Authors Note:

Not much to say this time. Just hope you enjoy and please comment! I love everything you guys have to say. Thanks again to all my readers- you brighten my day with your comments.

You Again

Chapter 5

Darien didn't even pause before he answered, "Because it's your job."

I stared at him for a second. I mean, he could not possibly be serious! Just a minute ago he was insulting me and now he was all, "you're my new agent."

I think not.

"Darien," I said slowly- just like he had before, as though talking to a child- "My job is not to accept every author that comes into my office. It is my decision and in you're case, you're rejected."

He didn't seem fazed by this. I suppose he saw this coming since I hadn't been exactly hospitable since his arrival.

But whose fault is that really?

"Serena, you haven't even looked at my manuscript." He pointed out. I have to admit he had a valid point and if any other person had mentioned this I would have agreed but I don't really care to see Darien Shield's manuscript. As a matter of fact, I don't really care to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in the company of Darien Shields.

"In this very special case, I don't need to read the manuscript." I replied with a smirk. "I know the author."

"So of course, I'm pre-approved." Darien replied with a smirk of his own but he wasn't serious. He knew I was and he was making a joke out of it. Out of me.

"This isn't like getting a credit card Darien." I said with more malice. "You're daddy's name won't get you far."

He was surprised by my last comment. I even saw a hint of some unknown emotion flash through his eyes but before I could figure out what that emotion was exactly it was gone and he looked at me seriously.

"Who said anything about my father here?" Darien questioned crossing his arms across his- as annoying as it is to admit- broad and sculpted chest. The movement distracted me for a moment because I hadn't really been paying attention to what Darien was wearing. I'd been focused on his irritatingly handsome face.

Darien Shields was not wearing a suite like I had always pictured he would back in high school. We'd all been forced to wear a uniform back in high school so I'd never known what Darien's personal style was…not that, of course, I ever thought about it.

I mean, as if.

But now here Darien was, in my office, and no longer in uniform.

Back in the day (wow don't I sound old saying that?) he'd always looked stylish even in his uniform. Guys had to wear formal black slacks and a long-sleeved white collared shirt with a navy blue blazer on top. Darien had somehow pulled it off looking absurdly handsome and comfortable. Most guys looked too formal and suppressed in their uniform but he had somehow seemed casual and relaxed with an air of confidence around him even. Maybe it's because he always had that tousled but still somehow not unkempt looking hair. Or maybe it's because he always undid the top few buttons just enough so that the teachers would never yell at him and also just enough so that he looked sexy as hell.

Well, I mean sexy as hell to everyone else.

That's what Ray always said he was.

Not me, of course! Again I must say- as if.

And today he looked even better- or at least, other people would think he looked even better.

Darien back in high school was more mature than the rest of the boys. He looked like a boyish sort of man even back then. His features had only been improved by the years apparently. His face is still boyish but the manliness there has gotten more prominent. His jaw is slightly wider and his face almost looks… well severe is the only word I can think of.

His face is not dissimilar from Christian Bale's in the new Batman movie actually. Of course, his eyes are a clear midnight blue compared to Christian's murky green. But like Christian, there is an intensity to him. Unknown mysteries to be discovered- well, by someone else of course.

And of course his attire has finally registered with me. He is in a light blue collared shirt that has a few buttons sexily- to other people- unbuttoned at the top. His cuffs have been undone also and they've been bent halfway up his arms. The blue hue of his shirt only serves to accentuate his very blue eyes. He is also in khaki pants. That's what surprises me most. I hadn't figured Darien for the khaki pants sort.

Like I said earlier- I'd always thought he was an uptight suite wearing kind of guy. I'd just thought the slightly unbuttoned shirt thing back in high school was just for show- not because he actually liked it. So either he is still trying to impress- which I kind of doubt because Darien doesn't need to try to impress (certainly he's gotten over any "fitting-in" aspects of high school)- or this is really Darien Shields.

This is what Darien wears.

This is Darien.

He is not a stuffed shirt businessman or anything. He is just a casual guy. A guy who knows how to dress nice but doesn't give up comfort for the look.

He actually looks like a lot of my very own authors- probably more attractive than most of my authors (as much as this pains me to admit) but still. This surprises me a great deal. I would never have pegged Darien for the type. Not at all.

I didn't realize how hard I had been staring and examining Darien until I saw his expression change to one of confusion and he sort of waved a hand in front of my face.

"Um, Meatballhead?" he said hesitantly. I felt heat rise up my cheeks and boy am I glad I'm wearing makeup. If I wasn't Darien would have a hundred new things to torment me over- mainly my blushing in his presence.

I quietly thanked the heavens for their mercy and focused once more.

"Uhem." I muttered slightly to get my voice back- I'm surprised at how hoarse it sounded just then but it came back- thank goodness. "As I was saying, no Darien."

Darien looked at me for a second, his eyes seeming to bore into my own.

"I knew you were a Meatballhead but I didn't know it was to this extent." Darien said in a mocking tone. Again, I felt heat rise to my cheeks but this time, not from embarrassment but from anger.

"Shields, I see you're as charming as ever." Sarcasm seeped through my voice like syrup on pancakes. "If this is the way you're trying to change my mind, you'll have to try harder."

"Well, you haven't been exactly welcoming since I came have you?" Darien questioned with that upturned brow thing again. "What with the amnesia bit and all," once again, I regret to say heat rushed up my face. "Really professional Serena."

I wasn't going to admit he was right because no matter how childish it sounds- he started it first! And I told him that- well not in those exact words of course.

