LET'S NOT FALL IN LOVE

I

Daidouji Tomoyo had never taken seriously any of her relationships. She had had several boyfriends through her life, and all of her relationships had been so short and irrelevant, that none of them had even celebrated a first anniversary, much less broke her heart. Actually, she didn't care about breakups; she liked them. In her own words, she felt it gave her freedom. That once the love was over, she could simply say goodbye and continue with her life, just as she pleased. That was they way she had worked for the past few years, and she was quite sure that it would keep on happening for the rest of her life. After all, the most important thing to her was herself. Her dreams, her aspirations. In her plans, not even once existed the posibility of falling for a man that could take her away from who she really was, and what she wanted.

Still, all her exboyfriends could tell you the same thing: losing Tomoyo Daidouji was a hard hit. She was, and everybody would say this, the perfect girl. With perfect manners, a beautiful body, and a lovely personality, it was almost impossible not to fall at her feet. Her skin was like porcelain, white and soft as fresh snow, and it gave a quite gorgeous contrast with her long black hair and big black eyes. Also, her lips and cheeks had this natural pinky color that could turn her from cute to sexy in just a couple of seconds. Her teenager years had gifted her with a beautiful hourglass shaped body. Her arms and legs were long and thin, her breasts and butt just had the right size (not so big, and also, not so small), she also had a flat stomach and since was a bit on the short side, it once again gave her the look of a little lady, but a very exquisite one. After all, she was still young: she haven't even turned 25, and she actually used to look way younger than what she really was. If you saw her down the street, you'd say she just turned 20. Her face, resembling a doll, could give you the impression that it had been saved in a photograph, as if the time had stopped; it was like looking at a red rose sleeping in winter.

Her career was all about art. Actually, so did her personal life. Since she was a little girl, she had practiced with painting, acting, singing, photography, until she finally settled for fashion and clothing. She had just graduated a year ago from a famous Fashion Academy, but she had been around in the business since a little longer. All that cause while she was still studying, she was already working for a famous paintor: Tsukishiro Yue.

Tsukishiro Yue was a name that everybody knew. He was a very famous painter, who was actually so versatile, that he didn't have any problem when painting beautiful ladies, wild scenery, or even just potraits. His fame had made him always be on the spotlight, but still, there was something about him that yelled "sadness" and "loneliness". The usual representation of a misunderstood artist. Tsukishiro Yue was already in his forties, but just as Tomoyo, he looked so much younger. He was really tall, and quite skinny; his skin was as pale as wax, with long silver hair, and small blue eyes. His androgynous appearance was his best attribute.

Tomoyo had met Tsukishiro Yue at her last year in college. Tsukishiro had made an appearance during the Academy's Annual Art Week, as an expositor. Being the celebrity he was, he just sat there, let his painting do the work, and wait for the college community to praise him. Tomoyo, on the other hand, was decided to leave a good impression and maybe even get some references for when she started working, and so, with her gorgeous personality and easy talk, she presented him her portfolio, full of her own designs, impressing him with her combinations of colors and textures. Thanks to that, Tsukishiro Yue offered her a job in her own study, helping him to dress his models, and even fixing the scenography of his sceneries, so he could paint them.

That was not the exact job Tomoyo had in mind, but still, she couldn't deny it was a very privileged spot. Working with Tsukishiro had gave Tomoyo the opportunity of managing her time at her own pace, and so she had a lot of opportunities of nurturing her own art. After all, her goal in life was to make the name Daidouji mean something in the fashion industry. She wanted her collections to be at everybody's reach, to be accessible at all times. She was young and wild; her style and attitude showed just that.

But, before she could reach that goal, she first had to start the race. The first months after her graduation, she had focused on designing, confectioning and offering her clothing to each and every one she knew. This had slowly reached higher society status', where for pleasing both men and women whom had a nice income, she had also been required to master interior design, or even personal assistance to dress them for important and private events. She couldn't say no to that. After all, the pay she received was so good that she had being able to buy a nice apartment, fancy clothes, and had no problem whatsoever with the bills. But the most important part was, that to those important people, her opinion was so valuable and needed, that she couldn't feel less than important and appreciated.

Despite all this, her number one source of income (monetary, contacts and inspiration) always came from Yue. He was the only man Tomoyo always went back to. Not in a romantic way, nor a cold and impersonal business partnership. It was just that those two shared the same connection to the art, in general. And if she wanted to make it in that world, the best was to walk through the door that Yue Tsukishiro had already opened for her.

