~ Darcy's POV ~

Part of him can't believe he's doing this. He should be seated comfortably at Tetsuya's right now, sharing coffee and petit fours with his best friend and his best friend's date. Instead, he's running pell-mell down a busy city street, raindrops spattering all over his dinner jacket. He's chasing a girl who hates his guts right now. And he can't think of a single fathomable reason for why he's doing this.

All that he knows is the expression of hurt which crossed her face at Charlie's words will haunt his dreams tonight.

How could she have disappeared so quickly? Could she have hailed a taxi?

He pauses to reflect – and also to catch his breath – as he ponders where she might have gone. Suddenly he remembers her earlier words...

"We're in the heart of the city. I'll have no problem finding a bus back to campus."

A bus! She must be waiting for a bus!

He turns abruptly and begins to sprint to the nearest bus stop with renewed energy, almost knocking over an old woman in the process. He mutters a hurried apology as he runs past, but doesn't stop. She glares at his rapidly retreating figure and complains to her companion about how unmannerly and rude young people are these days.

He groans when he sees a bus pulling away from the curb.

"Wait!" he cries, waving his hand wildly, in an effort to gain the bus driver's attention.

The bus driver is clearly impatient or running late. He makes no attempt to stop for the soaked young man. Despite the expensive suit that he's wearing, Will Darcy is left alone in the rain, shaking his fist angrily at the rumbling bus.

All he can think of is that this would never have happened to him in England. Of course, he probably wouldn't be chasing down one of his students late at night in England, either.

Could things get any worse? And just as he's foolishly asking himself that question, the rain suddenly begins to get heavier, thunder cracks and a sudden flash of lightning streaks against the sky.

He rolls his eyes. Could this situation be any more of a cliché?

The only available immediate shelter seems to be at a nearby cafe. Darcy doesn't usually drink coffee at this time of night, but feels like he might make an exception this one time. He needs somewhere warm to stay, while he waits for the storm to pass. This is as good a place as any.

The barista looks surprised when Darcy orders an espresso.

"Are you sure?" he asks hesitantly. "We make it pretty strong here."

"I don't care," Darcy says and he means it. He doesn't think he's going to be sleeping well tonight, anyway.

The cafe is surprisingly crowded for this hour and Darcy realises that his idea to wait in here while the storm rages outside is not an original one. There doesn't seem to be a spare table in the place.

He scans the cafe again and this time, he finally spots an empty seat amidst the crowd.

He cautiously makes his way to the table and hesitates. The young girl occupying the other chair seems to be lost in her book and he feels nervous about disturbing her. Well, actually, on second thoughts, he's pleased – now he won't have to worry about making small talk with a stranger again.

He taps her gently on the shoulder. "Excuse me, miss. Would you mind if I sat here? It appears to be the only vacant seat in the cafe."

She mumbles something that sounds like "Go ahead," and he smiles gratefully, even though she doesn't look up from her book.

He slides easily into the vacant seat and takes a sip of his espresso. It's hotter than he thought it would be and he finds himself wincing and muttering a quiet profanity.

The girl looks up from her book and he hastens to apologise for disturbing her reading. But his apology dies in his throat.

For the girl sitting across the table from him is none other than Ellie Bennett.

Her hazel eyes meet his.

"Oh, bloody hell," she mumbles and puts her novel down.

~ Ellie's POV: ~

After exiting Tetsuya's, I had wondered where to go next. I'd briefly considered going home.

But then I'd remembered that Charlotte would be there and while I was sure we'd forgive each other for our behaviour in the morning, I really didn't feel like talking to her at present. With the mood that I was currently in, it would be too easy to snap at her and get into even more of an argument.

So when I'd spotted a well-lit cafe not far from the bus stop, I'd decided that a soothing cup of chamomile tea was just what I needed. And when the storm came, I knew I had made the right decision.

I was surprised by the storm, actually. We don't usually get heavy rain in Sydney. Our rain is more like brief, sporadic showers which turn on and off throughout the day. But I didn't mind the excuse to linger in the cafe and read.

