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"Oi," I snap my fingers in front of the person with glasses, "stop looking at my legs."

Keigo growls, "Oshitari…"

He grins sheepishly across from me in the limo and pushes his glasses higher up his nose. The person on his right writhes in his seat, unable to keep still. The long-haired person on the left of Oshitari, who asked who I was in the morning, just scowls. Kabaji sits, disinterested in the people around him and the orange-haired boy next to him snores. The two other players perch on the edge of their seat, looking at the others.

I turn and raise an eyebrow at Keigo, as if to ask if these are really his best tennis players. He just mirrors me, raising an eyebrow.

The limo slows to a stop in front a small building. The short journey could have been made on foot if the drive was only five minutes, but I knew better than to tell that to Keigo, as he would have reeled in horror of walking in front of other people than me. I open the door before the chauffeur could get to it and I swore I saw his eye twitch in frustration.

"Sapphire," Keigo says smoothly, "it's their job to open the door."

"I have hands," I retort back and stroll into the café. The others just follow as Keigo shakes his head.

"I didn't expect for Atobe's girlfriend to act as if the world wasn't her servant," the brown long-haired boy mutters acerbically while plopping down into the booth. The rest of the players slide in, and Keigo and I sit at the end.

I laugh. "I'm not dating Keigo."

The rest of the tennis players drop the menus they were holding.

"He's my best friend," I said, perusing the menu for a blended ice coffee drink. "His royal airhead has known me since we were two. Currently, he wondering why he's sitting in a café he finds plebeian."

Keigo snorts in agreement. "Ore-sama finds no need to be in a place littered with commoners."

"Ah," I yawn. "Shut up Keigo. I'm hungry and it's funny to watch the waitresses eye you as their prey."

He rolls his eyes as a waitress strolls over swaying her hips and bending over to show off her low neckline.

"Hello," she purrs. "What can I get you fine men?" She eyes all of the tennis players squished into the largest booth the building had to offer. Her gaze lands on me and irritation flashes across her face as she notices I'm sitting next to the Atobe Keigo, the most well-known teenager of all of Japan and heir to Atobe Corporation.

I smirk, knowing exactly what is going through her head. "I'll have a mocha blended ice coffee drink," I start.

"With whipped cream and a bit of caramel blended in," Keigo finishes in a bored tone. "Make that one for each of us."

The waitress nods, annoyed. As the others list off their orders, she gathers the menus and then leaves with her tail between her legs, with Oshitari's eyes following.

I gently whack Oshitari with a napkin sitting on the table. "Stop staring at women's legs. At least be more discreet."

He chuckles, "If I can't look at yours, I have to look at someone's."

"So," I said, addressing the people sitting in front of me and ignoring Oshitari's comment. "Keigo is just like my brother: annoying and protective, yet oddly platonic for his narcissistic self."

"Don't you mean my beautiful, narcissistic self?" Keigo asks, with his mouth quirking up.

I roll my eyes. "See what I mean?"

"Usu."

I grin at Kabaji's sassy simple reply as some of the others drop their mouths in shock. Even Keigo wears an expression of mild surprise.

"So," I beam at the shocked tennis players, "tell me about yourselves."

"Oshitari. Oshitari Yuushi," says the person with the glasses.

"Shishido," says the brown longhaired boy.

"My name is Choutarou. Nice to meet you," murmurs the silver-haired boy who had complimented my voice earlier.

I smile back at him.

"Hiyoshi."

"Gakuto," said the boy who would not stop moving.

I turn my gaze to the boy who was snoring against the window.

"That's Jirou. He's always asleep," said Shishido, shaking his head. "He even sleeps through practice. The only time he stays awake is when we are prepping to play practice matches with Rikkaidai."

"He sleeps a couple minutes less than he used to," Oshitari counters.

The waitress saunters over, holding our drinks. The girl who seemed to be the same age as me bends over again, trying to rub her chest into the tennis players' faces as she hands over the beverages and food. "If you need anything," she says breathily, "don't hesitate to call." She winks at Keigo, who fails to notice.