Actually, one of the biggest perks of being under Tsukishior's wings, was that Tomoyo was always invited to important galas and charity events, as the painter's companion.

That was the theme of that night's event, occurred at late winter, in a famous hotel in Tokyo's downtown: an important auction of different art pieces, from wardrobe and scenography, that came from an important Hollywood production, and that in no other way could've ever been on sale.

Yue has been the one that had invited Tomoyo, as always. After all, that was the deal between them: Yue placed her in the starting line, but it was she alone the one that had to make the run. The painter was always invited to be best and exclusive events of the high society, and for her protegee to do her magic, he took her as his companion, to throw her at the wolves so she learned to defend herself, and emerge triumphant.

That had been one of the motives that Tomoyo had been forced to end with some of her ex boyfriends: none of them saw with good eyes that his boss took her to parties, not only as his date, since the painter also did buy her own expensive dresses, or even payed her for the materials that Tomoyo would use to concoct her own creations. To her ex's eyes, it was obvious that if that man invested so much money, time and effort in her, it was only because they were having sex.

But whoever dare to think that, was completely wrong in their assumptions. Yue was really not her type (Tomoyo had no problem dating older or younger than her, but Yue could almost pass as her father and that was just too much), and Daidouji was quite sure that he didn't see her with any sexual desire. That was part of the halo that surrounded her boss. All of him was about art. Including his personal life. When he painted, one could only see abstract figures, and cold colors. That had made Tomoyo think that he didn't know love, that he had never fallen for anyone. And, looking how men walked away so easily, through all her life, Tomoyo couldn't help but ask herself is she alse ever had fallen in love with someone.

For that night's gala, Yue had once again taken care of Tomoyo's image, paying for all the fabrics YTomoyo had required to make her strapless dress that started in a pearl white color and going down (ending at her knees) turned into a darker blue. Yue's contribution had also covered jewelry (a beautiful and delicate collar of diamonds and sapphires that hugged her skinny neck), and the simple but elegant shoes, with a heel of almost 13 cm, that perfectly matched with the blue tones of her dress.

For that night, Tomoyo had picked up her hair in a bun, letting a pair of long locks of hair to embrace the sides of her cheeks. That way, she let her neck and shoulders to be exposed, letting Yue's collar to be the center of attention of her outfit.

If there was something that Tomoyo loved, was to remark her long eyelashes by using a thin line of black eye liner and a thick coat of mascara, and to color her lips in a deep and vibrant red. That night was not the exception, and after giving her cheeks a little dash of pink, she was ready just in time for Tsukishiro to pick her up at her apartment, located in the outskirts of Tokyo.

"Miss Daidouji, you look incredible tonight."

Incredible. The favorite word of Yue Tsukishiro. He had never, not even once, called a woman pretty, or beautiful, or sexy… No, he wasn't up for idiotic superficial remarks. For Yue, everything that surrounded him was art: things, sceneries, even people. Thats why you can't call art "handsome". For him, Tomoyo was art, and in a way, she also thought of him like that.

"You also look sublime, Yue."

"You ready? Don't want to be late."

Tomoyo smiled at him, and hurried to grab his arm. They walked down the stairs that way, until he let go of her arm when helping her enter the limo that was already waiting for them. The ride was short; only fifteen minutes, not talking to each other, surrounded in silence. After all, Yue was just like that. The more things he could keep for himself, the better for him. Even if Tomoyo really wanted the details of the event they were heading that night, he wouldn't say a word. The only thing the girl knew, was that the gala was set to happen in the first floor of a famous hotel, and that it was organized by Yue's twin brother, named Tsukishiro Yukito, whom she still hadn't met yet.

Maybe that was the thing that she most expected from the event. Knowing a bit more about Yue, coming from someone that was not her boss. After all, Yue rarely shared any information about himself. He didn't talk that much, and when he did, it was straight to the point.

Same as Yue, Tsukishiro Yukito was an important and famous man. As if it was part of the Tsukishiro gene, Yukito was also involved in the art industry, but in a different scenario: life had made him the owner of his own cinematographic studio, a very big and important one, and so, his art covered a bit more of the spectrum, from interior design for the scenography, to the dressing of the actors, and the photography for the movies and photo sessions to present and sell his representatives.

