A/N: YES! School is OVER!

So I came out with a celebration fic (squee!)… something I was working on throughout the few weeks when I could spare some time and to help me laugh. It was nice writing this – I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: A rich blend of coffee and hot chocolate, served with a topping of whipped cream.

Disclaimer: No Kingdom Hearts for me.

Café Mocha

It'd been four days.

Four days since she first seated herself in this booth, idly staring at her surroundings, and first allowed her gaze to trail towards him.

She noticed that he, too, was here on a regular basis. He was always in the same chair, at the same table. And in the few days she'd been around, she couldn't help but flick a glance his way, every so often.

Maybe it was the way his lean body was always slouched in his chair, one foot propped up on the one across from him, as he listened to his earphones. Or maybe it was the way he absent-mindedly chewed his pen as it rested between his soft lips, his fingers busy flipping through the pages of a novel he'd just picked up. Or maybe…

Or maybe she was being stupid. God, Naminé, knock it off. It was then that she would glance away; the heat that inflamed her face warmer than the mug she was holding on to.

It didn't help the fact, though, as Naminé realized, that she found him to be an intimidating – and thus, almost interesting – person. The way he would just sprawl over several chairs, or the way he would prop his feet up on a table, or even the way he would just lean against a wall, dominated a sense of space around him – and people were aware of it, too. After all, none of the waiters or waitresses had made him remove his foot off of the other chair, yet. And when some people walked in, especially the ones who recognized this teenager, they always went over to say hello, to which he would respond with a mere wave.

But whatever it was, she would always find her azure eyes lingering back towards him, and she couldn't figure out why.

Well, it wasn't like she was stalking him or anything… like, constantly – fervently – wishing to catch those aquamarine gems he might throw her way. Or, despite the tingling that danced up her spine, that of all the people in the bookstore café, his eyes would only be for her…

…No… he just happened to be sitting in her line of vision, that's all.

Yup. Definitely. That was totally it.

Naminé moaned. You're so stupid. Like that was really her reasoning, honestly.

She suddenly noticed that she'd been watching him again, through the curtain of blonde hair that hung into her eyes. Wincing, she quickly pulled her eyes away from him before he could catch on, and refocused her attention on the books in front of her.

It was the last week of summer vacation, and Naminé had just transferred to the city – well, it seemed more like a quaint town, or something, and she had wanted to know her way around. Naminé was fond of books, and had wanted to check out the latest before she no longer had any time. This final year was supposed to be a difficult one, for she planned to apply to some colleges in the fall.

Ugh. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. She was not looking forward to the workload. Her courses were mainly made up of the arts, with a few sciences on the side. She completely gave up math – after a disasterous final, last year.

She'd found this quaint little coffee shop and bookstore mixed-in-one – "Twilight" – only a few days ago, and she fell in love with their taste immediately; it reminding her of home, and so decided that this is where she would spend her time after school. It was always filled with mild chatter, and there were plenty of books to keep her company – for both school and leisure. Even the seats were comfy.

Naminé tasted her small hot chocolate. Mmm… it was so good – she absolutely loved the butter caramel flavour shot with cream. But as she raised her cup, she couldn't help but look up, too, her gaze once more lingering towards him of its own accord.

Just looking at him (and thankfully, his eyes were still on his book) – Naminé couldn't surpress her wonder as she studied his appearance. Not for the first time, she took in his soft, gleaming, platinum hair, which oddly contrasted with a pair of sharp aqua eyes that seemingly pierced more fiercely when shadowed by his long bangs. They fell in wisps across his eyes, and the temptation arose to brush them away, wondering if they had the same downy feel as a tuft of feathers.

Naminé vaguely wondered all of this, while sipping her warm drink, and trying ever so hard to rein in her concentration towards her books.

But she couldn't help it.

Stop it, she scolded herself. If he catches you, you're screwed.

