Stuck in Second Gear

Chapter 7

The One With the Sleepover

A date. A date…

How the hell does one plan a date? Seifer couldn't very well ask any of his law school buddies for a myriad of reasons. Gossip, and the fact that he had slept with a number of the females in his class without bothering taking any of them on dates were among the top ones. Everyone was already talking about him because he had been at the stupid "Wedding of the Century". Eyeroll.

Raijin wasn't going to be any help either. Loyal, kind, and strong as he was, he wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, even if deep down he was a big sweet moomba. Fujin might help, but she would ask too many questions, and he wasn't ready to explain that he had bedded the illustrious Quistis Trepe through some insane stroke of luck that involved his bathtub. Did Fujin even date? She had to, she was a hell of a catch.

Rinoa would for sure know what to do, and she knew all the hot date spots in Deling City. She also could keep a secret. But she would hound him incessantly for details and make all those doe-eyes at him when she saw him, begging for information on…whatever it was between him and Quistis.

This was becoming way too much work. He never had to do this much work to get tail before. Ever. He barely had to lift a finger. Being devastatingly handsome and an arrogant little shit helped. Mysterious, closed-off, terrified of commitment. Women ate that shit up with a spoon. Maybe they thought they could save him or something stupid like that. What about that attracted women, he had no idea. But it worked.

Not on Quistis, though. She was too smart for that routine. And he found he didn't want to be closed off with her. He enjoyed talking to her, going toe to toe with her. He even dared to admit that he liked being less of a prick for her. Liked seeing her happy. Wanted her to be happy.

He also knew there wasn't a chance of the re-occurrence of the mind-blowing sex without effort.

He was going to have to commit to courting her.

Ever since the night at Richard's when he finally saw her let loose, he hadn't been able to even think about another woman, let alone do anything with one.

Then at the wedding, waking up next to her, he felt the most peace he had in years. He had never slept next to anyone before, well, other than Fu and Rai when they were awaiting his fate after the war and living on next to nothing. But that was different. This was different.

Sex with Quistis was different. And it wasn't just because he hadn't used a condom, despite what he was telling himself. He had never slept with a girl without protection before. Seifer was way too careful for that. Well, except for one drunken mistake five years ago that left him a mess for the six months after when he went to the local health clinic on an almost monthly basis to get tested for Hyne-knows-what. Thankfully, there were no mini-Seifers running around. He'd vowed to never have sex drunk again after that. And he hadn't.

He knew there wasn't a risk of pregnancy; the awful Cid Kramer forced the Garden SeeDs to have implants, and they were poked and prodded every six months. He knew he was clean, and he assumed Quistis was, as buttoned up as she was…no way she let guys do her raw. But she let him. They had both let their guards down. A lot.

It was more than just physical, and that was new territory for him.

He didn't know what it was, and he wasn't ready to label it yet either. It was too fresh.

Hyne, Quistis had him by the balls already and they weren't even in a relationship. Tasting her sealed the deal. Nobody was going to be able to satisfy him the way that she did.

"Fuck…" Seifer muttered, pouring himself a glass of Winhilliruim, a new high-alcohol content beer out of a small outfit.

His self-pity was interrupted by the sound of a book slamming on the bar.

"Here."

"Zabac guide?" Seifer furrowed his brow as he read the cover. "What the hell?"

"The Zabac guide. Written by some guy, he ranks all the best restaurants in every city. Mr. Zabac has eaten everywhere. Great info in there." Charles smiled kindly at Seifer. "Only way to choose a place for a date."

"How did you—"

"Seifer. I've known you for almost three years. In all that time I've never seen you bring a girl here, let alone mention one by name. You've been different ever since you brought that blonde cutie here a few weeks ago. Now you're at work on a Wednesday, muttering and swearing to yourself."

"I'm here for my paycheck, that's all. And making sure we have the orders set for this weekend…" Seifer mumbled while flipping idly through the pages of the Zabac Guide.

"Uh-huh…We all know that your paycheck is worth crap—you make your money on tips wearing skintight pants and prancing around shirtless, showing off and batting those pretty green eyes at the guys who come in here. Try page twenty-four."

"…Thanks, Charles."

"Eh, I'm being selfish. I can't have you all distracted for the party on Friday. It's going to be crazy in here and I need you at your best."