Fortunately, earlier that evening, I'd rejected the tiny silver clutch Jenna had offered to lend me and gone with a larger shoulder bag instead. It might not have been the trendiest accessory but it was big enough to fit everything I wanted to bring along – including a book.

And I'd impressed myself with my choice of pick-me-up therapy. Leaning back into the cushions with my cup of chamomile and one of my favourite novels, I could feel the stress starting to slowly melt away.

That is, until he showed up.

Of all the cafes in the Sydney CBD, Will Darcy walks into mine.

I was surprised when he ventured a tiny smile at me. I didn't even know the man could smile. And he had dimples!

"Hello, Ellie," he says almost apprehensively.

"It's Ellie to my friends and family. It's Miss Loser Drunk to you," I say coldly, shooting him my deadliest glare.

He winces at the harshness of my tone and I feel a sense of smugness wash over me.

You thought you could get away with putting me down, didn't you? Well, now that I'm sober and not worrying about writing the perfect paper...guess what? I won't let you.

"Perhaps I deserve that," he replies finally and I feel a jolt of surprise.

Hang on. I'd imagined our next meeting starting off in many different ways. Me roasting him over a fire and turning the spit was one. Me rubbing my hands together in glee as he screamed in agony from the thousands of tiny needles piercing his body was another. But the one scenario I certainly hadn't predicted was an apology.

He surprises me even further by holding out his hand. "I think we need a fresh introduction. I'm Will Darcy. Pleased to meet you."

And because I'm still kind of in shock and wondering if I'm dreaming this moment, I limply let him shake my hand.

His eyes drift to the cover of my novel and I blush furiously. Oh, why am I not reading something more intelligent like War and Peace or Crime and Punishment?

To my surprise, his lips are curving upwards into...

Gasp! Is that another smile? Two in one night? Somebody had better call for the doctor!

"That's one of my sister's favourite books," he says and his voice has taken on a gentle quality I've never noticed before.

"Really? Your sister likes Gone with the Wind too?"

His smile is fond. "Very much so. When we were children and she wanted to play dress-up, she would always want to dress up as Scarlett O'Hara. She had this emerald-green party dress and the cutest feather hat..."

I'm stunned. Sitting in this relaxed cafe setting and talking about his younger sister, Will Darcy actually sounds almost...human.

"And let me guess. Because you were a boy, you had to dress up as one of her beaus. Ashley, perhaps?"

Alright, so I'm still mad at the guy, but I can't resist teasing him a little. Although it's admittedly hard to picture him in the role of weak, wimpy Ashley.

He smiles wryly. "Actually, no. That honour always went to..."

He trails off, frowns and is quiet for a moment. Seeing his green eyes turn stormy, I curiously wonder what's on his mind.

"I was dark-haired, so I was always Rhett," he says finally.

Sardonic, sarcastic, flippant, almost cruel in his words and his actions...

Yes, somehow picturing Will Darcy as Rhett Butler isn't too much of a stretch for my imagination.

"I've never been able to forgive Rhett for what he did to Scarlett," I say. "If he had ever really loved her, he would never have left in the way that he did at the end. You don't just abandon people that you love."

Darcy looks amused. "Are you suggesting that Rhett Butler never loved Scarlett O'Hara?" he questions.

And I suppose, given that Gone with the Wind is considered to be a romance novel, it does seem like an odd proposition to put forward.

"Not at all," I protest.

"But he never loved her enough to stick around during the moments when she needed him the most.

He wasn't around when she was widowed and didn't know what to do with a newborn baby. He abandoned her on the road to Rough and Ready, potentially leaving her at the mercy of Yankee soldiers and uppity Carpetbags. And when she finally realises, accepts and reveals that she loves him, he rejects her and tells her his love has worn out. That proves it wasn't true love. True love is self-sacrificing. True love should..."

The corners of Darcy's eyes crinkle and I notice absently that he actually has laugh lines.

"Should have a happy ending?" he quips with a smirk.

And even though that hadn't been what I was planning to say at all, I do agree with the sentiment somewhat.

"Yes," I say decisively. "True love should have a happy ending."

Darcy looks at me thoughtfully and I expect him to come forward with a smart comment about Romeo and Juliet or some other fictional love couple that didn't get the happy ending.