Mentally rolling her eyes, Naminé glanced at her watch, and gasped. Oh crap. Her mother was going to kill her if she was late this time; she promised she'd be home by seven 'o clock. She only had fifteen minutes to go, and damn, she was going to miss her bus. Finishing her mug, she made to gather her few purchases, and stand up. But as she did so, sweeping her gaze around, she almost faltered; her breath caught in her throat.

He was looking right at her.

Naminé's pulse quickened. Nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as colour flooded her face – See? He caught you! Stupid! – and in a vain attempt to avert her gaze, she turned from her booth, when –

"Ah!"

A thud, followed by splintering crash, and the floor was doused in coffee. As well as someone's uniform.

Shit.

And by two mugs, it seemed. Naminé swallowed.

Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap…

For a brief, brief second – the impact had absorbed the café's chatter, and the world was utterly silent.

Naminé, after unfreezing, brought a book up in front of her face – hoping to cover at least half her furious blush, and immediately panicked, "OhmyGod, I'm so sorry – please let me help you – I'm such an idiot – I can't believe I did that – I'm so, so sorry!"

The waitress – a brunette – who was carrying the tray, was bewildered, and glared daggers at her, as another brown-haired waiter came by with some towels and a mop. Naminé continued to apologize profusely, and the waiter kept saying it was okay, and that they would mop it up, but Naminé didn't stop.

After all, her face was aflame. The floor was a mess. And the whole café had turned to watch.

Especially a certain silver-haired, aqua-eyed teen, who had been sitting several tables away from her. An amused grin split his face, once he recovered from his initial shock. His eyes glittered.

Oh God.

He was laughing at her. Not aloud… but… damn.

Bastard.

Naminé closed her eyes, and it was a moment before the idle chatter began up again.

"Are you all right?"

Naminé snapped her eyes open, and was greeted by the waiter's stare. He was looking at her so inquisitively, with his bright blue eyes, that she blushed and looked away.

"I-I'm fine," she stuttered out. "I'll just go and pay now…" With that, she scurried away to the counter, barely recovering from her shock, her cheeks still stinging.

The cashier didn't even have to ask why she was there.

Pulling out several notes (1750 munny, honestly – but she didn't have time to frown at the sum for the damage – she just wanted to get out there as fast possible), she quickly, yet ungracefully, handed them over, and hurried towards the doors.

Enroute to escape, Naminé vaguely noticed that platinum-haired teen was leaning back in his chair, with his arms crossed, as he studied her – much to her discomfort.

And she definitely didn't miss the amused glint in his eyes, in the curve of his lips, with the pen still resting between them, as he stared bemusedly back at his book.

The cool air outside did nothing to absolve her burning face.

oOo

It'd been two weeks.

Two weeks before Naminé felt like she could show her face here again – the assaulted waitress did seem to be throwing her withering glances every so often. But she needed to use the bookstores resources – including the mug of hot chocolate, so Naminé had opted to sit in the back corner booth, away from the waitress' miffed glances.

Well, where she should be sitting – currently, she was walking through the aisles, notebook in hand, as she browsed the bookshelves. There were several titles she needed for her assignments, and she figured now was the time to search for them. She had left most of her school books back in the booth, with a jovial promise from the brown-spiky-haired waiter – Sora, he prompted, after an exchange of names – that he'd keep a safe eye on them.

Naminé wasn't too overly concerned, though – they were school books after all. Who would want to steal those?

Ugh, school. Already – it was only September – and she was in over her head with projects, assignments, and deadlines. Well, that's what she got for taking mainly arts courses – endless essays. What made it worse was that she was unfamiliar with the system; apparently, the school year was divided into two terms, so the workload was jam-packed. Great. And midterm reports were only a few weeks away.

Why did her parents have to move again?

Shaking her head, she shuffled through some of her papers in her hand – contents of an essay she was preparing for in her History class. Dammit, this had to be the only class that had assigned so many textbooks, she thought dully. Naminé had two other assignments to finish as well – chemistry, and an independent novel study for English.