But, when they were only fifteen minutes into the party, Tomoyo knew that it might take a while for Yue to introduce her to Tsukishiro Yukito. Every minute it passed, she was more and more sure that such encounter would occur until the end of the event. It was quite obvious that her boss' twin would be quite busy taking care of the other guests, and knowing how little both brothers communicate with each other, it seemed that Yue wasn't worried at all to hurry and speak with his own brother. And, staying next to the painter would complicate Tomoyo's main purpose of being part of such a party.

"Do you mind if I go walk around?" She asked her boss, before he could be taken away by all the guests that seemed to wait for the right moment to introduce themselves to him.

Yue simply said no, and after letting go of Tomoyo's waist, he walked right into the crowd that was waiting for him. They were used to arrive together, but leaving alone. It was all part of the routine. After all, each of them had different business to run. Yue would be busy attending the crowds that would surround him, trying to catch his eye, and walking away with the promise that the painter would paint something just for them. Tomoyo, on the other hand, would use her time to do the exact opposite: she had to capture the guests' attention, presenting her name, selling her signature, and hoping to get at least a client that would hire her whether to decorate their mansions, their offices, or redo their wardrobe.

After a whole hour walking around the place, and admiring the exhibitions (all pieces used in the most recent movie from Yukito's studio) Tomoyo couldn't help but congratulate herself for already handling her business card to five possible clients.

She then decided that the best she could do was to take a rest, so she walked straight to the bar: a long half-moon shaped counter, that was placed at an end of the salon. She smiled to the barman and asked for a piña colada. The glass took less than two minutes to find a place at her hand, but she was no longer paying attention to her drink. Her eyes were fixed in something more important.

Sitting in one of the stalls, just three meters away from her, with his gaze fixed in nothing, and a glass of whisky in his hand, there was one of Japan's biggest actors, the protagonist of the movie which stuff was being auctioned.

Kinomoto Touya.

Kinomoto Touya was in his early thirties; he was not a newbie in the acting industry, and despite being a bit old for industry standards, ladies loved him no matter their age. It didn't matter if it was old grannies or just teenagers, they all loved him. There was something about that man that just left you speechless, and that something could be summarized in his gaze.

His eyes were dark, hidden under bushy but well defined eyebrows. His jawline was sharp, and his nose was tiny and skinny. With a bronzed skin, dark brown hair, skinny, but really tall (almost a meter and ninety), there was something about him that just hypnotized all females.

Tomoyo couldn't take her eyes out of him. She didn't know why. She just stayed there, ignoring her own drink, just looking at him and the way he agitated his glass, making the ice clink, and then drinking his whisky. That night, Touya Kinomoto had dressed in a black suit, with matching black shoes; with a grey shirt, handkerchief and tie, he looked absolutely elegant and imposing.

It didn't help that much that, located at one of the ends of the salon, the bar was kind of in the shadows, and that besides him, there was no one else sitting in the stalls. All those details had made Tomoyo's vision to resemble a drama movie scene. A scene where the hero is left alone, apart from the world, thinking in his pain and sorrow, just mourning over his past mistakes…

Kinomoto could feel someone was looking at him, and after blinking slowly, he raised his head and fixed his dark eyes in the girl with black hair. That only should have made Tomoyo feel embarrassed of herself; after all, she was looking at him without any kind of modesty. Or she could also try to act brave and approach him, offering her services as a personal fashion assistant. But actually, Tomoyo couldn't think or do anything.

She could just look at him, losing herself in his eyes, so dark, so enigmatic… There was something about the way he looked at her, that she could feel as if he was undressing her, not from her clothes, but also from her thoughts; his gaze was so intense that anyone else would've feel intimidated and would quickly turn around to leave… And still, she was fixed there, unable to move.

Kinomoto had a last drink from his whisky, and held his gaze. For an instant, Tomoyo felt suffocated, unable to breathe, her heart stopping, her brain going numb. But then, giving her a tiny little smile, Kinomoto finally stopped looking at her, and still sitting in the stall, he turned around. Drank once more from his glass, finally stood up, and, without saying a word, he walked away in silence. He didn't look back, not even over his shoulder. As if he hadn't left anyone waiting behind him. As if he hadn't seen her.