As always, he surprises me.

"You know, I really must apologise for my abysmal behaviour towards you on that first day," he says quietly.

"If it's any consolation, I had to resolve a family issue that day and was not in the best of moods. I was also extremely sleep-deprived. I know that is little excuse for my inappropriate words to Charlie, but..."

A rush of anger flares up in me. My impulsive temper strikes again.

"Inappropriate? That's the understatement of the year!" I exclaim bitterly. "Don't use a family issueas an excuse for your blatant prejudice!"

Darcy seems stunned by the force of my words and when I suggest that his family issue is a mere excuse for prejudice, he actually clenches his fists.

"How dare you stoop to such a conclusion?" he growls angrily. "How dare you presume to know anything about my family?"

"How dare I? How dare you presume, on our very first meeting no less, that I was nothing but a disorganised drunk?"

"Well, you cannot deny that you were inebriated and tardy to the first tutorial of the semester," Darcy says coolly.

Now it's my turn to ball my fists and although I'm dying to make a hot retort, I've just remembered that this guy is my tutor. And that it's probably not the best idea to get into a fight with someone who influences your grades. No matter how much of a tosser he is.

For my sake, more than his, I quietly pick up my cup and stash my novel into my bag. And then I walk away.

"Where do you think you're going?" he calls after me.

"Home!" I say defiantly, not even bothering to look around.

Although I'm walking as fast as I can, it doesn't take long for him to catch up with me. I blame the heels. How do some women walk all day in these things?

"Don't be silly. You can't go out in that storm!" he protests.

"Watch me," I say, as I put my bag over my head and walk to the bus stop.

Yes, it's still pouring with rain. Thankfully, I can see a bus pulling up at the curb.

The driver notices my bedraggled state and kindly stops right in front of me. I smile gratefully as I start to fiddle in my wallet for my Travel 10.

"Go ahead, love," the driver says sympathetically. "Looks like you've had a rough night."

"Thank you. You have no idea," I say with appreciation, as I head to a seat in the back. It's then that I realise that Darcy has followed me on board.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hiss at him.

"Catching the bus with you," he says mildly, sitting beside me.

An empty bus filled with available seats and he still wants to sit next to me?

"No, no. I need some peace and quiet and I'm obviously not going to get it if you're in my immediate proximity," I snap.

He shrugs and ignores my words as he settles back comfortably.

I decide that I really can't put up with his smart-arsed smugness any longer. I start to gather up my things and press the red button in front of me, signalling that I want to get off at the next stop.

"Hey, what are you doing? You can't get off now. It's still raining!" Darcy exclaims in alarm.

"And you cannot tell me what I can and can't do," I say simply.

The driver looks back in his rearview mirror. As if our arguing wasn't conspicuous enough, Darcy and I are the only passengers on the bus.

He looks suspiciously at Darcy, obviously wondering if he's my abusive husband or something.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asks gently.

"I'm fine," I say calmly, knowing that any distress on my part will probably result on getting Darcy kicked out of the bus. And since I've already made up my mind to get off at the next stop, that would be immensely frustrating.

Darcy grabs my arm as I try to leave my seat.

"Please, Ellie. It's pouring out there. Stay in the bus," he pleads.

"I just live at SUV. I can catch a taxi or wait for another bus. I could even walk it if I wanted to," I retort.

I try to move away and he grips my arm more tightly.

In my defence, I didn't mean to do what happened next. Really.

It all just happened so fast and it was kind of an automatic reflex because he had grabbed my arm...

Thwack!

My sudden slap doesn't exactly send Darcy reeling backwards, but it's loud enough that the crack resounds around the empty bus.

His eyes widen in surprise as he brings his hand up to his cheek, which I bet is really stinging right now.

The bus driver pulls up at the next bus stop and immediately turns off the engine.

"Alright, that's it. I refuse to take the two of you as passengers together. One of you will have to get off now," he says calmly.

"Fine, that's me," I say, already prepared to leave.

"No, actually, it'll be me," Darcy corrects. He slides out of his seat and walks to the front of the bus. He pauses to talk to the driver for a moment and I stare out the window, refusing to look at him.