She found the History section. Carefully, she began to pull out a few books, and search through their contents.

Naminé sighed. Peering outside her window, she could see the rainfall of leaves littering the ground, decorating the sidewalks with red, orange, and yellow signs of autumn. The cold was starting to settle in – well, just a bit – the days were still hot, but the evenings were starting to cool down. Naminé had brought her sweater, just in case.

She groaned, massaging a temple; this was going to be a long week. She shifted, trying to get a better hold on the books, when suddenly, she spotted… him.

Naminé blinked. She caught the luster of his hair, through the bookshelves. She bit her lip. Should she? It wouldn't do any harm, would it?

Carefully, Naminé shifted over, so she was half-peering over at him from the end of the bookshelf, until the full length of the lax-teenager came into view, sitting several tables over from where she stood.

Yes, that teenager. She still hadn't learned his name, and quite frankly, she didn't want to. 'Asshole' was enough for her.

He was sitting, she noticed, once again, with his feet propped up on the chair across from him – doesn't anyone tell him otherwise? – and his ears were occupied with earphones. Well – that would be the reason why – he conveniently wouldn't be able to hear them. How clever.

He also had a textbook propped up against other books, and, she noticed with a bit of a frown, a calculator in one hand, as he took notes with the other. For a fraction of a second, Naminé almost admired his studiousness – the intent focus he relayed on the book, holding that pen of his between his teeth, as he went about solving each question.

She wrinkled her nose. He was a mathie? Wait – why did she care? Let's not think stupid thoughts…

Oh, just stop talking to yourself altogether, and focus, she scolded. She had a ton of work to do, and there weren't enough hours in the day, or enough cups of coffee to get it all done. And Naminé wasn't too particularly fond of coffee – but she just might have to rely on it if the term work got any heavier.

She reined her eyes back to the books in her hands, and sighed. This one wasn't going to help her. She placed the book back; after quickly searching through the contents of the others, they too, went back on the shelf.

She slipped a glance over at his table. Did he have a lot of work to do, too? What was he taking, anyways? Was he –?

Naminé gasped. Oh crap! A tuft of chestnut brown hair suddenly appeared in her line of view, and she jumped back. She saw it was the waiter – Sora, was it? – stopping by Asshole's table, delivering his cup. It was a moment before he left – she was surprised to see the silver-haired teen pull out one of his earphones to make light conversation, and even exchanged a joke with the waiter.

Wow – the Ass talked to other people? No way. She thought he just sat there all day –

FOCUS. She wanted to slap herself for getting so easily distracted – she had work to do!

Frustratingly, Naminé blew her blonde strands out of her face, before moving on to another section.

Okay… so…1700s… 1750s…1780s…1800s… Where's her stupid year, anyways? This entire shelf was lined up with only one century – really. This was going to take her forever!

It took her a moment to realize that she was counting forwards in years… dammit – she needed to go backwards. And that meant searching above her current bookshelf. She needed the 1550s… her eyes roamed the shelves above her… there's 1470s… 1500s…there!

The books she needed were tucked somewhat in the middle of the shelf, a bit off to the right. She spotted the one she needed – a book based on culture and society of 1550s – and raised herself on her tiptoes to reach for it. Naminé extended her arm, brushing the spine of the book –

– when a hand suddenly brushed over hers.

Naminé jumped, and rammed into the person behind her.

Crap!

She whirled around, hands to her mouth, an endless abound of apologies already forming on her tongue, when a glint got her eye.

An aquamarine glint, followed closely by a smirk.

Goddamn.

She couldn't stop the onset of colour that flooded her face.

Naminé glanced up to see that his arm was still extended above him, except now, he was leaning against the bookshelf. His other hand was casually inserted into his pocket. She watched as he tilted his head to the side, bangs grazing his forehead.

His smirk was growing; amusement continued to glitter in his eyes.

"I-I'm s-sorry," she squeaked – Idiot! – while looking everywhere but at him, "I didn't know you were looking for the same book. I-I'll just go."

