Disclaimer: see Part 1.
A/N: Happy New Year! In honor of the quickly-approaching year 2009, here's part two of my (fabulous, if I do say so myself) story, Diaphanous.
I'd like to reiterate what I said at the end of part 1 (and, to make it easier on myself, I'm just copying and pasting it): If you looked at this (Part 1) within the first few hours of its being published, you may have noticed that it was longer. I decided to stop it at a different point, so as to make the parts more even. So, if you read the part that was up before, you officially have a sneak peak (I rather long one, I daresay) of the coming chapter. Feel free to just skip down to the part you haven't read.
Now, on with the story! (I kind of like this part better, anyway. More AmiZoi interaction)
***
"I got it!" Ami called back as she turned the phone in her room on (only after closing and locking the door, fully aware of how nosey her flatmates were).
She then held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Hello, I'm Z—"
"Hold on a minute." Ami's baffled tone then changed to a rather no-nonsense one, "Mina. Get off the phone."
For a moment, there was complete silence.
"Mina!"
"Oh, alright, alright." The perky blonde grumbled as she clicked off her phone extension.
Ami, then turned to other matters, "Anyway, if you don't mind my asking, who are you?"
"I'm Zachary Tanzan, and I—"
"I've never met you." Ami was confused.
"Yes you have." Very confused. This guy was starting to sound like a sta—"And I'm not a stalker, I promise." She wasn't quite certain if she believed him.
"Then why don't I remember it?" A pause. "Please tell me I wasn't drunk." It didn't happen often, but…
"No, no," came the voice on the other end of the line, which Ami now noticed was a very pleasant sounding tenor, "at least, I don't think you were." He seemed to think a moment, before reaffirming, "No, you most certainly were not drunk."
"Alright then." Ami was feeling more and confused as this conversation went on. So, she did what she always did when completely confused—tried to dig up all the facts she could. "Would you mind er…jogging my memory with a brief, um, description, of the incident?"
"Oh, well, yeah!" Zachary replied, "It was about two days ago, at the Blue Moon Café, and you were wearing this chocolate perfume, and I—"
Ami figured it out, "Oh! That was you!" Could this possibly be the peppermint guy? It couldn't very well be anyone else, it seemed.
"Yeah, it was." Ami tried to force the goofy grin off of her face. It wasn't working. Here was the man she had been mentally occupied with for the past three days, calling her! That had to mean some—
Just then, Ami's elation was dampened by the logical inconsistencies that made themselves known, "…How did you get my number? How do you know my name?"
There was a jumble of noise on the phone, as Ami began a panicked rant about how she did not want to encourage some stalker and he had better not come near her because she had friends who would kick his ass (all the while thinking, why am I attracted to all the weirdoes), and Zach began trying to shout over her that he was not a stalker and that there really was a logical, non-stalkerish explanation for all of this.
Somehow, through all the pandemonium, Zach managed to get Ami to quiet down, and then stutter out some semblance of a coherent story. He explained (rather haltingly) about the blonde girl who left the phone number and name in his hand, and about the way that he had heard her friends calling out the name written on the paper, so he had identified it as hers.
***
Zach waited for the inevitable accusation of "liar". After all, once he said it aloud, it did seem to be a rather unlikely story.
Instead, he got a dry chuckle in response, as Ami said, "Yes, that definitely sounds like Mina."
Good, she didn't think he was a stalker. Zach relaxed (he hadn't realized he had been tensed up) and sighed.
Then, he realized just how desperate he seemed, calling random women who he hadn't even met properly. So he attempted to remedy the situation. You know, make the whole thing sound cool and nonchalant.
"Anyway, I wasn't doing much….and I, well, I had this paper…with your name…and this number…so…" He trailed off, wondering why nothing ever came out of his mouth the way it sounded in his head around this girl.
Awkward pause ensued.
"So…" she picked up the thread of conversation, "…you decided to call."
"Yeah."
"Oh."
Another such awkward pause blanked the conversation.
Finally, Ami broke the silence, asking candidly, "Why did you even bother? Wouldn't it have been simpler to just let things lie—not that I'm unhappy you called, but, well…why?"
Zachary paused for a moment (not expecting so blunt a question) before asking, "Honestly?"
"Yes. Honestly."
"Well, to be truthful…you see, when we were at the café I found you to be…fascinating. Enthralling…"
He mentally pictured the way she'd looked when he'd first really noticed her: oddly blue hair, petite figure, plain features...
"…stunning, captivating, intriguing…"
…and those oh-so-intelligent blue eyes, the memory of which suddenly made him want very much to impress her with his intellect. He cast about his mind for a word that would really show off his impressive vocabulary...
"…diaphanous!" he brought his descriptive words kick to a close on that triumphant note, waiting for her breathless, flattered, awed reaction.
He waited.
And waited.
Until finally…
…"Do you actually know what that word means?"
***
Ami stared at the phone, incredulous. Diaphanous? That didn't sound quite right.
…"Do you actually know what that word means?"
