A/N: Well, it's official, I'm not dead yet. I haven't updated in quite the longest time and for that, I apologize. I also realize that this isn't one of those short ones that I have written before this. And, well. I sound really snotty right now. So, to that I say, "Jeronimo!!!!" Ahem. Right. Now, I say, "Let's see you get mooned by the Archbishop of Canterbury!" And on with the story!

Rinoa's POV

I entered the lounge, looking to see if Squall was there yet. Sure, I did say nine and the current time is seven… But I guess I'm just ahead of myself a bit… Or not.

The cigarette smoke clouded the air above and the people chatted away happily as they chatted away, talking about whatever it is that makes people happy. Everyone was either talking or listening to the person beside or across them. All except for one person, alone in his booth, drinking shot after shot of tequila.

I walked over casually to a certain brown haired driver that I wasn't supposed to meet for another two hours. He looked like he was down in the dumps, thinking about whatever it was that made his day more complicated… Okay, well, I didn't know this for sure but I was right because he looked up at me with a glazed contemplative look in his eyes.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked, sounding clichéd, pointing at the opposite side of the booth.

He shook his head and went back to his shots. Fine, I've broken ice before. Damn straight I have. I even fell through it too!

"I know I'm not supposed to be here for another two hours but I wanted to eat supper." I started off.

"By all means, it's not a crime to eat supper in front of me." He said as he downed yet another shot. There was only enough for one more shot in the bottle. I had to wonder just exactly how long he had been here because I was not going to eat if someone was going to hurl all over my food.

"Well, um, you wanna just stop drinking for a moment? Please?" I asked politely, eyeing the bottle uneasily. Hey, it's not my fault that I don't like vomit in my food. I don't know about you but my food does not need a hint of je ne sais quoi.

"If it bugs you." He said in a manner that was uncalled for.

"Yes it does." I replied, "I need you to have a clear mind when you answer me though."

"Well, I'm not seeing double yet so my mind's clear enough." And he wasn't slurring his words so he mustn't have drunk so much yet.  That was a good thing.

"Good. Um… I don't know how to bring up the subject and I'm not even sure you want to talk about it…" I began to square dance around the topic. Earlier today, it seemed like such an important thing to tell him… But now, I was getting second thoughts about it.

"Talk about what?" He asked somewhat annoyed. I guess I just have to go about it brashly. He took the empty shot glass and filled it: Just in case, I suppose.

"Well, really, there are two things I wanted to talk to you about." I started; suddenly, my courage just evaporated. I couldn't say another word… until he poked and prodded about it.

'Stop stalling and get out with it." He said. His eyes weren't really calm and I could tell that they were trying to withhold a secret from me: That he was about to reach out across the table and strangle it out of me, if needed be. It wasn't much of a secret… I got that look every time I tried to bring up an important issue with my father.

"Very well. The first is that," I started, but a thought interrupted my train. An amused smile played at my lips and I saw a way I could torture this poor and already unfortunate soul before me, "Actually, I can't tell you that. That would be showing favoritism amongst the organizers… Too bad!"

"What? That's not fair! If you can't tell me, you shouldn't bring it up!" He cried in a sudden outburst, disturbing the harpist and all eyes were focused on us.

I turned to face everyone and gave them a slightly embarrassed wave and a weak smile. Of course, they stared for a moment and then turned back to whatever it was that they had been doing, be it chatting or eating or laughing or being obnoxious or trying to pick someone up at the bar or… You know what? I really couldn't care less about what they were doing.

"So what? Who said I wasn't allowed to have some fun? Besides, didn't you notice? I'm a woman. I'm meant to do these things. It's in my nature." I looked at him smuggingly.

"Whatever. So what's the other "Important matter" you wanted to talk to me about?" He asked, getting over the loss of the first by simply acting as if it didn't exist.

I sighed. It wasn't something pleasant. Fact is, it was far from pleasant. It was something that past loves might tell you about. Something that only an ex would know: The feeling of a bad break up. To bring it up is like stabbing the knife right back into someone's heart.

"I know about your past relationship with Sheryl." I hung my head, the smugness drained from me. I had to tell him... didn't I? Honest to God, I was really sure about that... until now. When the words actually came out of my mouth, suddenly, it seemed as though it would've been better had I not said anything.