She didn't catch what he said, because with that, she was avidly spinning on her heel, about to turn around the corner, when –

"Oof!"

– she crashed headfirst into the edge of the bookshelf.

GodDAMMIT!

Naminé froze, but the force of the impact still reverbrated through the wooden frame, knocking several books off the shelves.

Save for the few a certain someone had managed to catch. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was leaning his arm across from her, having stopped the books by her head from falling down.

Naminé swallowed. She didn't dare look at him, now. No way.

And it didn't help matters that he was practically leaning over her, his arm incredibly close to her face.

Did she mention that he was tall? Like, her-eyes-only-came-up-to-his-chest tall?

Oh God.

As much as she wanted to wither and die, and hoped with all hope that no one else had seen that because she wanted to make a hasty getaway, her conscience kept her rooted.

Shamefully, she bent down to retrieve the fallen books. She was vaguely thankful that none were damaged, because suddenly he too, crouched down, and helped to pick up the books.

She thought she heard him muffle a laugh, but it came off as more of a cough.

"You okay?" she heard him ask. Naminé chewed her lip, refusing to meet his eyes. She meekly nodded in response.

"You really should be careful, you know," he said. Together, they stood up, and Naminé wasted no time in placing the books back where they belonged. She could see the teen regarding her carefully from the corner of her eye, and she couldn't help but notice that he was biting his lip. His eyes were still sparkling.

Her ears hadn't deceived her, then.

Asshole.

She had to admit – she must be making quite the impression on him.

Still, she did not meet his eyes, but she muttered out a coherent "thank you", as she began to turn away again. Carefully, this time.

"Oh, no, you shouldn't have to," he said breezily, as he leaned back against a bookshelf, his arms crossed. "It's not your fault."

A tingle crept up Namine's neck, and she turned her head to glance at him. What –?

"I mean," he continued, and he was clearly trying to fight off his mirth, "it's not everyday a girl practically demolishes a whole bookstore, just for me."

There was no stopping the intake of breath.

Or the explosion of colour on her face.

WHAT?!

He flashed teeth, and all of a sudden, the heat around her face intensified tenfold – hell, even her neck was on fire.

"You – I – what – huh?!" she spluttered. Her mouth struggled to form words, to capture the sudden hate she felt towards him. She tried smothering him with a glare, but he only doubled up in laughter.

My GOD.

She brought her hands to her face, hoping her hands were cool enough for her face.

They weren't.

Shit.

The pompous, stupid, arrogant, SON-OF-A –

Wasting no time and breath, Naminé whipped around, bowing her head in absolute horror, anger, and shame – was she that obvious? – and she stomped away, when suddenly, she felt him snatch her wrist.

Oh no, you don't! She quickly pulled herself free, as he struggled to rein in his mirth. As she made her way back to her booth, she heard him call out, "Name's Riku!"

Screw that. She was sticking with Asshole.

oOo

It'd been three hours.

Three hours since she'd been sitting here, focusing intently on the 'Ideal Gas Law' homework that she had been lost on for the past week, and pointedly ignoring the Ass sitting by the front counter.

She had even commended herself for completely looking the other way, when she had to pass said counter.

Now, hiding behind several textbooks that she had propped up and open, Naminé had managed to teach herself the lesson, and finish two-thirds of the assignment.

All because she ignored him.

Naminé huffed silently. It's not like if she had wanted to look at him, she could. He was sitting out of her casual line of vision.

Oh well, whatever. She looked back at her assignment.

She was getting behind in Chemistry, although, she wasn't surprised. It was another math-like course, after all. The only reason she was doing any good in the class was because of the theory – she couldn't figure out anything else without spending hoards of time on it.

Quite like now.

Dammit, why hadn't there been more electives to choose from? Naminé blew a strand of her from her face as she propped up an elbow, resting her cheek in her hand. She began working through the rest of the problems, drawing whatever necessary diagrams to help solve each question.