I snort as she leaves. "Desperate."

I take a sip of the drink and attempt not to moan at the sweetness that slides over my tongue. Kabaji pokes Jirou awake as he messes up his hair and yawns. I hear the jingling of the café door opening as I taste the drink again and hear familiar voices arguing.

"It's okay, Jackal will pay," a certain redhead says to a seaweed head.

"Wait, why do I have to pay?" Jackal questions, eyes wide.

"I'll pay," I interrupt, grinning and waving to trio.

Jirou attempts to jump up towards the three, waving his arms. "Marui-kun!" he yells, bug-eyed and a grin stretching across his face.

"Pull up a seat," I gesture towards the end of the booth.

The three pull up seats and plop down unceremoniously. Jirou instantly start blabbering to Marui about him being a genius and volleys while Jackal sits quietly. Kirihara just smirks at everyone, sprawled in his chair, emerald eyes reflecting his carefree attitude.

I nudge Jackal. "No hard feelings about this afternoon?"

He smiles back, "Yeah."

The waitress saunters over for the third time and passes out the menus to the trio. I smirk as she leaves, amused in her frustration of my existence.

"Keigo, do me a favor and give the waitress your number," I said, sipping my drink.

The regulars freeze and instantly fall silent.

"Why?"

"Because if looks could kill, she would have stabbed me three times already," I muse. "She thinks we're going out."

Oshitari smiles. "I didn't think you were aware."

"Ore-sama knows he's attractive, but why does everyone think that ore-sama is dating you?" he asks, playing with his straw.

"Because ore-sama," I reply sarcastically, "is a royal airhead to fails to establish who I am."

"What do you want me to do? Tell every person who sees us that you're my best friend? I don't have to tell everyone that Kabaji is my other best friend."

"Kabaji isn't a girl. Therefore, in essence, yes. I don't fancy being mauled by fan girls or kidnapped by people wanting money."

"Fine, give me a napkin and a pen," he sighs, giving up.

"Don't you have your own business card?" I smile back, bemused.

The waitress returns, with a pitcher of water in her hand and a scheming grin on her face. As the trio order, she leans over and I feel the cool water spill over my face and on to my shirt. My good mood vanishes as I realize that she did that on purpose.

Keigo springs up. "What do you think you're doing?" he yells, realizing the intent.

I look down at my white t-shirt as it clings to my skin. As Keigo starts to rant, I cover my chest with my arms and my cheeks feel warm.

"How dare you do that to ore-sama's company? This is ridiculous!" he rants. I simply tug at his arm, trying to get him to sit down. I can feel the white t-shirt plastered to my chest and I bite my lip, trying to shrink out of existence. The rest of the Hyotei team attempts to pacify Keigo as he continues to fume and the waitress stutters, red, claiming that it was an accident.

I feel the stares of other people in the restaurant because of my now see-through shirt and Keigo's demand to see the manager. Someone taps my shoulder and I turn towards him, not able to look him in the face.

"Here," he mumbles, throwing a red jacket over my shoulders. The fruity apple scent swirls around me as I clutch it, gratefully, slide my arms into the sleeves and pull the zipper up.

"Thank you," I mumble back, cheeks red while I try to look into his amethyst eyes and fail miserably.

Marui nods with a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks and turns towards the waitress. He cuts through the argument politely, "Not to be rude, but can we get our orders?"

The waitress runs away from the scene. She obviously didn't expect the uproar that came with spilling water on me and must have thought I would leave to go to the bathroom and leave all of the tennis players to her discretion.

Keigo sighs, sitting back down, "You're all wet now."

"I'm a swimmer. I'm always wet," I reply with a small smile.

"That's what she said," Mukahi mutters while drumming his fingers against the table.

I can't help but snicker at the joke while Shishido comments in his usual scathing tone, "That was super lame."

The group collapses back into comfortable conversation with Kabaji sitting silently and Jirou exclaiming about how cool Marui-kun is.

