Author's Note:

Hey everyone! Thanks for continuing to read my story. I'm glad so many of you like it ) I love reading your comments. Hope you enjoy this next chapter. I'm sorry it has taken so many chapters to really get the story going but now it is totally on! I'm excited.

Futureprincess

You Again?

Chapter 7

"But we have to put some rules down before anything is official," I said, looking seriously at Darien, "No t's will be crossed, no i's will be dotted until I'm sure that you will not negate any of these rules or regulations or stipulations or what have you."

"I don't have any t's to cross." Darien said.

"Well I do." I countered. My irritation was at a record high.

I knew this was a horrible idea from the start but what else could I have possibly done?

Option 1: Let some other company get the contract on this extraordinary book.

Not really an option- if Becky (the head chairman of Holmes Agency) ever found out- which would only have been a matter of time- she'd have my head on a pike. The guillotine would look like mercy. Becky hates getting "scooped"- as she calls it- although we aren't in the usual setting for that term to be used.

Option 2: Let some other agent within the company get the contract.

No way. Despite the fact that Darien Shields would be number 1 on my hitlist- were I to make one- I just can't do that. I've been in this industry long enough to know that a great novel is hard to come by and once you see it you gotta go for it right away. Twilight for instance- lots of agents rejected Meyer's novel and now they're all agonizing over the loss. I will most certainly not let anything related to Darien Shields torture me for years to come. That is unthinkable.

So here I am. After getting almost no sleep- after staying up reading the manuscript I couldn't fall into blissful unconsciousness due to the fact that the stupid book wouldn't get out of my head- I am back in my office. I didn't even have to call Darien to make an appointment. He was way ahead of me.

Apparently he'd been scheduled in my calendar for the same time two days in a row aka yesterday and today. The arrogant jerk had known exactly what I'd do. He knew I would never accept his proposal the first day and he knew that I would read it that night and the next day I couldn't possibly say no. As I said before- arrogant jerk!

"And that is beside the point." I said with an exasperated sigh. Talking to Darien takes its toll.

"Alright, I'm all ears." Darien replied- quite courteously actually. Wow I'm shocked. Darien can act civil! Miracles do happen!! Santa must exist!

"Number one, no calling me meatballhead, especially in front of my coworkers. Not that it is tolerable in any circumstance." I put out my index finger to show that this was just the first of many rules he'd have to abide by but Darien ignored the gesture and opened his mouth to protest. "Uh uh." I wagged the already raised finger. He ignored that gesture too. At this precise moment I really wish I'd picked another finger to point- and I'm never that rude!

"Just listen… Serena." It almost looked like he was in pain just saying my name, like he was being tortured.

"Ms. Tsukino." I corrected him. If I were to be honest, it was just to spit him. I'd never made any of my other authors speak to me so formally- I actually encourage them to use my first name. But this was Darien. He's an exception.

He didn't react like I thought. I thought he'd just accept it and move on to his other argument but he didn't. He rolled his eyes and wagged his own finger at me.

"Uh uh, don't think so." He began while crossing his legs (that weird way guys do- not really crossed at all, more like using one foot as a footrest) and as I was about to protest he shook his head- ignoring me!- and continued, "You don't make any of your authors or your coworkers call you that do you?"

His eyes bore into mine. For some reason I felt compelled to tell the truth.

"Well, no." I began and as he was about to pounce my brilliant mind came up with something else, "Actually, Brad always calls me Ms. Tsukino."

I was proud of myself for coming up with that point but Darien didn't seem impressed.

"Do I in any way come off as a Brad?" Darien asked. It was a rhetorical question I knew we both knew the answer to it.

Absolutely not.

Brad was shy and easily intimidated while Darien was bold and always unfazed.

Brad stammered and mumbled while Darien articulated words with meticulous care and precision.

Not to mention of course the most obviously contrasting of their traits- their physical appearances.

Brad is pale and blonde. He has weird grayish brown eyes.

Darien- while not exactly tan- is a tad darker (a healthier hue of white- not the chalky ghostly hue of Brad) and his hair is like the midnight sky. He, of course, has hooded (also midnight) blue eyes that are not at all weird- more like piercing.

Even their postures are in no way similar. Brad sort of hunches forward a little- as if shielding himself from something (Me? Himself? The outside world? Who knows?). Darien on the other hand is always fully erect (uh! Not that way sicko!) and he never crawls into some imaginary shell (unlike Brad).

Darien's voice eventually cut off my evaluations. I'd missed the beginning of what he'd said though.

"I'll try my best to refrain from calling you Meatballhead, but I can't promise anything." Darien said with a shrug. "Sorry," he said it as an afterthought but there was actual sincerity to the apology. Huh.

But I wasn't going to let him off the hook just because he'd apparently gained a conscious in the past decade.

"And why not?" I demanded.

I was really rather curious to know why it was so hard for him to not annoy me to death.