She was in the middle of solving the molecular weight for some stupid kind of liquid when something caught her attention.

Laughter.

Naminé bristled, and kneaded her forehead. She didn't need to put up with this – not now. She heard all the laughter she could get from him. She was almost ready enough to throw one of her textbooks his way. Or she might just go over and beat him with it. Either way would work.

The laughter ensued, and Naminé couldn't help but feel embarrassed – and angry – all over again. Did all Asshole ever do was laugh at other's expenses? Did he just find everything in the world amusing to him?

Ugh.

Throwing down her pen, she paused in her studying, grazing a glance over the top of her textbook.

Naminé blinked at what she saw – or rather, what she heard.

Not only was she surprised to see that Asshole wasn't the one laughing, but that he was leaning back against the counter, with his arms crossed. One foot was resting on the chair in front of him; his gaze cast asunder on the floor.

She peered over even further to see that it was the brown-spikey-haired waiter – Sora – who was laughing jovially, as he conversed with the quiet Ass. She was even more surprised to see that the other waitress, whom the name she'd learned was Selphie, plus another redhead girl, were laughing among them, too.

She blinked again. They were all friends?

Well, that was probably the reason why no one ever told him off for putting his feet up. Jeez.

Naminé watched as the Selphie-girl went back to the cash register, helping another customer. Sora and the other girl were still by the silver-haired teen's side, and she watched with utter amazement as Sora started to spin his tray on one finger, while he gestured with the other.

Wow – talk about well-balanced, she thought, slightly groaning at her own stupid joke.

Ugh, focus Naminé. But she couldn't help wondering, though. What was going on? Asshole looked almost… moody. What the hell did he have to be moody about? He wasn't even doing homework, goddamn!

She didn't realize she was glaring until a pair of bold, blue eyes suddenly turned to meet hers.

Naminé almost jumped. She quickly averted her eyes, and went back to staring at her textbook. That didn't help the heat that started to gather at the base of her neck, though. Damn – did they know she'd been watching them?

She shifted. Her gut was stirring – something… seemed off.

When she peeked this time, Naminé saw that the redhead had her hands on her hip, and seemed to be asking Sora something, because soon after, he let out a laugh. Naminé watched as Riku – er, the Ass – rolled his eyes (in some sort of response?). She then watched as the other two exchanged glances.

Naminé couldn't help but draw in her breath. The girl – whoever she was – was looking temperamental, giving… Riku a shrewd glare, as he was still looking at the floor. Naminé then watched as the girl pointed to Sora, said something, and then he was handing over his tray. Naminé almost choked when she saw the girl smack Riku's head with it.

Her jaw dropped. Oh my –!

Wait – what was she thinking?

YES! Asshole had it coming!

Naminé bit her lip, trying to suppress her giggle as she watched him look up in alarm, grabbing the back of his head. He shot the girl a crossed look, as she fell back in laughter, and Sora, too, was laughing out loud. Naminé couldn't help but let a small smile slip out.

Huh. Naminé wondered what that was all about. She was most pleased with the outcome, though – she was glad that some girl had put him in his place – Naminé only wondered why.

The girl then left, calling something out over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door, its tinkling bells reverberating through the air. Sora waved; Riku glared. Sora then immersed him in brief conversation, to which Riku still did not respond; but when Sora turned to go, Naminé couldn't stop the breath from leaving her.

Without even moving his head, Riku's – No! It's Asshole's! – steady gaze trailed up from the floor to meet hers.

Oh crap.

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap…

Ah! Chemistry! Go back to chemistry!

Yes – yes, that sounded like a good plan. Focus on work – on anything. Anything to rid the trickle of nervousness running down her back. Anything to seize the rapid heartbeat hammering in her chest. God, anything at all.

Naminé fervently went back to her books, opening them at random in a vain attempt to make her look busy. Like, she hadn't been watching – she'd been thinking, and, and they all just happened to fall in her view.

