Disclaimer: Anything appearing here that has previously appeared in any other form does not belong to me. No copyright infringement intended.
AN: I had heaps of fun writing this one so I hope you guys enjoy it! Please review!
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Kiss Me Twice, Girl4: It was just another day for her as she crawled down the stairs of her home and dropping into her seat at the dining table laden with breakfast delicacies, greeted her parents good morning. Their cheerful reply resounded in her ears as she reached across for a slice of toast before she realized something was different.
She looked up cautiously, observing her grinning parents through narrowed eyes. Something was definitely different. Not wrong, she didn't think, just…different.
"Why are you guys holding hands?" she asked suspiciously.
"Tamiko Kei!" her mother rebuked, though with a reckless grin still hanging off her face. "We are married you know!"
"No, I didn't mean that…I know you're married," she muttered, embarrassed. She tried to explain. "It's just that, you guys don't usually hold hands. Especially not in the morning. You're both usually too….too…you know." She pulled a face, a gruesome imitation of the older members of society as they were before the required daily dose of caffeine.
"Kei, show a bit of respect," her father warned.
"Sorry. But you know what I mean."
"Today's a special day that's all," her mother giggled, childishly endearing as she tugged her partner towards her to plant a quick kiss on his lips.
Kei grimaced and about to express her opinions on too much family sharing, a thought struck her and she gazed at them, horror residing in her eyes.
"I didn't forget your anniversary, did I? Oh mum, dad, I'm so sor…" A shake of her mother's head left her words trailing. Exasperation crept up on her. "Well, what is it then?"
"Kei, dear, how could you possibly forget the one day dedicated to young lovers? Today is…"
"Madams, sir. A Valentine delivery has arrived for the young mistress." A maid stepped into the dining hall, dressed smartly in the black and blue colours of the household staff, interrupting Kei's mother politely. In her hand she held a small envelope, which she then offered to the confused girl.
A Valentine delivery for her? She racked her brains, attempting to realize exactly who it could be, all the while her fingers wrenching the envelope open eagerly. A single sheet of card slid smoothly out, a carefully perfected scrawl written on it.
A rose for every time you've insulted me and I've forgiven you.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Mimasaka Akira.
She looked up to face the endless multitude of red flora that streamed through the door, each bouquet carried by a loyal servant of the Tamiko household.
"Kei," her mother said and Kei glanced up at her tone. "Remember what your father and I said about meeting any guy you chose to see. Who is this person? Why haven't you told us about him?"
Wordlessly, Kei handed over the card, her eyes still fixed upon the roses that continued to invade the room. Even without looking, she knew her when her mother's eyes would widen in revelation, as would her father's who would have been reading over the shoulder of his wife.
"Akira? Are we talking about Akira of Mimasaka Enterprises? Father being on the board of directors for Eitoku?"
Her father's voice had grown distant with every word he utter, until he was an external sound as she dissolved into her world of thought. But still, she nodded a reply. "The one and same."
"I never knew you were involved with Mimasaka Akira, Kei."
The subtle eagerness in her mother's faint voice was amusing.
"I'm not," she replied softly, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact.
Half an hour later, she murmured a goodbye to her chauffeur, climbed out of the luxurious backseat of the Bentley and after a furtive glance around, she made her way up the stone steps of Eitoku.
Akira was being nice, extraordinarily nice, but somehow the idea of attracting the attention of an F4 member still scared her. She wasn't one of those people who stood in awe of F4 and sucked up to them at every chance possible. Rather, she was one of the small minority who stood in awe and stood far away in awe. She sighed, confused with too many thoughts and fears, and rubbed her head. She couldn't be bothered justifying her decision of avoiding Mimasaka Akira today; she would rather just say it was a gut instinct.
A proverbial swish of long locks heading her way in the far end of the corridor caused her to panic, disappearing quickly around the first corner she came to. She waited, her heart palpitating, pressing her body hard against the wall as if hoping she would blend into the stone, and only when he had passed, deep in conversation with Soujiro, an occasional gesture of the hand and the usual cluster of admiring ladies behind, only then did she scuttle hastily for her locker.
A glance at her watch told that her evasion of Akira had set her back a few minutes and her first class began far too soon for her liking. She yanked opened the small door of her locker, springing back in shock as a flurry of red cascaded its way out. She closed her eyes, one hand upon her heart, then slowly opened one, almost afraid that it was an unpleasant gift of love, of red notes from F4 and perhaps the roses sent this morning had only meant to deceive her.