"That's it! Charles, you're a genius!" Seifer quickly whipped out his phone and sent a text before he could second guess himself.

"Don't you have class right now, by the way?"

"Mother fuck—"

Come to Richard's Friday night. Wear a swimsuit, preferably something skimpy.

Quistis raised an eyebrow. This is what Seifer thought a date was? Dancing while he worked? In a bikini? Somehow, Quistis shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. And that just made her irritated. There had been zero mention of plans for the weekend since she woke up next to Seifer the morning after the wedding. Three days ago. Sure, there had been plenty of text messages, most of which consisted of varying degrees of flirtation and downright raunchy innuendo.

Which she pointedly ignored.

Apparently, sleeping together had opened the floodgates to what was surely part of Seifer's semi-filthy inner monologue. Which was strangely interspersed with thoughtful commentary, witty remarks, and somewhat sweet platitudes.

A beep on her phone indicated another text message, which seemed to be written in haste by someone who wasn't really looking at their phone.

Nice too. Pack nice thing for Saturday. Bag for weekend.

Was he planning on this date taking up the whole weekend? Apparently so. Quistis' stomach coiled, and she bit her lower lip nervously.

An entire weekend. With Seifer. Staying at his apartment.

This was either one of the best decisions or the worst ideas she had ever had. Only time would tell. She hadn't been able to stop thinking of the feeling of his body on hers, and was eager to feel it again. That alone was pushing her to dive head first into what was bound to be a cataclysmic mistake.

But, for some reason, she thought it was worth it.

By the time Quistis arrived in Deling City, it was already 19:00. Work ran later than expected, despite her desperately trying to get out early. She was glad Squall and Rinoa were still on their honeymoon, or else she would be forced to answer questions on why she was sprinting to the train station to get to Deling City after she had just been out of town the weekend before for their wedding.

Rinoa was sure to figure out what was going on eventually.

Far away in a flower field, Rinoa Leonhart sneezed twice.

"Rin?" Squall peered up at her from his prone position, shielding his face from the sun with one arm, his other hand idly rubbing along her thigh, fingers inching under her sundress.

She beamed down happily at him and scooted closer, running her fingers through his chestnut locks. "Someone must be talking about me."

Squall chuckled and flashed her a smile she knew was reserved solely for her. "Of course they are. Our wedding photos are on the front page of every silly magazine." Squall's hand found its way up her thigh to settle on her hip and toy with the fabric of her underwear.

Rinoa giggled affectionately. "That must be it." She spared one last glance to the pile of magazines on the blanket next to her, one of them flashing an attractive photo of the couple dancing at their wedding. But, there was something she had failed to notice previously. A pair of blondes glancing at each other in the background, a far-from innocent look in their gaze.

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by a pair of strong arms tugging her down to settle on top of her new husband. She placed a kiss to his lips, the photos forgotten. "Want to make up our wedding night, Mr. Leonhart?"

His hands roamed up her bottom, hiking the sundress to her waist, trailing up her ribcage and backdown, eliciting a deep sigh from Rinoa.

"Pretty sure we've done that and then some, Mrs. Leonhart."

"Touche," she conceded. "But not in the middle of the flower field."

Squall let out a hearty laugh before flipping their bodies and pinning Rinoa underneath him, attacking her neck playfully with his lips. "As you wish…"

And they lost themselves in each other, the photo temporarily forgotten.

Quistis didn't even knock on the door before it was flung open to reveal Seifer, donning leather pants and a tight white V-neck t-shirt and some combat boots. His ensemble reminded her very much of another gunblade-wielder. His hair wasn't gelled back, but rather flopping carelessly in his face. He was a walking perfume ad, for Hyne's sake.

Seifer's face brightened visibly upon seeing her, his normal scowl replaced by a youthful excited smile, and he pulled her into his arms and gave her a brief but passionate kiss, with the casualness and comfort of a pair of people who did this on a regular basis.

"Gotta get to work. Sorry to run like this. Come around eleven. Make yourself comfortable. Television remote is on the table and there is some Esthari take-out in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks?"

Seifer was halfway down the hallway before he turned around and sprinted back to the door, grabbing Quistis by the waist and pressing another kiss to her lips, his hand snaking around to squeeze her bottom for good measure. "Fuck, you look sexy in your glasses. Can't wait to see you later. Trust me though, wear a swimsuit."