"Keigo?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"I'm paying."

His head snaps up. "No you're not."

"Yes."

"No."

"If you don't let me, I'll show them a picture of you in a dress."

His face blanched, "Fine."

Kirihara whistles and grins, "You're almost as good in blackmailing as Niou-senpai."

I smile sadistically. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't," Marui wags his finger, "it means that he'll start a prank war with you."

The waitress scurries in front of the table with the trio's order with her head down and remaining meek.

With my good mood returning, I nudge Keigo and motion to the waitress with my head. He shakes his head, as if to say 'no, not after that incident.' I mouth the word dress and his face blanches again. He pulls out his wallet, takes out a business card, and hands it to the waitress.

"Call me," he says, not looking at her. She clutches the card and visibly brightens.

"Can you bring the check please?" I ask. She nods and scampers off.

I pull out my phone and play with the swimmer charm on it. Handing it to him, I said, "Open it."

He opens and sees the picture. He snaps the phone closed and shuts his eyes, as if in denial. I grab the phone out of his hand and slide it to Oshitari before Keigo could protest. Oshitari flips it open and bursts into laughter at the sight of his captain in a frilly pink frock and me smiling next to him, innocently, in a tuxedo. He passes the phone around the table and the majority of Hyotei players snicker at the view of a younger Atobe Keigo.

His eye twitches, "Sapphire…" he says in a warning tone.

I flutter my eyelashes back. "You were going to take me shopping. You know how much I hate shopping. Plus, you gave the waitress a number to your I'm-never-answering-these-calls phone."

He grits his teeth. "You weren't supposed to notice that. Now we're definitely going shopping this weekend."

I roll my eyes. "Where to this time? Barcelona? London?"

"This time I'm showing you the horrors of shopping in Tokyo."

I fake-gulp. "Now Keigo, let's not get hasty."

"No way. You beat me and I'll just squash you."

I grin. "Oh? We're not talking about shopping and pictures of you in dresses anymore, are we? Are you thinking about that tennis game we played when we were seven?" I tease.

"We were seven! I would beat you now!" he protests.

"Gekokujou," Hiyoshi murmurs, folding his arms above his head.

"Exactly," Keigo agrees. "But she never cared about winning for tennis. It was just fun for her. She could be amazing if she cared."

I shrug. "You know you would slaughter me now. I'll leave the tennis to you and my brother. He says hi, by the way."

The waitress slides the check on to the table. I grab the check, toss my credit card on top, and hand it back to her. She seizes it and dashes off.

"You're paying for all of us?" Choutarou asks, with his eyes wide. "That's not right."

I shrug. "Yeah, it's my treat. It's my way of saying sorry to Keigo for not telling him I was in Japan and sorry to you guys for making you think I was Keigo's girlfriend." I turn toward the Rikkaidai trio, "And it's my way of saying sorry for messing with your practice."

Murmurs of "you didn't have to," and "really, you shouldn't have," and "man, you're better than Marui-senpai," echo around the table. Keigo keeps his mouth shut, still slightly annoyed that I showed them the picture.

I smile and wave it off, "It's fine. Besides, I enjoyed meeting you all."

"Hey! What do you mean Klysen is better than me?" Marui challenges Kirihara.

"Yeah, I'm the one that pays anyways," Jackal mutters.

"Sapphire, I'm not mad at you for not telling me," Keigo said quietly in German, so that only I could hear, while sliding his hand over mine and squeezing. "I was just worried about you. Even I'm sad. They were great people. And as happy as you act right now, you're in denial of what happened."

I shoot him a downcast smile. "Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them," I whisper in English, with my voice catching in my throat.

"George Eliot," he murmurs back in his British accent. "Also known as Mary Ann Evans. One of the most brilliant British women of her time."

The waitress severs the conversation by sliding my card across the table and I tuck it back into my wallet that was hiding in the waistband of my shorts.

I stand and spoke in a lighter tone, "Well, it's been great meeting new people but I have homework to do. I'll just grab my bags from the car and walk home."