The answer came hesitantly, nervously: "Well, yes…At least, I think I do."
"I don't think it means what you think it means."
"Ah."
There was silence. Then…
"What does it mean then?"
There was another pause, this one due to Ami's need to pull herself together and figure out precisely how to define the word. (Contrary to her friends' oft-repeated jokes, she was not a walking dictionary, particularly when nervous. And this young man was making her very nervous.)
The silence apparently made Zach nervous, too, because he again broke the silence, asking, "Is it rude?"
"No, no, no. It's not rude. Just a little…not applicable in the situation."
Ami blushed as she realized precisely what the situation was: a (very attractive) young man was extolling her virtues with, albeit, terrible word choice and a rapturous tone of voice. Ami did not usually curse, however, all she could think at the moment was a very matter-of–fact shit.
He was still waiting for a definition, though, and she felt compelled to oblige him.
"It's kind of transparent, only not really. Translucent might be a better word. Insubstantial, maybe? I'm not quite sure…" This guy very much seemed to impede her usual articulacy.
"Mind giving me an example?"
"Oh sure! Just let me think…" Ami trailed off, doing the aforementioned thinking. However, she seemed to have come to a dead end. It is a curse of the human mind that it will often be the case that, once it becomes pressingly necessary to think of something that would normally be quite mentally accessible, it is impossible to find. Therefore, where Ami could, at any other point, have thought of a dragonfly's wing, or a bride's veil, at this point they simply would not come to mind (she would later, long after she had hung up the phone, kick herself as the too-obvious examples poured into her head).
Yet, as the need to reply pressed heavily upon the young woman, all she could think of was those stupid little silk nighties that Mina and Serena had been making her try on at Victoria's Secret, and how the two girls had looked at her so oddly when she used the aforementioned word to describe them.
"Still thinking?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"It's okay."
Ami knew that she had to answer, or risk Zachary getting bored and disinterested and realizing that she was not worth his time, anyway. She was panicked, remembering her previous thoughts about his experiences with women, and that he would realize just how boring she was in a moment if she didn't say something, and that she only really had one thing that she could say, and she really did not want to look stupid. So, she spoke:
(It is prudent, in this situation, to remember that Ami's panic was not unique to herself, and is, in fact, probably the most normal response among rather inexperienced young women to the current situation. It is therefore quite right to be proud of Ami, because it took quite a lot of courage to do what she did now instead of hanging up the phone.)
"Well…the only thing I can think of is…er…well…a negligee, I suppose"
There was a pause—oh, how the girl dreaded that pause!—before…
"…I hate to sound like an idiot, but hey, I figure better now than later."
"What do you mean?" Ami asked.
"What's a negligee?" then, quickly, as though desperate to prove that he was not entirely ignorant, "Does it have any relation to the work 'negligence'?"
Ami nearly choked on her shock, coughing and causing Zach to sound rather worried. Ami took no heed of his repeated "are you okay?"s, thinking that maybe he was not so experienced as she had thought.
Still coughing a bit, she managed to choke out, "No. No, it has no relation that I know of to 'negligence'."
"Oh. Then what does it mean?"
Oh dear. This, Ami knew, was going to be painful.
"Well, it's a, err, little…dressing gown? I suppose? And it's…well, diaphanous. Translucent? Umm…the word flimsy comes to mind…and…um…revealing? At least…um…"
Ami was feeling undeniably awkward, but she was at least thankful for one thing: that Zach couldn't see her. Because, she knew, her blood had just made a mass migration to her cheeks. She was blushing. Violently.
***
Unbeknownst to Ami, Zach was blushing, too. Quite a bit, actually. The explanation for this was that he was trying very, very hard not to picture Ami in one of the confections she was so haphazardly describing. He was failing rather miserably, and the scent of the chocolate sitting by his bed (which was now oddly overpowering) wasn't helping one single bit.
Finally, with the knowledge that it was going to take an immense amount of willpower to repress the image that was forming in his head, Zach made a deal with himself: he would not fanaticize about her until he had at least gotten her out on one date.
In the interest of his poor, strained mind and quickly diminishing willpower, Zach then decided that he should really get her out on said date before he went insane.
By the time Zachary had come to this conclusion, Ami had seen fit to change the subject, by again asking Zach why he called (more specifically, this time. And not in so many words. In fact, the way she said it made it sound like a much politer, subtler way of saying, "Not that I'm not enjoying this conversation, but can you please get to the point?)
Thinking only that asking her out was becoming a necessity, Zach gathered his courage and replied without preliminaries, "I'd like to….say…ask…that…you know…if it's okay with you, of course…but…about…maybe…you and…I…go…somewhere?"
ShitDammitBlastedHell.
That did not work.
And she was not saying anything.
Why wasn't she saying anything.
Having been given the time to pull himself together, Zach restated his question (a bit more coherently), "That is, I was wondering if you would like to go out with me somewhere?"
Silence.
"Maybe Friday night?"
More silence.
And silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence Silence SilenceSilenceSilence.