Squall's POV

Well that stung like a bitch. I failed to see how it was important.... How it was remotely relevant... Why she had to say that...

The words stung in my mind, over and over, jabbing at my defenseless soul. Sure, I didn't love Sheryl to the point of utter pain when we split and decided it was better if we had never laid eyes on each other again.

I played around with the full shot glass, nearly spilling it a couple times. The tequila might be able to soothe the pain in my wounds and perhaps maybe even numb it so that I couldn't feel it until morning. Taking a chance, I let the liquor sting my throat as it slid down, making my pain recede for a brief moment.

I looked up at her and thought about that morning, how she and Sheryl fought. I think I may have forgotten to mention it then, but hey, the cat's outta the bag now, might as well confess.

*Flashback*

It was four years ago, when I was sixteen, innocent and still exploring the simplicity of being a teenager. I had a fling. I wasn't the only one in the history of man to have a fling. We had gone to school together, Balamb High School, and were in the same history class. Big deal.

One day, one of my friends and I crashed this party that was supposed to be the "Party Of The Century". Sure, I thought, there've been so many parties in this century; how was this one going to be the one?

Nevertheless, we went anyways, met up with a few people that I knew... the sports athletes were there, as were the 'Pretty and Rich' and the 'Above Average Simpletons'. Where did I fall? Who cares? It's beside the point. After an hour of walking around, I ran into Stacey What's-Her-Name and she introduced me to Sheryl. She was okay looking then, and wasn't as snobby as she is today.

We danced once before I stepped on her toes a couple of times. Calling it quits, we went out on the balcony to stare talk and cool down... It was a house party and it was deadly in there... Too hot.

We talked for quite some time, getting to know each other and I asked her out. Needless to say, she accepted. That's how we became an item in the first place.

We went out on a date and decided to go out again next week.

I now admit that that was a mistake because by the end of the month, she'd already jumped into my pants... Literally. We did the "Full Monty" and come the next morning, she had left... With my clothes. Well, being sixteen, I didn't go home; I told my parents that I was spending the night at a friend's house while we spent the night in the car.

Great. She had taken everything that was bigger than her fist with her and left me my keys at least. Well, it could've been worse... And well, the worst was yet to come.

My parents like to walk a lot. So, naturally, the front door had to me at least half a kilometer away from the door. They went for the full one thousand meters. There was no shrubbery, therefore making my run for the door so much harder.

What had I done to her? Then it struck me: Nothing. This was 'Crazy' Sheryl Mears. Of, I had ignored that until now. Great. So, here I was, in my car, driving home, in the nude, while people stared at me funny through my windows. I only had a Learner's permit at the time and I ran into a cop. Thankfully, he didn't pull me over, or worse, get me out of the car.

When I got home, I saw my parents' car parked in the driveway. The neighbors were home and most were nosy people. The only one who didn't give a crap was the blind man three houses down on the opposite side. And, everyone was outside, working on the lawn... As were my parents.

"Hey, you're... Why aren't you wearing anything?" my mother asking me as she strode over to the car. I was caught and there was nothing that I could do about it.

"It's a long story." I said simply, not wanting to answer questions. "Can I just walk into the house behind you?"

"No. You refuse to tell me why my son is currently in his birthday suit. Last time I saw you naked, I was giving you a bath and you were playing with the rubber ducky and your hair was spiked up because of the shampoo and bubbles in your eyes and-" She started but I cut her off.

"Mom! You're embarrassing me. Now, will you get your dear ol' son to the door without ripping his pride away?" I asked impatiently.

Maybe that wasn't the way you spoke to your mother, but what're you to do when she goes on about giving you a bath at eighteen months old? Well, needless to say, she walked away and told my father. Any normal father would get quite pissed off is his son showed up at home the next day in his birthday suit... But mine was thrilled. He started laughing so hard and went inside to get something. Next thing I knew, he strolled over leisurely, hands behind his back.

"Hi son. How was you're night at Steve's?" He asked, ignoring my current 'Adam-In-The-Garden' state.

"Great. Until he dared me to go home naked and kept y clothes to make sure I wouldn't slip them on in the car." I lied.

