Nicholas: I promised I'd write one, so here it is. The first Simply Irresistible fanfic I've seen on this site. I hope I start a trend, it would be nice to read stuff from other authors as well. This is purely for my entertainment, and your as well. I was bored and I thought, what are they thinking when they act so awkward around each other, so here it is. First is Amanda's thoughts and then Tom's. (No, not you AmandaNut.)

Disclaimer: I don't have the stomach to ave created something so nauseatingly adorable as this movie

Rating: T...just to be safe...mild language...hinted suggestiveness, stuff like that.

Amanda

Oh god! He's there…That's him isn't it? Yes, hon, that's him and look! He brought you flowers. Wonderful, now I'm talking to myself sarcastically.

"Hi," he said simply. Still, I doubted that was all he wanted to say. He had one of those looks on his face…I wanted right that moment to jump on him and hug him I was so glad he came, but that would most definitely scare him off. Or maybe you should try it, girl. He looks out of it anyway.

"Hi," I settled on saying. "It's really late."

"Yes it is." He felt bad. No, no, no, no, no…Why did he feel bad? "I'm sorry, I got a little held up…well, a lot held up and…Those guys, they just go on and on."

"Don't worry, I had a party of six that just wouldn't leave." There you go, lie your way into it. "I finally had to kick them out at midnight." He wouldn't mind, would he? I mean, it isn't like he's never lied before, is it? I'm asking myself questions that I apparently expect replies to…That is not normal.

"I brought you flowers." Thank you, Tom, for breaking me out of my consuming thoughts. He held out a pot with pink stalks shooting up about three feet in the air. For a moment I thought I recognized them from somewhere. Hadn't they been at Bendle's department store?…Nah, why would a place like that have flowers. "They're…uh…vanilla—"

"Vanilla Orchids, I know." I wasn't too sure if he knew, or if he was just too exhausted from a hard day's work to think straight. I was on the verge of that myself, so the flowers were a nice refresher. "You don't see these that much, thank you."

He was staring at me. Did I look funny? Was I making a face? Or was he just staring because…Oh, god! I'm so horrible when it comes to guys some times, and my sleep-deprived brain isn't helping. Maybe I should just say, "I'm sorry, I'm about to pass out from waiting for you all night." No! That's stupid! So I settled on the obvious reaction to some one staring: "What?"

"Huh? Oh, just…you…" His smile widened a little. "…smelling those flowers." Usually, comments like that would lead me to thoughts like 'was I not supposed to smell the flowers?' or 'is there something in my teeth?' but this time all I could think about were his lips and how they stretched over his teeth to make a million-dollar smile. God, that was cliché. "Can I walk you home?"

I felt relatively more comfortable now and my smile was a bit more easy. Maybe all you need to get your confidence is him. That'd be a relief, I wouldn't mind having him around. "Sure." You can walk me the three steps it takes to get me to my home. I didn't say that, though. I let him figure that out on his own. "Thank you."

He looked up and sighed. "It's here?" I nodded, trying to hide a smirk.

"All my life." I looked up at the sign that said "Southern Cross" but for some reason didn't light up anymore. He did too. "Thanks for the flowers." That he still hadn't actually handed to me. I felt his eyes on me again after a moment. Oooo! Girl, he's checking you out! Not that I minded, but I needed something to keep my brain occupied and it was unfair that'd he'd found his. "I guess this is the part where we pretend we had dinner and say goodnight, right?"

"Well, I guess…I guess we could pretend we had dinner, but did we have dessert?" And there it was! The back door! The "something" to keep my mind off of fatigue! I could feed him. What I would feed him…no freaking idea. "I mean, I'm still hungry, so…if you know a place that's open, I'd love to get some dessert."

Oh, he's just so insistent! "Okay," I said and led him back to the restaurant, all three steps of the way, and unlocked the door that I'd locked five minutes ago so I could take back to my kitchen and make him something…wonderful.