He finally released her and raced to the stairwell, already thirty minutes late to work.

Quistis entered Seifer's apartment. It was as clean and organized as always, except for Seifer's office which was riddled with papers, books, and sticky notes. He had been writing a paper, and it was printed out with various notes scrawled in the margins including things like 'what the fuck were you thinking?' and 'this transition is total shit.' He was just as hard on himself as he was everyone else, she mused. They had that in common.

There was also a bookshelf with a set of journals lined up, dates written on the outside. They were exactly the same journals a certain Sorceress possessed. Rinoa had once told her that she kept journals of her dreams, after a therapist had encouraged it. It was her way of coping after the Second Sorceress War. Seifer's jounals seemed to be identical, though while Rinoa's were silver, Seifer's were black. Did Seifer keep dream journals? She had never thought of him as particularly deep. Smart definitely, thoughtful when he wanted to be, but depth? Quistis had underestimated him.

Maybe he had sought help after the war as well? Rinoa said that Seifer and she had a lot in common and that spending time together was therapeutic for her. As tempting as it was, Quistis realized this was something extremely private, and quickly left the study.

She had a lot of time to kill and finally settled on taking a bath. A full day of wearing a polyester Garden uniform and then running to catch the train had left her sweaty.

She tossed one of the many bath salts in as she filled the bath and noted that Seifer had a lot of different types of soaps. Far more than any person should. The man really liked his bathtub. Settling in, she grabbed his crossword book and started to fill in blanks on the one he hadn't completed. The monster even did crosswords in pen. His arrogance had no bounds.

As she tossed the crossword book back in the basket by the tub, she noticed another book stuffed hastily under the pile of puzzle books and magazines.

"A Zabac Guide?"

Quistis felt flattered. There was no way Seifer had one of those lying around coincidentally. He really was serious about the date. And the bikini too, strangely enough.

After she cleaned off, she decided to wear her hair in a high ponytail, as Richard's had been warm last time, and pulled out her swimsuit from her overnight bag. Despite what most people might think, Quistis Trepe did own a bikini. A gold one that Rinoa convinced her to buy two years back when they were planning a trip to Mandy Beach. She hadn't worn it then, instead donning a more conservative one-piece. Quistis had spent way too much time being the center of unwanted attention, that she actively avoided bringing it to herself.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and had to admit that the bikini looked good. The shimmering gold highlighted the golden notes of her hair, and the triangle cut made her chest look larger than it was, and the high-cut bottom accentuated her long legs, and toned abdomen. She pulled on a dark blue plaid miniskirt over the bottom and tugged on a white t-shirt overtop, not knowing what was coming. Instead of wearing boots, she pulled on a pair of black ballet flats.

Finally it was time, and she called a cab from the number Seifer left on the counter for her, and headed to Richard's.

Charles smiled warmly at her when she entered from the small stairwell to the front of the bar, as if she was an old friend he had known for years.

"You certainly dressed for the part." He gestured to her outfit before opening the door to the back, where loud music with a thumping bass assailed her. Something was falling from the ceiling, with colored lights dancing across it, creating a laser-like effect.

"Is that…?"

The entire warehouse was pitch black, illuminated instead by blacklights, and the flashing of colors created prisms from where they hit liquid. From up high as well as on the floor there were multiple machines pumping out foam to where the patrons were covered in bubbles as they danced. Many had paint on their bodies that glowed in the blacklight only, and Quistis looked down, noticing that her t-shirt was glowing brightly.

Some foam landed on top of her nose. She wiped it off and blew it into the air, and couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"A foam party?" She had only ever heard of such things.

"Have fun, Quistis. Seifer is working the bar."

Charles gave her a small push on the small of her back, directing her towards where Seifer stood. By the time she made it to the bar, her shirt was damp, and she now understood why Seifer had advised she wear a swimsuit. Most of the men in Richard's were either wearing extremely revealing speedos, or had stripped down to their underwear, while others still had on pants. Almost all were shirtless. Selphie would love this place.

Quistis caught Seifer's attention from behind the bar easily. His eyes roamed up and down her form appreciatively, giving her a soft smile, not his usual cocky grin. His shirt was already off, with glowing paint all over his chest, some large handprints on his abs and pecs that were obviously not his own. He handed her a drink.