She wasn't, he then realized, going to reply.
And, as he though that, that little sting of rejection he had felt earlier came back as an sharp, unyielding, near-unbearable pang.
He admitted defeat. She was too nice to say no, so she would just say nothing.
"Alright. I can take a hint. I won't call again. You don't have to worry about any harassment, and you don't have to say anything. In fact, I don't want you to—"
The interruption came in the form of a beep, notifying him of a call on the other line. He finished up his "speech".
"I'm sorry, Ami. Goodbye." She was still silent.
Sadly, he clicked the "flash" button on the phone, and morosely muttered, "Hello, Zachary speaki—"
"So sorry I lost you, see, the battery on the phone in my room went out—it does that a lot because Serena and Darien keep having phone-a-thons on it—and so I had to use the one in the kitchen, and I realized that I didn't know your number, and I was about to give up, but Rei reminded me that I could use the caller ID memory to find it out, so I did. And now I'm back." Ami's voice finally slowed down, having told the entire slowly in only one or two breaths. She sheepishly concluded, "Sorry again."
Zachary didn't know who these "Serena," "Darien" and "Rei" people were, but he didn't really care, because he had realized as she was speaking that her silence had not been because she was too nice to turn him down, but because she justwasn'tthere. He was grinning wildly now as he was struck by the fact that he still had a chance.
(He had also noticed that his encounters with her seemed to be characterized by such awkward misunderstandings, which he thought very odd and probably karma's way of punishing him for everything he had ever done badly in his life.)
He asked her, "Where were we when I lost you?"
She replied "You were going to tell me precisely why you called."
So, all nervousness forgotten and caution lost in his elation, Zachary asked the question he desperately wanted to answer.
"I called to ask you, Ami, if you wanted to join me at the Blue Moon Café this Friday night. Maybe."
There. That was eloquent enough.
He awaited her reply.
***
Ami couldn't believe her ears. She had to be dreaming. Things like this (attractive young men she barely knew getting her phone number and asking her out on dates) didn't happen to her. They happened to other people.
However, since the phone was very real feeling beneath her ear and her shin was still aching from where she hit it during her rush to the kitchen to get the phone (which she had taken with her back to her previous place on her bed), she surmised that she must be awake.
Absently, she opened her desk drawer, and, finding her agenda book, saw that the Friday night slot said, "shopping with the girls" in her small, neat handwriting.
In less than an instant (not nearly long enough for Zach to start worrying), Ami went over her options:
Now, based on their enthusiasm for her love life (or, up until this point, lack thereof), Ami was certain that her friends would not mind her missing their shopping date. On the other hand, if she wanted to say no to Zach's offer, it would make a great—and true—excuse. After all, he could be a stalker, despite his vehement denial of that accusation. Maybe it would be better if she said no.
(It must here be understood that Ami was naturally a shy sort of girl, and it was not in her personality to take risks and put herself out there.)
Afraid that her silence would give Zach the wrong idea (despite the fact that she still didn't know what the right idea was), Ami muttered into the phone, "Could you give me a moment?" Then, not waiting for a reply (which was affirmative), pulled the phone from her ear and held it to her chest.
Sighing (and no closer to her answer) she looked at the ceiling.
"Whoever's up there, if there was ever a time to start listening to me, now'd be it. Because I'm having quite a bit of trouble with this decision, and aren't you supposed to guide people, or something? Anyway, I know I don't pay much attention to you in general, but if you're up there, and you're listening, I was wondering if you would mind giving me, you know, a sign, or something?"
She paused for moment, waiting for something miraculous to happen. Like, say, an angel to come down and bop her on the head, proclaiming the correct answer. Or a mouse to show up (this was impossible, she knew, as Lita would not let any mouse within a hundred feet of the apartment, but Ami had seen "Cinderella" when she was young, putting certain notions about the nature of mice and helpfulness into her subconscious), and write the answer on her bed in cheese crumbs.
And so, she waited.
Nothing happened.
"Or not, of course." She again addressed the ceiling before biting back a baffled sigh.
She leaned over, slowly replacing the now-closed agenda book into the drawer. As she put it away, her fingers brushed what was unmistakably a piece of…plastic wrap?
Dropping the book, she grabbed at the plastic, raising it to her eye level and coming face-to-face with a piece of candy.
A peppermint, to be precise. A peppermint from her supposedly-completely-gone stash.
Ami stared at the peppermint for a long moment.
She looked up at the ceiling…
…then down at the phone…
..and back to the peppermint.
She quickly drew the phone back up to her ear.
"What time?"
End
***
Concluding A/N: There you go; the end of Diaphanous, Part 2 of the Awkward series. I intend on writing a third oneshot (which may or may not turn out to actually be a oneshot. Remember, this one was supposed to be a oneshot, too). I'm thinking that it will be about the date.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I certainly had fun writing it.
And what kind of a fanfiction author would I be if, at the end, I did not throw in the customary: Review! Review! Review!
(I'd really like it if you did, though.)
Until next time,
~FB~