Instead, she was met with the vision of soft petals fluttering down to join the mass burying her feet. She looked up, almost gawking, to find a familiar looking envelope sitting innocently on her History text. And again the casually perfect scrawl:
A rose petal for every time you're going to insulted me and I'm going to forgive you.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Mimasaka Akira.
She groaned, knocking her head lightly against the neighbouring lockers in vexation but later on, as she closed the door on a few deliberately ignored petals and made her way down the empty corridors to class, she couldn't deny the smallest of smiles to pass by her lips.
The school hours slipped by without any other roses, envelopes or Mimasaka Akira in sight and when the last bell had rung, she had shed her vigilant look-out for him. Waving a final goodbye to the last of her friends, she made her way through the rapidly emptying school halls, humming a little tune.
Life was suddenly looking up again it seemed. Tenori-sensei, the Art teacher, who so rarely complimented, had praised her recent art piece to the sky this morning and Kei still glowed with the memory. A friend had invited her to a girls only sleepover that night, in order to celebrate their singledom this particular Valentine's day. The History assignment was due on Friday; there was only one last finalizing session with Akira before she was free. Free at last from him and his tantalizing smiles, his narrow eyes that infiltrated her head and left her with confused thoughts, free at last from all his persuasive words and sly touches that made her wonder stuff that just perhaps she shouldn't be wondering…
But she shook her head. She wouldn't think about Akira today, not if it was within her control.
As she reached the front of the school, the drive in zone, she furrowed her brows in confusion. She had told her driver to pick her up today, she vaguely remembered doing so, but there was no familiar black Bentley in sight, only a silver Mercedes Benz. In fact, it was the only car in the college drive way. A quick glance at her watch told her she had taken her time talking to her friends after class and the journey through the school halls had also been taken leisurely.
But surely her driver wouldn't have left? An infuriating heat washed through her; if he had, then his service with the Tamiko family was over, she would make sure of it.
She eyed the Mercedes carefully. There was the slightest possibility that her parents had purchased a new car that day and not have told her. But then, she had made them promised not to after an irksome experience a few years ago, involving her, a new driver, a new car, and a couple of waiting hours. It was at that moment, as she contemplated approaching the car to be safe, that a person came from the other side of the car, the side hidden from her view. A familiar person with low swinging hair and a characterized stance, as if the very air itself was a feminine curiosity that he longed to handle.
Oh no, Kei thought, groaning inwardly. So much for avoiding him today.
She watched, almost fearful, as he approached her and offered a smile that if she had not known him with the reputation that she did, she would say was half timid. In his left hand was a single red rose, held precariously and she hesitated, but took it when he gave.
"Thanks," she said, not daring to be rude. Avoiding his entrapping eyes, she asked weakly, "You wouldn't happen to know where my driver is, would you? He drives a black Bentley? Latest model?"
"Yeah. I told him I would take you home, if that's alright." She hadn't really been expecting him to know and startled by his response, she looked up and found herself in the very place she had been avoiding initially: the depths of his impish eyes.
"Kei," he said, and she was caught by the underlying coax in his voice; unwilling, as reluctant as she was, she could do nothing more than hear him out now.
He was suddenly closer, much too close for comfort, and he gestured towards the rose that she now held.
"Just one rose this time," he said simply. "To say be my Valentine." And as an afterthought, with a twinkle in his eye, "Please."
She couldn't say she had been expecting this, yet she couldn't say it came much as a surprise either. Flowers could be sent by anyone on Valentine's day; the fact that it was Akira should have made it less important considering he was a patron of many ladies. But in a way, because it was Akira, she realized she to deny him was halfway to impossible.
"Say something," he laughed, and she realized his hand laid lightly on her wrist. Credential place to touch, she thought weakly. Gets him all the girls.
She tore her eyes away from his but his gaze followed hers, imploring a reply. As his other hand found her other wrist, and his fingers played the back of her hand, she felt an intense flush riding through her and swallowed. She had to say something. After a while:
"The rose petals made an awful mess," she murmured, inspecting her toes as they peeked out at her from her black school shoes.
There was a dazed silence, then he erupted into amused laughter, apologizing profusely in the end.
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AN: Please review! Thanks to martian doll, lelepanne, kiri, BlackAmoria, yukihana, Cooking Pot, cuppajava.