Yeah, right.

She was screwed.

Well – it's not like he's coming over, or anything, yeah, he was just staring, wait – staring? –

"Hey, Naminé."

She choked.

SHIT. Holy crap, what was she going to say, she –

Wait a minute.

Naminé suddenly looked up to meet the all-too-familiar aquamarine eyes, and amused smirk. Her heart fluttered, but that didn't stop her from narrowing her eyes.

"How do you know my name?" she asked him, trying not to look nervous. Riku laughed, his eyes never wavering from hers. She saw that he was holding two lidded cups, and Naminé feared what was inside them. When did he –?

She watched with almost shock, as he slid into the seat across from her. Taking down her textbook, he then passed her a cup across the table. She took it, warily, her fingers wrapping around the warm, thin cardboard. The small hole in the plastic lid allowed some steam to waft through.

"What's in –" He cut her off with a smirk.

"Do you have to ask?"

Her stomach sank. Of course she knew; she could smell it. She opened the lid, and – yup. It was hot chocolate with her favourite shot of butter caramel and cream. Huh. The question, though, was still…

"How did you know?" she asked, her voice slightly rising. "In fact, I never talked to you, I haven't told you my name, or –"

"I have my sources," he cut in, idly, as he threw a look over his shoulders. Naminé furrowed her brows – sources? Who –

And then it hit her. Her gaze drifted to the front counter, to which a certain brown-haired waiter promptly waved in reply.

Oh God.

She opened her mouth, gaping for words.

"Y-you can't do that!" she suddenly accused, her eyes sharply clashing with his. "You can't! That's like – like –"

"Stalking?" Riku prompted, brow raised. There was no mistaking the slight tilt of his mouth.

Naminé clamped her own shut. Goddammit. She watched with a slight glare, as he peeled open the tab on his lid, and popped it into place. He raised both brows briefly, before saying, "Fair's fair, don't you think?"

Oh, shut up. But he had her there. Technically, she had been doing the same thing… but hey, she didn't dig up information on him!

Naminé set her cup aside, and picked up her pen. She'd managed to avoid him for three hours; she could do it again. To hell with him. She shifted through her papers, completely avoiding his eyes, as she worked to finish the assignment. He didn't say a word – only continued to sip his hot drink.

Okay, so we're given the temperature, the pressure, and the molecule…

SLURP.

She flicked her eyes at him; he merely shrugged in response, while holding his cup to his lips.

To find the molecular weight, I have to…

SLURP.

What the hell!

She threw down her pen, and smothered him with a glare. Once again, another shrug – What? he seemed to say – but she clearly saw his one cheek swell.

If he was mocking her… Naminé looked back at papers.

So I just have to apply the equation. Ha! Piece of cake! Naminé pulled out her calculator – goddamn numbers – and punched them in. Her brows furrowed when her answer didn't match the back of the book's.

SLURP.

"Oh. My. God!" she shrieked. "Stop! I'm trying to study – some of us have work to do – go take your stupid coffee somewhere else!"

Riku – the Ass – only looked at her, his cup still in his hand. There was a moment's pause – in which he glanced down at her homework – and said, "I could help you, you know."

"UGH. I don't want your help!" Naminé cried, defensively. With that, she propped her textbook back up, serving as a protective wall, and ensuring her privacy. Her cheeks were blazing, and she was breathing hard.

Not even a minute had passed, when suddenly, her textbook came down, and the stupid guy was peering at her with such curiosity, with such attentiveness… she suddenly felt very, very exposed.

She wanted that textbook back.

"Hate me that much, huh?" he asked quietly, but his trademark smirk was starting to grow. She glared, and he tried to control it. "Like you said, we barely know each other. So how does that work?"

Naminé shrugged, going back to her work. "It works fine," she said, idly, re-punching the numbers into her calculator. "In our few run-ins, I've seen that you're a complete ass."