"Obel Lake salt, lime, grapefruit juice, tequila, and club soda."

She could hear him clearly, but he was motioning for her to come closer, as if he wanted to tell her something quietly.

Quistis leaned over the bar until she was practically on the other side, likely giving whomever was behind her a very nice show of her backside, though in a place like this, no one was looking at her. He surprised her then, by grabbing both sides of her face and planting a firm kiss on her lips. The kiss was met with shrill whistles from the group of guys at the bar.

"You look hot. But lose the shirt," he whispered in her ear, the feeling of his breath making her shiver.

Ah, Seifer. Ever the sweet talker. Quistis rolled her eyes, but complied. Her shirt was already clinging to her body anyway, leaving nothing to the imagination. She could not believe she was standing in the middle of a bar full of topless men in nothing but a miniskirt and a bikini top.

Seifer had to turn his attention back to the rest of the patrons and was visibly blushing at whatever they were saying to him.

A man she had remembered from last time appeared at her elbow. "I knew you were his girlfriend."

"I'm not—"

"Honey, no guy kisses you like that if you aren't his girlfriend. Wanna dance?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead dragging her to the dance floor with him. She went easily. Quistis twirled around the dance floor, foam accumulating around her feet and in her hair. It was the most absurd fun she had ever had. Who came up with this idea? It successfully got people out of their clothes shamelessly. Quistis noticed there were more women in the club than the last time she was there.

She danced for the better part of two hours, her hand never without a drink thanks to Seifer sending them her way, candied lemon with rosemary sprigs and campari, cactuar syrup, black walnuts, bourbon infused with brown butter with a blood orange peel. Seifer was an artist who didn't realize his own genius.

Her handsome partner never left her side, though sometimes others would join, including a girl who was far more forward with her than she was used to.

"Oh my gods…finally. This is the best part of foam parties. Squall is taking his pants off!" A man squealed.

"Squall?" Quistis gave him a perplexed look.

"Um, yeah, the bartender, his name is Squall."

The man pointed to the bar where Seifer was dramatically and slowly pulling down his soaking wet leather pants while gyrating his hips and stripping down to a pair of tight black boxer briefs that showed off his extremely impressive package.

Of course Seifer used Squall's name as his "stage-name". Seifer was such an attention whore. He ate it all up. Quistis couldn't decide whether to roll her eyes or smile, so she opted for both.

"I wonder if he stuffs it…?"

"He doesn't, that's all him," Quistis answered quickly, before covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment.

Her companion howled with laughter.

Effortlessly she continued to dance, never feeling on display, or like some Trepie was going to creep her out.

That was until someone began to dance behind her, a bare chest against her back, and unwelcome hot breath near her ear. An arm encircled her waist, pulling her flush against a hard body, while another hand dipped dangerously low on her hip. A firm arousal pressed against her bottom.

Quistis became very still and prepared to turn around and slap the intruder, when she heard a familiar husky voice. "I like watching you dance."

Seifer emphasized the point by grinding against her backside, eliciting a whimper.

Quistis whirled around and leaned up to smash her lips against his own, tongue darting out to taste him, wrapping her arms around his neck, completely uncaring that they were in the middle of a bunch of people. Keeping their lips locked, Seifer all but dragged her to the corner of the room where he pressed her up against a wall, never stopping their kiss.

His mouth was all over her, hands roaming along her stomach, tickling her ribs, until one hand was encasing a breast, fingers dipping underneath her flimsy bikini top. Her own hands were travelling the broad expanse of his chiseled chest, teasing down his abs and toying with the patch of hair that led down to the boxers he was wearing.

She should have been embarrassed, but looking around, there were couples doing far more all over the club, in many combinations, and no one was even watching them. This type of party was made for this: black lights, foam, little to no clothing, good-looking people, likely some substances that enhanced the senses. The paint on his chest and stomach were now blurred from where their bodies were pressed together, some of it covering Quistis' stomach and breasts, the fact that their bodies were attached to each other painfully obvious in the black light.

She dared to dip her hand lower, rubbing against his arousal through the fabric of his boxers. He grunted and jerked towards her hand, forcing him to break their kiss. Quistis looked up at him feigning innocence.