Tom

Why is she so…lovely, beautiful, rapturous, cute, adorable…God, I don't know what she is and what she isn't. People tend to use the word God a lot when they're nervous, don't they? Well, I was pretty nervous when I caught her just as she was leaving. It wasn't until I was safely seated in the kitchen of the Southern Cross restaurant that I was sure this wasn't another hallucination like in the store with the eclairs…never mind.

"So what was your meeting about?" Oh, that was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? My turn to be nervous again and try and play it off like I know what it is that I'm doing. She tended to put me in that situation a lot.

What do I say? "We discussed the finer things in life like Sunday night football and dirty lingerie." Yeah…no…I don't even like football…or underwear that's meant to be worn like clothes. See what she does to me? "I lied," I managed to state as flatly as I could.

Her brow furrowed as she kicked the fridge door closed and carried her handful of stuff to the counter. She wasn't pissed off…that was good, wasn't it? "There was no meeting," I went on, building my confidence ever-so-slightly. Why did she make me feel like a puddle of goop every time she talked to me? "I don't know why I'm telling you this. Probably because I'm sorry."

A pause and then a laugh and I knew I was in the clear. "That's okay," she said, going to work making something I have no idea what. "My…uh, my last table left at eleven."

Ooo, she had been waiting for me. Well, no shit, Sherlocke. I'm talking to myself! "Oh, now I feel really bad." And I'm also talking to her.

"Don't because then I'll feel badly for making you feel bad."

"And I'll feel worse for making you feel bad twice." Suddenly things were so much easier to say. Maybe it was that I was now sitting down at the counter across from her and the blood was flowing differently…or maybe it was the smell of vanilla.

"Okay, I think were both sorry," she stated with a laugh. God, I love her laugh. It's like a fairy tale, every time I hear it. You know, how your parents tell you stories when you go to bed at night and you are so excited to hear the one you've hear a thousand times or more just so you can hear it again and relive it and…yeah…That's so corny it's not appropriate for young children.

She was stirring something, but I have no idea how to cook, let alone what cooking really look likes—because I really don't consider watching the famous Valderon at work actual cooking. Amanda, she makes it an art form, just the way she goes about doing it. I can't help but stare.

She's pretty. I've decided. It isn't beauty because that's played out and she's not. She isn't sexy—I don't even know what sexy defines anymore! She's pretty. Simply, perfectly pretty. 'One day I'll write a poem and it will hold my heart in it's words,' that kind of pretty. It's like she hasn't even realized it herself, or she tries to hide it.

The way her arms moved with practiced ease, preparing something that is most definitely as good to eat as it is to smell. She reached over and plucked a few buds off of the plant and dropped them in. An even better smell and I think that's about when I started to get light-headed. "That…smell…" I'm not sure if that was me talking or me listening.

"Vanilla and flowers," she said with a smile. She looked almost ghostly in the fog. Fog? When did…what…? She was right, it did smell like vanilla and flowers…mostly vanilla.

My body started to move without me and I was suddenly standing, taking slow steps around the counter to where she was. I was close to her and I was damned sure the smell was coming from her and not the weird fog that was suddenly all around us. Did she taste that good? What the hell? I'm not sure where my thoughts were coming from, but they fit my actions.

I reached over and touched her…her skin was soft and pretty and…I don't know what…it smelled nice. Out of some strange impulse, I rubbed my thumb along her jaw and them brought it to my mouth—I could taste her. "You taste…so good." I wasn't speaking anymore. The words and the sounds were coming out of my mouth, but it wasn't me anymore. Something took away my self-control and I think it was…her. She was bewitching.

"It's sweet," I repeated my gesture with the other thumb and I damn well could taste her. "Kind of spicy…" I'm not sure what I was doing, but something about her made me…dizzy but comfortable. I was sure it was her taste. I needed it, so I bent down and I licked her skin just over her jaw. My nose filled with the scent of vanilla and my mouth with her distinct flavor, and I…I'm not quite sure what happened next.