Said Asshole snorted. "Oh? Well, my first impression of you is that you're an uncoordinated flake." She threw him an indignant look, and almost sneered,

"So, why pray tell are we even talking to each other now? How about we just leave each other alone?"

"Because you can't seem to keep your eyes off me."

Her jaw dropped. She was stunned, to say the least.

"You –!"

"Oh come on!" he laughed. She was seething, but she couldn't help but notice the way the setting sun's light reflected off his eyes when he laughed. They were such an… odd colour… the sun made them glitter, and depending on how he tilted his head, she'd either see flashes of blue or green. It was mesmerizing, but like hell she was going to admit that.

But like she was going to admit to his earlier statement, either. The pompous ass.

Her eyes were diverted when she saw him play with the lid's tab of his drink. His smile was back; fresh and brilliant. Naminé continued to stab numbers into her little machine.

"This can't go on forever, you know. You can't keep avoiding me – I'm here most of the time, too." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Doesn't he have a job to keep him occupied, or something? She watched, with open surprise, when he suddenly leaned forward, and pulled the calculator away from her. His mouth quirked, and he said, "I propose a truce."

She gave him a blank look. "What?"

"A truce – you know, a kind of cease-fire, so we can get to know each –"

"I know what it is, thanks," she gritted out. He laughed, his smile only growing wider. And she couldn't help but watch it.

He leaned further still. "So, how about this Saturday? We can meet here, if you –"

"Wait – what?" she asked, confused. They didn't need a meeting for this – that was absurd!

"For our date, you know, something people do, when getting together –" She could've ripped her hair out, if she wasn't so distracted with the rose blossoming on her cheeks.

"Huh? But that's not how truces work – it's –"

"– A way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak," he finished. His eyes were sparkling more than ever – and was his hair always that long? He slowly shifted himself so his gaze would catch hers, and she blushed when she noticed what he was doing. He continued, "Seeing as to how our, er, impressions of each other are not up to par, I thought we should give each other the chance to prove otherwise – that I'm not a complete 'ass', and you," – he gave her the once over, to which her blush deepened – "can at least hold yourself up, say, in heels."

It was all she could to bunch up the paper around her, and chuck them at his head.

"God, you're so… arrogant!" she cried. She could not believe this guy was for real!

The stupid-Riku-ass only smirked, and replied, "I'd like to say I'm confident, thanks." She wrinkled her nose at him, and he only laughed; to her surprise, he moved forwards and flicked a strand of hair out of her face.

She could only gape at him, at a loss for what to do.

He got up, then, and made his way out of his seat. He moved to stand beside her, and he leaned forwards, his palms resting on the table, as he held himself up.

"So… I'll see you Saturday evening, then? Great – I'll pick you up here… considering if I ask for your address, you'll think it's stalking," he added with a smirk.

"How do you know I'll be here?" she asked, eyebrows raised. The hell – who does he think he is thinking –

Her thoughts were cut short, when suddenly, he leaned forwards, and brushed her cheek with his own. She was vaguely aware that his hand had moved to rest above her head, supporting himself on the top ledge of the seat, as his lips brushed her ear.

"Oh, I know," he said, his voice whisper-soft. She shivered. His lips continued to graze her ear, "Trust me; you won't be disappointed."

He pushed himself back, and she blinked, watching as a curve stretched across his mouth, and he left. He didn't look back once, as he made his way out the front door, its bells chiming softly in his wake.

It was a moment before she could recover, and even then, he still lingered around her. She shifted her eyes to look at the table, and saw that her hot chocolate still sitting there. The shot of butter caramel was gone; the drink now a hybrid of cream, chocolate, and water. Naminé wrapped her fingers around the cup, and brought it to her lips.

It had cooled, but her palm-sweaty hands – not to mention the heat left in her face and neck – were more than enough to make up for it.

oOo

A/N: Hope you liked it! Heh, this was definitely different - I'm not used to writing Riku as so cocky, and Naminé as so... well, paranoid. :-P Anyways, please review!