"I've got ten minutes…" He murmured, grinding up against her palm, his teeth nipping gently at her earlobe.

"Is there-?" She didn't want to wait until they got back to his apartment. There was a primal desire in her that she couldn't explain. She wanted him. Needed him.

Now.

Seifer's eyes shot up, surprised but pleased at her boldness. "Storage, behind the bar."

Within seconds of slamming the door behind them, he bent her over some crates in the storeroom and hoisted her skirt above her hips, shoving the bikini bottom to the side. He entered her roughly, his pace fast, taking her like a wild animal.

She finished quickly, clawing at the wooden crates to try and stay grounded as she called out his name, her voice lost under the loud music from beyond the door. Seifer pulled out, splashing himself onto the back of her thigh with a quick apology, before grabbing an unused rag and deftly wiping her clean.

Replacing her bottoms and skirt, he flipped her around so she was sitting on the crate, straddling his waist. His lips immediately assailed her own and trailed down her neck.

"Fuck, Quistis…" he rumbled against her throat, his warm mouth making its way down the center of her chest as he pushed her onto her back. "You're like a fucking drug." He trailed to her bellybutton and kissed lower, before stopping at the top of her skirt and inhaling deeply.

Seifer shook his head and stood upright suddenly. He tugged on Quistis' arms to pull her up to his level, enveloping her in a crushing hug that took her breath away.

"I don't think I can get enough of you." His voice was rough. Passionate.

She was shocked at the candor of his statement and too afraid to admit she felt the same way. He was intoxicating.

"Seifer…" She leaned up for a kiss, but he held her back, instead keeping their foreheads together.

"I gotta get back to work. Break's over…and when you say my name like that, I…" He sucked in a pleased breath before finally pulling away from her and presenting a card in front of her face.

"What—"

"Key to my place. I won't be off work until the sun is coming up. Have Charles get you a cab when you're ready to go."

Unsure of what to say, she took the card from his hand and tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. Somehow this felt like a remarkable gesture, and no response seemed like the best approach. With one last kiss, he was gone, leaving her with a pounding heart, sitting on a dusty crate in a storeroom of a bar, covered in black-light body paint, hair mussed, face flushed with obvious pleasure, in a gold bikini.

What would anyone say if they saw perfect Quistis Trepe now?

She found she really didn't care.

About a half hour later, she was ready to go. She didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Seifer as he was extremely busy at the bar, putting on a giant show throwing bottles into the air. Charles was near the entrance and he nodded to her, typing in a message into his phone.

"Five minutes. We have a cab company we use here, the only ones we trust."

"Thanks." Quistis could take care of herself, but it was late and she was tired.

A few moments later, the honk of a car alerted her to her cab being ready to take her back to Seifer's apartment.

After showering all the paint, soapy grime, and Hyne-knows-what-else off her body, Quistis all but collapsed in Seifer's bed, grabbing one of his t-shirts and tossing it on as makeshift pajamas. His large bed was luxurious, compared to her twin at Garden. The comfort was more than just superficial; she felt at home here. Silly, Quistis told herself. Yet the bed was simply a glorious invitation. It was probably just fatigue.

Hours later, when the sound of running water awakened her, she could see the pink hues of daybreak peeking through the blinds of the window before her eyes fluttered closed once again. After a few moments, a figure slid into bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and taking a deep breath. Seconds later, his soft snoring lulled her back to sleep.

In was nearly eleven when she awoke again. At first, she was slightly confused as to where she was, until the heavy arm of Seifer prevented her from sitting up. His grip was comforting as it encircled her. She slid out from under his grasp carefully, slipping out of the bed. Pausing a moment, she watched him sleep.

Quistis found herself affectionately pushing some of his hair away from his forehead. Pulling her hand back in alarm at how intimate such a non-sexual act could feel, she felt a lump in her throat.

Seifer woke about an hour later to the sound of his coffee maker. And what a sweet sound that was in the morning. He normally programmed it to start before he rose in the morning, but not on the weekends.

Which meant…right, Quistis had spent the night. He had actually entrusted her with his house key. The only other people that had ever had that privilege were the former Disciplinary Committee.

Not only had he and Quistis slept next to each other, that was all they had done. Well, minus the little incident at the storeroom at Richard's. Seifer grinned and his hand travelled down his abdomen to the bulge that was hardening by the second at the memory.