"Oh, thank you, son," I hear the driver say and I assume that Darcy was saying sorry. From the pleased look on the driver's face, Darcy has clearly done a better job of apologising to him than he has to me.

I only look up again when the bus pulls away. It's getting late and I really want to go to sleep right now. However I've never been comfortable about sleeping on buses and despite my tired state, I'm sticking to my convictions. Besides, what if I miss my stop? There's no-one here to wake me up.

QVB, Town Hall, George Street, World Square, Chinatown...

I smile for the first time as we begin to pass all the familiar landmarks. Every one of those landmarks is bringing me a step closer to home and my bed.

It's not until we zoom past Victoria Park that I start to wonder if something's wrong. Shouldn't we be stopping somewhere around here?

"Excuse me, sir!" I call. "I think we've gone past my stop!"

No response from the man in front. He just keeps on driving.

I thump the red button repeatedly and he still doesn't show any signs of slowing down.

For the first time, I feel a chord of fear strike my heart and wonder if I should have let Darcy stay on the bus, after all.

I hastily fumble around in my bag and pull out my phone, figuring that I should call Jenna or Charlotte. Better to be paranoid than dead, as my sister always says.

No reception! I might have guessed.

And just as I'm wondering if I can crawl out of the emergency exit without the driver noticing, he suddenly announces, "We're here."

I glance up cautiously, only to gape in surprise. For we're directly outside the on-campus university village where Charlotte and I live.

How...why...what?

The driver looks a little worried when he sees me still sitting.

"Something the matter, love? This is the right place, isn't it?"

"Yes," I finally manage to whisper. "But how..."

And then a little lightbulb switches on in my mind. Darcy leaning over to talk to the bus driver...the bus driver eagerly thanking him...

I'm not sure how to phrase this delicately, so I just blurt out what's on my mind.

"Did he...did he pay you to do this?"

The driver grins proudly and waves a bill at me.

"A hundred bucks," he says, smiling broadly.

"You may argue with your boyfriend, love, but a man who shells out that kind of dosh to make sure his girl gets home safely is alright in my book."

I swallow. "He's not... I mean, I'm not..."

But I can tell the driver's waiting for me to exit the bus and is probably keen to go home. He doesn't need to hear me babbling right now.

And so I leave.

When I enter our apartment, Charlotte's bedroom door is closed and I am profoundly relieved. I desperately want to talk about the events which have transpired that evening and decide I'll make up with Charlotte in the morning.

But right now, I'm just too tired. And all I want to do is sleep.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep. And I dream all night about an infuriating green-eyed man.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter! You have NO IDEA how happy your kind words and encouragement have made me. =)

Freshly baked apple strudel for my anonymous reviewers (you know who you are!), CuriousGeorgie, ExtendableEars, Pasqui, Sissinghurst, Harriate Slate, head in the clouds 14, Sammie28, Courtney CS, WriteWriteWrite, Korrigan37, lynniern, Avanell, dieteke, rena, Zalaril, Weave the Magic, loveandsqualor, purplegirl-af, dontstealmyvitaminies, Awesomest Tiger, tom, Lily, Dana, tcdavis, luvlit19, Cathy King and amroush.

I'm sorry that I couldn't give Darcy and Ellie a nice romantic moment in the rain.

Believe me, I would have liked to, but they're both very stubborn characters and were horrified when I made the suggestion. Ellie even threatened to boycott this story at the very thought of it! Although I suspect Darcy would have interested.

But I hope you enjoyed this chapter, anyway.

I won't be offering any more bribes or incentives for leaving reviews. I think I've made my feelings on the matter quite clear. All I can promise you is more chapters of this story.

I'm just going to go with my gut instincts and trust that if you really do like the story, you'll leave a review and let me know. And even if you don't like it, you'll tell me why and offer some constructive criticism for improvement.

Remember, reviews are the fuel for a writer's pen. Or in this case, the fuel for a writer's laptop. =)

What's going to happen in the next chapter? I have a few different ideas but even I'm not sure which one I'll use yet. What would you like to see happen? I promise to read all suggestions, no matter how crazy! I'm looking forward to seeing what you'll come up with...