Try
Chapter Three
Love...At Pier Seven?
Perhaps it came with the territory as a top-ranked duelist, either that, or else he had an uncanny sixth sense about things that were just imminent.
Or was it simply the distracting sound of the hastily approaching footfalls behind him that gave it away?
Before any words could be exchanged, he turned to face his intended target with a well-versed air of detached composure, a like reaction were he meeting with any one of his business associates instead. Showing emotion would really accomplish nothing but mixed signals, and tonight, he wanted to be read loud and clear—none of this ambiguous, walking-around-in-circles crap.
An ending would be assigned to their unfinished game…
He had mentally played with the idea of being left hanging, or 'stood up' (if this were an actual, true date, which it wasn't…) as he waited, but that possibility was a safe, one-in-a-something chance of happening, based upon the superficial details of what he could gather from her personality…
That bubbly façade of hers was just that—a front—fickleness was most probably a foreign concept to her, no matter how much she appeared to reflect that label at first glance.
He'd seen firsthand how loyal, how dependable she could be -- following blindly after Yugi and the rest of their like-minded, friendship-touting ilk of simpletons throughout the course of Duelist Kingdom and so on, was proof enough it could almost be tangible.
With that in mind, keeping one small, trivial promise, even to him, should be a relatively painless effort on her behalf.
Well almost, he decided, silently taking in the rest of her appearance, watching intently as she fought to pace her erratic breathing, chest heaving all the while under the added weight of her powder blue, button-down twill coat, her already petite frame cut in half as she stood hunched over, pale fingers splayed on her bare knees for a source of support, hair falling in a messy, tangled array of snowflake-encrusted tendrils in front of her eyes.
A magical sight to see; winter incarnate.
She had obviously been running to get there, and she was, he raised his forearm slightly to register the time on his wristwatch, twenty-three minutes behind their appointed time.
Despite the graceless nature of her entrance, the truth remained that she was late, any later and she would've met with the ghost of her good intentions.
As far as he was concerned, he was being unnecessarily gracious and forgiving with her; he still had a company to run, after all.
"About time you showed up, Gardner."
At his candid remark, she raised her snowflake-carpeted head ever so slowly to look up at him, and for the first time in days upon innumerable days, their eyes met, a long-awaited meeting of two equally brilliant blues and, for reasons unknown to him, he felt reassured to know that the same tension, the same fire still lent to the rude sparkle dancing in her eyes.
That look, he knew, was meant solely for him. And nobody else.
"Unlike you," she breathed, placing a finger deliberately on her lips to flick a disobedient strand of hair sticking awkwardly to the side of her mouth, angry blush creeping on the apples of her cheeks as well as the bridge of her nose as she spoke, "I don't have the luxury of having a year round, twenty-four hour, weekly limousine service at my disposal, so… tough cookie, mister!"
Her lips parted slightly to make room for a quasi-sinister smile as she stood to her full, daunting height of five feet and six inches, before setting into a straight line, a line that, he thought, was much too demure if not severe for the delicateness of her face. This small movement had caught the light of the nearest light source around--a lamppost just a few feet away from where they stood, and that was when he was informally introduced to the curious sight of…lip-gloss.
A shimmery substance painted artfully, enticingly on each lip, upper and lower, not so much as encroaching the natural limitations of her lip line, looking like a kind of decorative icing.
He liked how it was noticeable without begging for attention -- the epitome of subtle, embodied in a lip-gloss.
How quaint.
Even he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that she looked quite attractive, the way she was, the way she looked at him, her eyes lined provocatively in black…
Before his thoughts could drag him completely under in a tempting, uncontrollable spiral of lust, his mind expertly reverted back to the matter at hand.
He hated the way in which she held him unknowingly paralysed with fascination.
"What do you say if we find somewhere more…convenient to discuss?"
She crossed her elbows, tossing her hair casually from side to side to be rid of the snow in her hair, a seemingly innocent action in and of itself, but coming from her, it encouraged him to suspect that she knew perfectly well the kind of effect she had impressed upon him the moment she turned that dangerous sly smile in his direction.
There was no question in his mind that she was going to try and match him, move for calculatingly cold move.
However, if she thought he could be bested so easily, she didn't know Seto Kaiba at all.
He then relinquished the black umbrella he held in his hands and carefullyoffered it to her, a very gentlemanly gesture to anyone who would possibly happen by such a tender scene, but secretly, he was doing it more for his sake than hers. Once again, their eyes made playful contact, both were poised and ready not to back down, until the dubious light in her eyes finally gave way to a softer light, speaking of what could be interpreted as silent but sincere gratitude.
"Would... hot cocoa be involved?" her fingers wrapping around the unusual straight handle.
There was a small pause between them as he feigned to look really thoughtful about his choices.
"Possibly." He shrugged. "If it'll help to pass the time that much more quickly with you around, that is."
"You are the most--,"
"Now's not the time to fish me compliments, Gardner," he interrupted, seizing her gently by the arm, inadvertently pulling her close to the invisibly defined space surrounding him that just screamed of something vulnernable and intimate, leading her in a direction opposite from the docks, "we have to clarify more pressing matters first."
The brunette was hard put to swallow her differences (along with some caustic insults) concerning the object of her undecided, or perhaps it'd be better to say, misguided affections, especially when he was being so damn …condescending!
Téa took one final glance behind her, noting that their secret meeting spot indeed had a name: Pier # 7.
She didn't quite consider herself to be an overly sentimental person, but there was an uplifting, warm sensation that had passed over her to know such asmall, trivialfact…and wherever they were headed to now, she felt she could face with a little less anxiety.
It felt good to be on his arm, just this once.
The faint, clean smell of his cologne, being in such a close proximity of each other as they were, wasn't so bad either.
Author's Note: Please forgive the abruptness, and the tardiness of this installment. It's been quite the challenge to work on this story, because things are so unexpected and are never easy as they appear to be...
In any case, I hope everyone enjoyed the slight fluffiness in this chapter (I hope it wasn't too corny uu;), and I'm sorry I haven't really gotten to the 'date' aspect of the story yet, but it will happen! ;D
Thank you for reading.
Don't forget to leave areview! It'd be most appreciated.
Millefiore