"Oh really. Well, that's great." He said airily... Before he took his hands out from behind his back and blinded me with the flash... From the picture he'd just taken. He laughed as he ran off to put the camera away from anywhere I might think of to keep his precious picture safe. When he exited once more, he went to join my mother to take care of the flowerbeds under the windows.

Great. I had both of my parents working against me. there was no way I'd make it to the door with all my pride intact. Damn Sheryl.

Hesitantly, I opened the door and poked my head outside to check up on who was watching. My neighbor to my left looked up to greet me... Until he saw my current state. He shook his head and called his wife over and pretty soon, the eyes of everyone on the block were watching me. That was the second worse day of my life.

I closed the driver's side and crawled over to the passenger's side, opened the door and bolted for it.

The neighbors all watched me as I ran, my pride and joy exposed for everyone to see. The kids stopped playing and looked at me funny while their mothers tried to cover their children's eyes. The fathers cheered me on as their wives slapped them over the head, causing them to change their tunes and scold me for not having the decency to cover myself up with at least a newspaper.

I stopped, turned to them all and shouted, "I would if my girlfriend hadn't taken anything that was bigger than her first out of my car!" and continued to pursue the remaining ten feet to the front door.

It wasn't a smart move because my parents heard me. They looked up, both shocked, but for different reasons. My mother was shocked to hear that her son had slept with a girl before wedlock. My father, however, was shocked that he had won the bet. "Pay up, Luce." he'd said with a certain smugness. Then it dawned on him: He'd never given me The Talk.

I slammed the door behind me and ran straight to my room, past four maids who blushed upon seeing me. I slammed the door behind me and shoved on a pair of boxers. Downstairs, I heard my parents storm up to my room. My father pounded on the door, demanding that I open it as soon as I had a pair of boxers on. My mother was yelling at me through the door, but I didn't listen to her.

I threw on a pair of khaki shorts and a Guns 'n Roses tee shirt. I opened the door, only to be pushed down on the bed by my father and mother started with her tirade of how she was disappointed in me for "Seeing so reckless" and asked if I'd used a condom.

My father, however, wasn't so disappointed in me and banished my mother from the room as he went on the 'The Talk', thanked me making him win the bet and then asked if Sheryl was 'Any good'. Disgusted, I threw him out before I shut the door and walked straight over to the phone.

I called Sheryl and asked what the hell her clothes snatching was all about. Her response:

"Remember in third grade when we had that assembly in front of the whole school and we were to award the awards? Remember how you pulled down my skirt and underwear? For all to see? Well, consider it a 'thank you' because I made it into the yearbook this year as 'So-Long-Skirt-'n-Panties' Sheryl."

I hadn't thought of that in a long time... A week after I had done it... It was probably the worst thing that I had done... What had she done to make me do that in the first place? She accused me of cheating on the vocabulary test... Put glue on my seat... Spilled apple juice on the crotch of my pants... pushed me into a fifth grade girl's chest... And I had mortified her once... and that was when it stopped. She left me alone... Until now.

"Well, I'll come by to pick up my clothes and that's the last time we'll ever lay eyes on each other again. Got it? I don't want to ever see you again."

And that was that...

Until this morning. She accused me of following her to Deling and purposely trying to see her. She said that her father owned the hotel. A lie. The hotel belonged to Caraway. Caraway had only one daughter. And then she claimed that I wanted her back. Never. I didn't want her. I had found someone else, I'd told her. She suddenly turned sickeningly sweet and said I was bluffing. I gave her the same smile and told her that I wasn't... And that was when Rinoa saw us.

*End Flashback*

I looked at the girl who sat across me, her head hung and her hair blocking her face from view.

"How'd you know?" I asked her, a little scared myself.

"My friend used to go there, Stacey Price."

And it clicked. Stacey What's-Her-Name... Stacey Price.

"Alright. Is that it?" I asked her... the tequila starting to take effect.

"Yes. And I will not have the whore's leftovers. Stay away from me." and she left.

A/N: Oi vey! Anyways, this chapter was longer, so cut me some slack and I will try to post the next sooner. Piece of advice: The extra encouragement lies in the blueish-purpleish box down there that says 'Submit review'. Trust me on that. Feedback is a good thing. Love it, hate it, I'd take it all! See you in the next chapter… if you can coax it out of me!