Wait, what was he doing? The real thing was right there in his kitchen! Shaking his head, Seifer slid out of bed and tugged on a pair of light grey sweatpants, adjusting himself slightly so as to not present Quistis with a giant obvious erection first thing in the morning. He had some tact, after all.

He paused at the threshold, watching Quistis in his home, drinking in the sight of her. Her hair was in the world's messiest, sloppiest bun, hair crimpy from sleeping with it damp, her glasses on, and wearing one of his t-shirts. A faded green one that said 'Great Salt Lake Brewing Company' with a logo of a vysage drinking a beer. It went a few centimeters below her bottom, and it was obvious she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Seifer gulped.

He'd thought he knew sexy pretty damn well. Thought he was a goddamn connoisseur, in fact. Well, fuck. It turned out he had never known what sexy was until this exact moment.

A guy could get used to this. Very used to this. Surprisingly, that thought didn't completely terrify him.

"G'morning." His voice was still gravelly from the night before.

She flashed him a brilliant smile and he all but melted into the carpet, shocked at how quickly Quistis had the ability to completely floor him.

"Morning. Hey, do you have a non-stick pan?"

Phew, an opportunity to gain a little ground here. "Mmmm, yeah, bottom cupboard to the right."

"Thanks."

Quistis did exactly what Seifer had hoped. Bending at the waist, she rummaged through the cupboard, giving him a delicious view of her perfectly-shaped bottom. He was right, black panties underneath and nothing else, presenting him with a wonderful prize as his shirt hiked up her waist.

"This cupboard is full of protein shake mix…"

He slipped up behind her and snaked his hands along her hips as she bolted upright at the touch.

"I know…just wanted to see you bend over."

"Seifer…" Quistis warned.

"Nice shirt. Looks better on you than me." He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, and that act seemed to melt any irritation away.

"Seriously, I'm trying to make crepes. Do you have a non-stick pan?"

Seifer pointed to the pans hanging above the island in the kitchen, but did not release her from his grasp, instead tugging the neck of the shirt to the side to place a kiss on her shoulder.

She acquiesced into his kisses as she rummaged around, tugging her with him as she started the burner and put the pan on. "Let me cook…"

Seifer held up his hands in mock defense and grabbed his favorite coffee mug, 'I'm bored in the Mordred Plains' pouring himself a cup.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled, plopping onto one of the benches at the kitchen island. "I've never had anyone make me breakfast before, you know."

"Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised at that.

He shook his head. "Nah, never um—" Seifer paused, wondering if he should share this information, then decided to hell with it.

"Never, um, woke up…spent the night with someone, not until…"

"The wedding?" Quistis' eyebrows shot up. The look on her face betrayed the fact that she was shocked by that statement, but she quickly covered it up and tried to focus on pouring batter in the pan.

"Yeah…I'm more the 'slink out in the night, kick someone out' type."

"Of course you are." Quistis rolled her eyes.

"I'm new at this, okay?" Seifer was getting frustrated. When he was vulnerable with her, she shot him down.

Quistis carefully flipped the crepe over in the pan, focused on her task and purposefully avoiding eye contact.

"What exactly is this?" she asked quietly. Hesitantly.

The sound of her voice made it clear to Seifer that she was just as confused as he was. And this was new for her too. She didn't need to say it.

"I don't know."

He could see by the look in her face, that his answer was not what she wanted to hear. He was going to have to give a little more. Commit to courting, right?

Seifer took a sip of coffee. "All I know is, I like you here, in my apartment. I really like you wearing my t-shirt. And I really, really like when you screa—"

"Seifer!" She interrupted him, her face red.

"I really am trying here." He flashed her his most arrogant grin. "And I'm taking you to dinner tonight."

"I know," she admitted, handing him a piping-hot crepe on one of his plates.

"And I never do shit like that," he began to eat, hoping to change the course of the conversation, and was surprised at how good the crepe was. "What is this? Chocolate?"

"Chocolate-hazelnut."

"Damn. Gonna have to do extra cardio this week. Maybe you can help me with that," he winked at her. "Delicious though."

Quistis flushed prettily and tried to hide her smile behind her coffee mug.

"Shit, I could get used to this," he mumbled to himself.

Very used to it indeed.

Thank you to my beta, colobonema.