a/n: CAN YOU SMELL THE ANTICIPATION IN THE AIR?

TOMORROW, GUYS. TOMORROW.

AHHHH. *squees*

*coughs* Oh, and enjoy~

-RV

Double Lariat

Cress wasn't easy to catch off guard. This was also a fact.

She kissed him on an autumn day. In his dreams, at least. He would wake up in a panic, arms and limbs flailing about, heart beat racing at the speed of light - poor Cress couldn't catch a break from the blonde haired model that seemed to be haunting his subconscious.

It was getting to the point of ridicule. He felt unnerved, he felt discomposed, he felt horrible. Even his usual sarcastic self was showing up less often, replaced by this...love-sick being. It frightened him, terribly, terribly it frightened him.

His brothers were completely oblivious to his internal conflict - Chili was courting the (stupid) pretty redhead from Mistralton and Cilan left the cafe much more often, throwing excuses like "I'll be back later, going on an errand!" when everybody knew he was off with the genius (idiotic) purple-haired gym leader of Opelucid.

Actually, it seemed like nobody noticed the way Cress was changing over the weeks. The way he looked for his favorite customer, the way he carelessly tossed to the side the affections of his fans. The way he ignored their crestfallen looks and teary eyes, nobody noticed a thing.

No one except her. She noticed everything - - - nothing was safe from her cunning blue eyes, emotionless, motionless, yes they were, but she was always there.

But he was far too proper to straight forwardly ask her on a date. He couldn't, he just couldn't.

(Everyone knew that he was too much of a coward to do so. He wasn't like Chili, who managed to get any girl under his thumb with a simple cocky grin and a phrase that was either demeaning or intentionally stupid. He wasn't like Cilan, with his perfectly gallant persona and swoon-worthy quotes. He wasn't like them at all.)

The only thing improving from all of this (unneeded) stress, were his writing skills. Cress had something neither Cilan or Chili had. He could pen the most tear-jerking, heartwarming, butterfree-in-your-gut inducing poetry known to Striaton City (and maybe the rest of Unova. Rumor had it Caitlin of the Elite Four was head over heels for Cress's writing.) Ever since Elesa entered The Big Picture, Cress had focused his writing, dedicated his writing on her, to her.

Most the words that flowed from his ink pen were of unrequited, of forbidden love. The prose was nearly perfect, but it lacked a main component.

An audience - no one would read these poems, Cress would make sure of it. At least, he tried to make sure that nobody would sneak a peek. Until one certain Monday in the summer season.

Cress was never caught off guard - that day broke his streak.

She was the one who made him double-take, her blue eyes lively like the Castelia sea. She strolled into the cafe like she owned the place and proceeded to sit down in her usual seat (the little table in the corner, the ends are chipped and the painting needed to be redone, but she refuses to let anyone touch the table) and she waited.

Her eyes were directed, were stationed on Cress, and his brothers immediately backed away from the gym leader of Nimbasa as Cress stood like an idiot, which was something he never, ever, did.

His knees buckled, and he took a couple of deep breaths, attempting to get his heart to stop beating so wildly, so...anomalistically. Chili pushed him forward, and Cress made his way towards Elesa's table, flicking his bangs back before doing so, and finally arriving in a more or less composed state.

"Welcome to the Striaton Gym, would you like something to drink? We have a new special." Cress said the usual lines, but even those fell flat on this day. Elesa's gaze never wavered, interest flickering in them, as if he was her science project, and she was a scientist. Her usual outfit was long gone, today she wore a short, yellow dress, that clung to her like cellophane - was it getting hot in here, Cress felt beads of sweat slide down his neck and dearly wished for the air conditioner to miraculously turn on at that moment - and black pumps replaced her strappy yellow heels.

"Nothing today, actually. I wanted to talk to you." Elesa's voice was flat, but Cress was certain he caught an inaudible smirk in there. He cocked an eyebrow, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, I'm on my break in a couple of minutes. Would you like to wait?"

"No."

Cress sighed and shot his brothers an apologetic glance as he untied his apron and threw it to Chili. Elesa smiled, oh so slightly, as she rose from her seat and followed Cress outside.

In the summer sun, Cress attempted to examine the situation - either Elesa was there to thank him, or to insult him. Those were the only two logical explanations he could think of at the moment. (Cilan's voice echoed in the back of his head, laughing at his paranoia - "Insult? Honestly, Cress!")

"Cress, I'm sorry if this seems rather odd and such, but is this yours?"

Cress couldn't even analyze what the girl said. All he could focus on was the fact she spoke to him. She never spoke to him. Ever. As in...ever. Unless she was ordering something - this, this was sending (pleasant) chills down his spine.

"Uh, what?" Cress's usually put-together self was tearing at the seams. He shook his head, and attempted to grasp the thread of conversation.

"This." She handed him a piece of paper he knew only too well.

The girl with blue eyes.

His poetry. In her hands. It did not compute.

But she was smiling. Cress's eyes widened and he tore his gaze from the paper and to the girl, the girl with blue eyes.

"I found it the other day. I think you dropped it. Anyways, I gotta go. Sorry about it, again." Elesa turned on her heel and began to walk away. Cress stood.

He swore he saw her turn around and say, "Amazing work, though."