Not knowing what just had happened, Tomoyo finally grabbed her drink (her hand was shaking), and walked away from the bar, thinking it was best to forget that encounter, and focus once more into walking around the place, trying to find at least one more client.

But, from that moment on, she couldn't help but feel nervous. As if there was someone, following her around, looking at her from the shadows; checking all her moves, memorizing it: as if she was nothing but a mere prey, waiting for the moment the hunter would jump onto her, and she couldn't do nothing more than let him finish her once and for all.

She couldn't hold it for more than thirty minutes. She felt as she was running out of air, and practically running, she walked out of the salon, down the hall, and ended up in the bathrooms that were located at the other end of the hotel.

She closed the door behind her back, and couldn't help but feel grateful that the place was empty. Still heavy breathing (her legs were still shaking), she placed her tiny purse in the granite countertop, and placed her hands on the sides of the sink. Realizing that her whole body was shaking, she took a moment to breathe deeply. She needed to calm down. What was happening to her? That paranoia was not normal at all. Such a childish behavior!

She reprehend herself for being such an idiot, and forced herself to raise her head and look at her reflection in the mirror. After all, if she was already there, she could use that time to fix her hair and makeup. Still, that thought was soon forgotten when from the reflection, she could see the door opened behind her back. And so, she couldn't see anything else but him.

Kinomoto Touya closed the door behind his back, and stood there, with his back resting on it. His gaze was once again fixed in her skin, white as snow, without showing any expression in his sharp face. She turned around. Once again, Tomoyo couldn't do more than just look back at him, almost not blinking. Still not saying a word, still with his eyes fixed on her, Kinomoto finally moved from the door, and slowly walked towards her, making her breathing turn heavy.

He stopped when they were only two steps away. Still with his dark eyes on her gray ones, he got close to her, making her heart stop. She could swear she had felt him breathe in slowly, as if he was trying to catch her fragrance, as if he wanted to memorize it. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, and wait for that moment, that sweet touch, but instead, she held it together, and from the corner of her eye, could see how he reached his arm to get to the granite countertop where she had just cornered herself against, and took her purse.

She couldn't even speak up to call out his obviously invasion of her privacy. Moving a bit faster, he opened her purse, and looked inside. It didn't take him more than two seconds to find what he was looking for: took the white phone in its pink protector, threw the purse back onto the countertop, as he pressed one of the two only buttons the phone had. Automatically, the screen lighted up and showed those nine dots, waiting for the unlock pattern to be drawn.

He faced the phone to its owner, and waited. For Tomoyo it would've been really easy to grab her phone from his hand, grab her purse, push him away, and walk away, but once again, she couldn't move. Her mind was still fuzzy, her senses seemed inexistent, and her conscious was so numb that all her movements felt as if someone else were doing it, and not her. So, instead of running away, she raised her finger and drew her pattern. The screen unlocked instantly. Kinomoto turned the phone to look at the screen, and after some quick moves, he hurried to type something.

Just a second later, another phone started ringing.

Without flinching, the man blocked Tomoyo's phone screen, left it in the granite countertop, and from his pocket, he took out his own phone, black, with a gray protector. The mobile was vibrating, and emitted that generic song, that soon shut up: he had just called himself to record the number of that unknown young lady whom he had just imprisoned in a public bathroom.

Tomoyo couldn't help but think that that had been actually quite ingenious. He hadn't asked for her phone number. He had just taken it, and she had helped. Honestly, it was quite impressive.

Kinomoto looked at Tomoyo one last time, and for a moment, she thought she had seen him smile. It had been more like a smirk, and it had been so fast that she wasn't sure if it had really happened or it was just her imagination, since he soon turned around, and left the bathroom, leaving her alone, still pushing herself against the granite countertop, still breathing heavily.

It took Daidouji a couple of minutes to get a hold of herself, before being able to turn around and look herself in the mirror, and another three minutes to remember she was there to fix her hair and makeup. After another five minutes of actually fixing it all, and giving herself a last look at her reflection, she finally could breathe normally, and decided it was time to go back to the party. So, she got out of the bathroom, and retracing her steps, she went back to the salon.

"Tomoyo, can you come for a second?"

She had completely forgotten she had still business to run with Yue that night. For a moment, she got confused of why there was another man that looked like the exact copy of his boss, and it took her almost a whole minute to realize that that man must've been Yukito, Yue's twin brother.

