being duped.

"You know as well as I do that you're not a bad writer," she stated knowingly, a man who wrote so beautiful could never believe his writing was bad. He grinned and Ami had no doubt that he was man of confidence in any situation.

"Ah, but perhaps you picked the book at random or someone suggested it to you and it wasn't really your thing, then there would be no point in asking you." He shrugged.

"Asking me what?" she inquired, her brows scrunched in confusion.

His eyes twinkled, "Do you want to grab some dinner? With me?" he added, in case she obstinately mistook his meaning.

Ami felt flushed. All at once the agitated restlessness returned as if awaiting her decision, and she concluded it was this man's fault since he had been upsetting her so. She didn't really believe in fate, even though Usagi and Mamoru were living proof of it, and yet as she looked into his hopeful eyes, she felt inextricably drawn to him.

"Alright," she agreed with a small smile. She was grateful to feel the restlessness vanish instantly upon her assent, and she quietly gathered up her things so they could go. Ueda beamed and scooped up his own belongings, eager to rush out the door though he made sure to hold it open for her as she exited the book store.

Walking side by side, towards some little restaurant he informed her he had discovered last spring, she felt oddly relaxed, as if she hadn't just agreed to a date with a man she'd just met but instead was someone she had known her entire life. He didn't grab her hand, or try to touch her in any way; instead he only walked a little closer than acquaintances normally would and she realized perhaps this is what was missing in her life, someone to share the quiet moments with. She didn't know if they would go out again or if this would turn out to be something more, but for now, she smiled, it was enough.