Chapter 2

The Florence Moore Hall at Stanford University was a seven-building student residence wrapped around a central servery; its large common areas encouraged socialization, allowing its more outgoing students to mingle together and form lasting friendships.

The Florence Moore Hall also had a large courtyard. It was there, meandering amongst the trees alone, that Kate literally walked into a jubilant Rick.

The impact sent her staggering backwards; Rick yelped in dismay and caught hold of her, apologising profusely. Embarrassed by her rather unsightly flail of limbs, she brushed off both imaginary dust and his I'm sorrys in favour of eyeing him suspiciously.

"You were waiting for me, weren't you?" she snapped.

His returning grin was, of course, altogether too innocent. "What makes you think that?"

"Maybe the look on your face," she answered shortly. "Or the fact that you've been hiding behind that tree ever since I turned my back three minutes ago."

"Ooh, observant," he murmured vaguely. "I need to add that to the list."

"What?"

"I got the list!" He flapped his arm happily, causing the piece of paper he held to flutter back and forth in the wind. With a huff, she snatched it from his hand.

"Pretty," she read. "Studious. Mysterious. Rick, what the hell is this?"

"A list of your attributes!" he crowed proudly. "Keep reading."

"No! I'm not going to keep reading about—this—the—why are you writing about me?" she wailed.

"I told you—"

"And I said 'no'." Growling loudly, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "I had reasons for saying 'no'."

"Do tell," he invited, still bouncing with cheerfulness.

"They're none of your business," she retorted. "God, why are you so insistent?"

"Because you're really interesting."

The abrupt quietness to his voice made her drop her hand in surprise; when she finally met his eyes, what she found in them took her aback even more—they were intense; vibrant with energy. She did not think she had ever seen anybody look at her like that before.

"I like interesting," he said.

She sucked in a breath. "Be that as it may, you can't just write about me if I say 'no'. That's not the way things work, Rick."

"I know." He took a single step forwards, his palms rubbing against the fabric of his pants; for the first time since she had known him, he almost appeared nervous. "I—I know, and that's why I didn't go any further than this list; but Kate, I'm asking now. Please."

She gnawed on her lip. "Don't you have anyone else to write about?"

"I do. Of course I do. But I don't want them—I want you."

"Why? I'm not even…. I barely know you, Rick. It's not like we've been best friends forever. I meet you at a bus stop, and a mutual friend introduces us, and suddenly I'm muse material?"

"I don't—We didn't have the chance to meet before. That's all." He swallowed hard. "Except I'm thinking you're something special because the first time we meet, you start talking about comic book characters, and … I-I've—I've never really had someone I can talk to as an equal. Lanie's … nice an' all, but the only reason we talk is because she's taken a liking to 'Writer Boy and his exuberant personality'. You … you talk about coffee with me. You talk about NYC—our shared hometown—with me. You talk about magic with me. You talk about languages—that's hot, by the way—with me, and saying we don't have anything in common is a lie, because I haven't met anyone with more in common with me. And I know you don't see things that way, but please: I just need someone to write about, and I can't think of anyone better than you."

Kate thought she might be gaping. Mindlessly, she closed her mouth again, before mulling over his words. They were earnest. He looked earnest. But—

—But there were no buts, really. Rick was a good person. Even from their relatively limited interactions, she could tell that. Her own reservations were the only thing stopping her and, at that moment, staring into his pleading eyes, she could not help but to wonder if her reservations were unneeded. It was not as if she thought she made a good story, but she was not Rick's keeper—if he were to insist on penning her, there would be no need for her to censor him beyond what might be dangerous to her own privacy and wellbeing. Even taking that into account, she trusted Rick enough to know that he would never deliberately put her in harm's way. She just hoped he would not be sabotaging his own grade by taking on a topic so overwhelmingly dull and insipid.

"On one condition," she finally said. "Two conditions, actually. One, you do not put down my name. Two, you do not put anything personal about me in it."

"But—" he started.

"And believe me, I will check," she interrupted loudly. "I will be sitting beside you when you submit your assignment, and I will expect to read it before you submit it. If I find any evidence that you've been misusing the information I give you, then I will go to your professor: And do not doubt for a second that I can convince him to give you a failing grade. Remember, I am a—"

"—Pre-law student," he finished hastily. "I know, I know."

But he was still beaming so brightly.

"Good," she concluded, feeling adrenaline rush through her in a manner that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She beamed at him. "Now, shall we get started?"

He grinned, two full rows of teeth greeting her. "Can we play 20 Questions?" he asked her excitedly. "Ooh, does that mean we can play 20 Questions?"

A/N: There we go—a bit of lightness! Enjoy it. It won't be long before the tide turns.

To those who reviewed the previous chapter: I'm so sorry that I haven't gotten to replying yet; when I'm writing, I get pretty caught up in the spiral. I'll get to them at the soonest possible instance—quite possibly tomorrow, if my guilt doth dictate the way.

Thank you for reading! Please review on your way out!