She took Yue's outstretched hand, and hurried to smile. As soon as she formed part of the circle, she also gave them a respectful bow, and finally, looked at that other man.

Tsukishiro Yukito had the same bearing and facial attributes as Yue, even their clothing that night was quite the same, both dressing in dark colors. Still, there was something in Yukito that made him look way more kind and friendly. Maybe it was the sparkle in his eyes, or his warm smile, or just the scent of his sweet cologne…

"Miss Daidouji." Said the white haired man, outreaching his hand, so to kiss hers. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Yue has told me a lot about you."

"I can say the same, Mr. Tsukishiro."

They both laughed: that was just a lie. Yue never talked about anyone, never ever. After all, he rarely spoke. It was even hard to get from him any straight answer from any straight question. Despite monosyllables, it was hard to hear something else come from his mouth.

"Are you having a good time?"

"The atmosphere is just charming, and the exhibits are amazing."

Yukito smiled, happy with her replies.

"I understand you're my brother's personal assistant, but let me ask you, what is what you really do?"

"I'm a fashion designer." She hurried to ask. Yukito nodded.

"Who are your regular customers, if I may ask?"

"Those who can afford my services."

Her answer made Yukito laugh happily. He had a lovely laugh. Maybe Yue's would sound the same, but that was impossible to know, since he never laughed. She couldn't help it, and smiled at him.

"I see…" Yukito said, as he regained his composure. "If that's the case, your services sound quite multifunctional… Would you be kind enough of gifting me your business card? I'd love to keep in touch with you, maybe one day we could even work together."

She didn't wait for him to ask twice. Not even thinking about it, she opened her purse, and quickly pulled out one of her presentation cards. She offered it to Yukito, who took it with both hands, and after bowing in gratitude, he soon kept it safe inside in his coat's interior pocket.

Still happy and proud about herself for actually managing of giving Yukito Tsukishiro her business card, Tomoyo was about to close her purse, when she felt a vibration coming from something inside of it, and so, she lowered her eyes to see what was that about.

Her phone's screen had turned on, and the blinking notification told her she had a new message. One thing you got to know about Tomoyo Daidouji: she's one of those persons that live stuck to their phones. It didn't matter that she was closing a deal with Yukito and Yue Tsukishiro, for all she cared she could be right in front of Japan's Prime Minister, and she wouldn't ignore the damn thing. So, bowing at both man, so to excuse herself, she walked away, just a couple of steps, and grabbed the phone to look what that message was about. The message, from an unkown number, occupying almost the entire screen, made her heart stop, her cheeks light up, and so, she could only whisper her boss:

"I gotta go."

She didn't even wait for Yue to reply. Didn't even say goodbye to Yukito. She just closed her purse, and still with the phone in her hand, rushed out of the salon, headed to the elevators.

"Room 1805."

She went up to the eighteenth floor, and with her legs shaking, walked down the hall. In that floor, there weren't many doors, and were all very distant from each other: no doubt those were all suites. Her heels against the wooden floor was the only thing that could be heard; that, until she finally stopped in front of the door with the number 1805, and nothing more could be heard. Tomoyo couldn't do more than just stare at the dark wood, the golden doorknob, not daring to touch it. She knew her conclusion was right, he was the one that had send her such message, but still, she couldn't come to understand… why?

Once again, in her head, the idea of turning around and walk away emerged: don't get involved. But once again, her numb brain gave the rest of her body the wrong instructions, and now, hand on the doorknob, she pushed.

The door opened instantly.

The room was in semidarkness. All the lights where turned off, but from the crystal wall, the lights of night life of Tokyo illuminated the place. Confused and nervous, Tomoyo closed the door behind her back, and once again, she felt that deep gaze fixed on her, and so, she hurried to look around, searching for him.

His shadow moved in a corner of the room. There was a grand piano, he had sit in front of it, and now that he had stood up, he proceeded to walk up to her, slowly. He stopped when he was still a couple of steps away, with his hands in his pockets, a frown on his face, and his lips shut tight. Tomoyo couldn't do more than look back at him, waiting for him to say something, what was all that about, what was the plan, the idea, but Kinomoto didn't open his mouth, nor did any other type of sound. He just stared at her. She asked herself if that once again was a gaze competition. She'll make sure to win once more.

"What do you want from me?" was the only thing she managed to ask.