"Yes, and 'Ms. Meatballhead' is a very professional thing to call me."

Darien shrugged, completely unrepentant. "As they say, old habits die hard."

"But they still die." I replied acidly. "Swift and horrible deaths." I muttered the second part. I was no longer talking just about old habits and Darien knew it because he laughed. I was even more annoyed at the fact that his laugh was actually rather cute and not some very disgusting snorting pig type of laugh. Of course, I should have known it wouldn't be. It never had been before and Darien was only ever a pig when it came to his manners- towards me anyway.

"Well, Serena." Darien said my name with great emphasis. He wanted to make sure that I knew he could actually remember my name. And it seemed to me that he was almost expecting me to applaud his restraint or something. To reward him for his good behavior. Like when a dog does a trick you give him a treat. Well, Darien doesn't deserve a treat no matter what he thinks of himself. He's never been a great dog. A dog, yes, but not a great one.

And I was not going to melt at the first sign of amiability like he probably thought I would.

"Ms. Tsukino." I corrected acidly.

He was actually taken aback this time but only for a second. He composed himself quickly and rectified, "Well, Ms. Tsukino," to my surprise it didn't come out mocking but actually with a hint of awed respect, "I apologize for my behavior. Old habits are hard to break." He said it with only the slightest sarcasm- I was actually a little impressed at his restraint but I had to add my own comment anyway.

"Try harder."

"I sincerely apologize." He said again, ignoring my interruption. "But I will not take up more of you're precious time. I'll leave you with this." He opened a black sidebag that I hadn't noticed was slung across his shoulders and retrieved his rather long manuscript. He placed it on one of the few unoccupied spots on my desk and smiled slightly at my expression. I knew what that expression was. Despite myself I was surprised. He actually had a manuscript. He had actually written something.

And I know that might sound like a dumb thing to be awed by but it is an impressive feat. I can't count how many great authors have sourly disappointed me because they could never finish their stories. They'd begin and I'd go into the endeavor with high hopes and in the end those hopes would be crushed because some people don't have enough self-discipline and ambition to finish a book.

Sadly I am among those people.

I've started countless novels but they continue to remain idly on my laptop with no closure.

So you can see my annoyance that Darien Shields- my most hated (okay, my only) enemy- has accomplished my biggest dream. He's finished writing a novel.

Even if his novel turns out to be the most absurd, horrendous piece of literature ever to appear on this Earth he finished and I've never been able to.

As these thoughts flowed through my mind I was vaguely aware of Darien moving toward the door of my office and I barely registered his parting words.

"Oh and just so you know Meatballhead," I vaguely heard in the back of my mind, "I came to you because I heard you're actually good. For a Meatballhead anyway."

The click of the door alerted me of his departure but I was still in a sort of trance- still thinking about how it was that my archenemies had stolen my dreams.

I know it's irrational to think that way. After all, if I were to accuse him of such a crime then I would have to accuse every author out there- including my own. I had never been envious of my writers. I'd always been proud of them for accomplishing their goals, their dreams.

But in Darien's case it felt like he had done it on purpose.

Almost as if this was just a continuance of our old vendetta.

Irrational as that thought was, it was enough to have me fighting back annoyed and angry tears.

Thirty minutes later…

"My fix please." I said sourly as I returned to my favorite barista for second time in a day.

Cindy looked up in surprise. She'd been making what appeared to be a cappuccino for who knows who- since I don't see anyone around. She stopped what she was doing when she saw me though.

I wasn't surprised by her surprise. I usually only come to my little haven once a day.

Twice has always meant something was wrong.

I can count the times I came twice in one day on one hand.

When I didn't get that promotion I totally deserved—and eventually got.

When Brad had just been hired and he'd come into my office and used my computer and somehow crashed it- destroying all its contents and more specifically the beginning of a novel I was working on.

When I'd learned of my grandmother's passing my second year working here.

And now.

"Oh, Sere, what happened?" Cindy said coming around from behind the register to stand in front of me and place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

I shrugged noncommittally and apparently sensing my dire need for my fix she immediately ran around to her little barista workstation and went to work.

In only a few moments she'd placed a steaming mug of delicious hot cocoa in my hand. She'd put extra whipped cream on top with lots of chocolate shavings. I knew beneath that a boatload of marshmallows awaited me.

Have I mentioned how much I love Cindy?

I sank down onto one of the chairs and began to work on the delicious concoction resting warmly between my hands.

"Sere, do you wanna talk about it?" Cindy asked tentatively. She'd taken the seat across from me. Being the good friend that she is she'd completely forgotten about her job. "Or is it too soon?" She added, barely above a whisper.

I knew I should probably dissuade her assumptions but I didn't feel like speaking just yet. The wonderful aroma of my cocoa was just too alluring to pass up.

So I settled for giving her a sincere smile and muttering something about returning to the cappuccino.

My mention of that cappuccino seemed to do the trick- reminding her of her job. Obviously Cindy was not likely to be fired- being the building owner's daughter and all- but she still had a strong work ethic. She swiftly finished the cappuccino and a slightly older man seemed to appear out of nowhere to accept it. He didn't seem bothered by the wait because he was too distracted chatting away on his cell phone. He walked- more like ran actually- out as soon as his drink was in hand.

Cindy didn't have anymore customers to worry about so she came to once again sit in front of me.

"Sere?" She asked again, hesitantly.

I had finished off my whipped cream and was halfway done with the rest of my cocoa by this point so I felt strong enough to finally answer her.

The only thing that came out when I tried to speak though was, "Shields," and it came out like an angry growl.