Five Dollar Mocha: 11

Sydney finds herself thinking of Michael at the most random times. Of course, what's not to think of? His gorgeous eyes or amazing smile or the amazing body that she's only imagined.

She wants that to change tonight. She and Michael have been dating for almost two months but have yet to spend the night together.

Tonight, he has invited her to his apartment for dinner (Italian) and possibly a movie (some chick flick he'll let her choose but they'll probably ignore). All day she has been trying to think of the perfect outfit. Aside from her obvious awkwardness with Michael, Francie has become a very close friend of Sydney's. In the two classes they have together, they passed notes and debated the style Sydney was to go for tonight. Casual had been ruled out almost immediately, and by the end of class Sydney is left to choose between ultra-sexy and ultra-conservative. (Even she is confused by where these choices appeared from.)

On the one hand, dressing ultra-sexy almost guarantees missing the dinner and the movie. But ultra-conservative either turns him on or turns him off. It all depends on him.

She sits on the edge of her bed, staring into her closet. Her eyes have traveled over the revealing little-black-dress hanging in the corner numerous times, but they also slide to boot-cut-jeans-and-tight-long-sleeved-shirt in the other side of the closet. Finally, she comes to a conclusion. She slips the dress over the jeans, smoothing it over the lines of the pants.

Ugly as it seemed when she first thought of it, Sydney is amazed by how great the outfit looks. Coupled with black boots, she almost congratulates herself out loud.

Just as she starts to gather her hair into a messy half-ponytail, the doorbell rings. She smiles; she's expecting Francie. She opens the door and begins the hairstyle again.

"Hi."

She freezes, hands still in her hair. "Michael!"

"Sorry I'm early. You—" He pauses and draws his eyes from her head to the floor, taking her in completely. "You look amazing. And I'm not just saying that."

She blushes, hairs pricking at his words, as she shuts the door behind him. "Thank you. But I still have to put my hair up." He catches her wrist as she pulls her fingers through her hair.

"Don't." Her wrist is still in his hand. She glances at it and returns her gaze to his eyes. God they're so green and hazel and— "I love it either way."

She lunges at him with her lips and her hands. Why did she wear the dress over the pants? It's just more to take off! He kisses her back just as passionately as she him, but after a few seconds he pulls away. She looks up at him, hands on his chest, and his words are throaty.

"I thought we were going to my place." She closes her eyes and nuzzles him before softly kissing him again. "If this is the punishment for staying here, I've got no problem with it." She smiles up at him, words escaping from where lust lies now. He opens the door and she threads her fingers through his as he leads her to his car.