He didn't answer. He just stood there, looking at her grey eyes, and slowly, looked down to her lips, her neck, and the rest of her trembling body. It kind of felt like a caress; just the touch of his fingers.

"You know quite well what you're doing here." He finally said.

His voice was deep. Extremely sexy. There was something in his whistle voice that simply made her skin stand on end. Kinomoto walked one step closer, and his body stood only centimeters away from Daidouji. With a quick move, he pulled out one of his hands from his pants pocket, and placed it close to her porcelain face's skin. Taking his time, he grabbed a lock of her dark hair, putting it behind her ear, as she did as possible to calm down her heart, and not to fall onto the temptation of closing her eyes and fall in his arms.

Just as slowly, Kinomoto brought his index finger up to her rosy cheek, and moved it slowly down to her red lips. Just two seconds later the contact was over, but the feeling remained. Daidouji felt as if she could never erase it from her skin. Yes, Kinomoto was right: Tomoyo knew perfectly what she was doing there, why she hadn't run away from him, and more importantly, what he wanted from her.

Even if it was only for that night, if that unknown number never send her a new message, if he didn't touch her or look at her once more… she wanted to be his. Unable to hold it any longer, she finally closed her eyes, and pressed her tiny body against him.

She waited for a kiss that never occurred. The dark-haired man just stroked her cheek once again, and continued this time down to her neck, until the touch got lost when he reached her dress, just a few centimeters from her breasts, leaving this time a trail behind; a tickle. He pulled away from her, and walked around her. This time, pushing himself against her back, he pushed his face against the back of her neck, and so, she could feel his heavy breathing. This time it was not only his index, but all of both of his hands, that took its time to caress her pale back, down to her hips, and went up once again to her shoulder blades, where slowly, stopped on the dress' zipper, and started pushing it down. It didn't take long for the white and blue fabric to end up on the floor, and so she had to stay there, in the middle of the room, barely wearing her panties and heels.

Kinomoto clung to her back once again. She could feel his erection between her legs. The touch was only interrupted by his pants and her panties, but still, she felt it was way more than she could bear.

Kinomoto didn't seem to mind torturing her like that, making her wait, leaving her exposed. Still taking his time, caressed her back once more, and touched once again her hips, where he took his time to trace several circles, before using his thumbs to push down her panties, and slide them down her gorgeous legs.

It took them a few tortuous seconds until the panties finally fell to the ground, without making any sound. Almost naked, only wearing her heels and her diamond and sapphire necklace, Kinomoto took her hand, and made her walk slowly around the room, with the Tokyo city light dimly illuminating the curves of her body.

They passed alongside the grand piano, and without saying anything, he took her to the bedroom. There, he didn't worry to turn on the lights once more. Still holding her hand, he made her stop at the bed end, and slowly, made her turn around, so to look her from head to toes, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her skin. Daidouji should feel self-conscious, but there was something about the way he looked at her, that just made her feel incredibly sexy and desired. As if he needed her, as if his deepest desire was only her. The only thing that mattered to her in that moment, was that she wanted him to take her right away.

Kinomoto helped her to sit on the bed, and once again, made her wait; with his usual slow movements, he removed his belt, and let his pants drop on the floor. The same thing happened with his coat, tie and shirt. Then, paying attention to his guest once more, delicately, he made her lay down on the bed, and leaned on her. Tomoyo couldn't help it and once again closed her eyes, waiting for the contact of his thin lips against her; but once again, that didn't happen. Instead, Kinomoto's lips barely touched her neck, her round breasts, continued down her stomach, and stopped on her belly.

That night, Tomoyo let him do whatever he wanted to do with her body.

I've been neglecting this publish since years ago- I'm so sorry. These past years of quarantine had been hell. Hopefully, 2022 will be much better, since it can't just get worst. Can it?

This fic is a translation of another of my stories, so if you're fluent in spanish and want to read a version that is more comprehensible, you can go and read that one, since it's already complete. But, if you're waiting for this translation and look at me not english at all, then I must say I'll try my best to update every saturday. Unless things get too complicated, in which case I'll do my best to tell you guys before hand.

And, that's it. Sorry for all the grammar mistakes you might encounter. I supposedly proof read it, but I'm only human (and a dumb one) so mistakes can happen. Still, please enjoy, and see you next week.

-Ribo~