"Old habits." Darien said with a dazzling smile. "I've mentioned them before haven't I?"

"Yes, I think I remember something along those lines." I muttered, annoyed at the reminder of our last meeting.

"What? No amnesia?" Darien teased but I couldn't find it in me to be mad. He was actually sorta funny… I gave him a small, uncertain smile despite myself. This was just so weird.

"Fine." I sighed, resigned but somehow not feeling bad about the fact. I was still smiling at him and that creeped me out a little. My head was ringing with warning bells- yelling at me, telling me, "Serena?! What the hell are you doing??" but I ignored myself- it is a surprisingly easy thing to do.

"Number two," I said- getting back on track and ignoring the smile that still ghosted Darien's features. "You can never mention any of my embarrassing high school experiences to anyone." I emphasized the ever and anyone incase he didn't realize how serious I was. "Not even a little old lady you meet on the bus on you're way home--" I began and he interrupted with a mumbled "I don't take the bus, who takes the bus?"

I ignored that question purposely. I take the bus. But I will most certainly not give Darien the pleasure of knowing that little fact. My car broke down two months ago and the mechanic I took it to told me it would cost more to fix my car (or as he so lovingly nicknamed it "the damn thing") than to buy a new used car- obviously I haven't gotten around to purchasing that new used vehicle.

"—Not the bellboy in you're apartment." I continued but he interrupted me again with a laugh.

"What kind of apartment has a bellboy?" Darien said smirking at my ignorance. "Bellboys work in hotels Meatballhead."

"Ah ha!" I said- a little too loud… oops- the rest came out in a whisper (I don't know why- maybe I thought by whispering the second part the loudness of my first exclamation would somehow be nullified? I know- I'm weird) "See, you're already breaking my rules."

Darien rolled his eyes but apologized anyway with a now insincere "sorry" and then he added, "Why are you whispering?"

I cleared my throat and gave the same annoying shrug he'd been giving me so much, "I dunno. Just came out."

I was not going to explain the weirdness factor to him.

Darien just smiled, lifted his right hand up as though giving some sort of legal oath, looked me straight in the eyes, and said "I will not mention to any one- not even little old ladies on the bus or bellboys in my apartment"- this last statement was accompanied by another roll of his eyes, "any of your embarrassing high school moments." With another smirk he continued- no longer looking at me as he spoke, "like the time you came to school in the completely see through white dress"- I was stammering and blushing fiercely before he even said "see through" and then I began to shush him loudly (no one could hear us in here- probably- but it can't hurt to be too cautious- Brad could be eavesdropping! What was he thinking?!) but he didn't even flinch- he trudged on with an odd spark in his stupidly blue eyes (damn him!) "and I had to inform you that it was not, in fact, you're pretty dress everyone was admiring."

"Shields!" I hissed. I'd never hissed before. I'd read books where people supposedly hissed but I never really thought a hiss would sound like a hiss. Mine certainly did.

"Shields? Why the formality? I thought we'd gotten past all that." Darien was still smirking. "Especially after what I've seen." I was about to protest but he laughed slightly and added, "Me and the rest of Juban High actually."

He was laughing.

Arg!!

He was laughing at me!!

How dare he?! What right did he have to bring up my bad- maybe even traumatic- memories? So what? I'd done some stupid things- accidentally might I add- in high school! Who hasn't?

So no one can blame me for what I did next. I mean- Darien should have totally seen this one coming! He deserved it!

I went around my desk in a few short strides- Darien still laughing it up, having the time of his life- and I slapped him.

The smile was immediately wiped off his annoyingly gorgeous, arrogant face and he stared at me in shock. His expression said it all- he couldn't believe what I'd just done. Little Meatballhead had grown a pair (not in the literal sense of course). I'd never been one for violence. I'd only ever slapped (as in a real slap- not playful) Ray- but that was only because she was so hysterical.

This slap had been entirely different. It was one of true rage and of – not quite hatred (I don't hate anyone)- but extreme dislike for sure.

We stared eachother down for what seemed like an eternity and a mere second at the same time. I glared down at him (he was still seated)- furious at him for not just his previous comment but for everything he'd ever said and done to me. That slap had been coming for the past decade. I'd endured too much for any one person to handle. I'd been holding my anger in far too long. Back in my teen years I'd just stuttered a "jerk" but I was no longer that insecure, fragile little girl- I wouldn't run away to cut my "meatballs" off just so he would stop tormenting me. I'd lived a life full of trials and tribulations and I had made it through by being not only resilient but also aggressive- not passive like my high school years.

And to my utter shock Darien didn't rise and march out the door or start yelling at me—like I would have expected him to (I knew he'd never use violence-- against a woman anyway). He smiled (his right cheek slightly red from my impulsive attack) and said, "Well, well. Finally, Serena. Took you long enough."

I looked at him, baffled by this oddest of responses.