Keigo shoots me a glare, "No, you're being driven home."

I stick out my tongue. "Make me," and dash out of the café with a smile on my face. I pretend not to hear the yell of "Sapphire!" before I exit through the door.

I chuckle to myself, knowing that Keigo probably wants to run after me, but is debating not to because I had already taken him down a couple of pegs in front of his team. I snatch my bags from the limo before the chauffer could say anything and set off towards my flat. The chauffer probably hates me for not letting me do his job.

"Klysen-senpai!"

I turn around and Kirihara waves as the two older tennis players walk behind him. I wait for the three to catch up.

"Thank you for the food Klysen-senpai!" Kirihara grins, strolling alongside me.

"Yeah, thanks," Jackal mumbles. "For once I didn't have to pay."

I ruffle the seaweed head's hair. "You really are like a puppy. One nice deed and you're following me around," I tease and then frown. "Is your hair normally like this? It looks like a swimmer's."

"Yeah. It's kind of annoying."

"What are you talking about? That's awesome. All the style without any of the damage. You're lucky," I grin at him. "Wish my hair was like that."

He looks at me seriously with his emerald green eyes. "Most people laugh at it."

"If you like it, that's all that matters," I smile at him.

"You're cheesy," Marui commented.

"It's one of my not-so-fine points. Like dancing. Or history. Or art," I reply.

"I have no weak points," Kirihara boasts, pointing at himself with his thumb.

Jackal scoffs. "Tell that to your English grade."

Kirihara deflates like a punctured balloon. "I wasn't talking about school-wise," he mumbles, kicking a pebble.

"Well," Jackal tugs at Kirihara's arm, "this is our street. See you tomorrow."

"Bye!" I wave.

The two walk away and the gum-chewer strolls alongside me in a comfortable silence.

"Marui-kun?" I interrupt the quiet.

"Just call me Marui, Klysen."

"Well, Marui, does the captain usually have back pain and issues walking sometimes?" I inquired.

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

"Your captain was rubbing his lower back today in practice. And he had some unsteady steps."

"Not normally, no. He probably just slept in a weird position. Or maybe still recovering from being sick last week," he replied.

"Oh, okay."

The calm lull in conversation once again takes over, as the occasional bird chirps and crickets sound during the beginning of dusk.

"You're different, you know?" he says, looking up at the sky streaked with orange and pink.

"How?" I ask, surprised.

"Most girls dislike Kirihara after seeing his snarky personality. And most girls would try to flirt with everyone on the team if allowed in the courts. And honestly, I could go on for hours," he said, not looking me in the eye. "But you might run in the other direction if you see Kirihara play an actual game."

"Why would I do that?"

"Come see us play on Saturday. You'll understand."

"I will after swim practice," I promise. "Although, I'm not sure the other team members would be so happy to see me there."

He shrugs and blows a gum bubble. "They'll warm up to you eventually. Most of them are not used to girls not screaming, 'I love you! Date me and love me!' every time they pass by."

"That must be really annoying. I'm used to cute little kids coming up to me and hugging me," I smile fondly, remembering my last meet in the US.

"I wouldn't mind that. I get enough from my little brothers when they try to distract me from their mischief," he said and then curses, "the little devils."

I chuckle. "Aren't all siblings?"

"They wouldn't be so bad if Niou didn't teach them his ways. Now they want to grow rat-tails, say 'Puri' or 'Piyo,' and slip fake spiders down girls' shirts," he rolls his eyes.

"The rat-tails are obviously the worst part," I joke. "So 1980."

Marui shudders. "Great music but awful choices in, well, everything else. And twenty years before my favorite band existed."

"Which is?" I said.

"Orange Range. They're playing along with another band American band in Tokyo in two weeks. I tried getting tickets but they're sold out."

"Yeah, with 30 Seconds to Mars," I reply, remembering Keigo's gift which was now stowed away in my backpack. "My favorite band."

"Well that sucks," he said. "We can't see our favorite bands."

"I don't see why not," I reply. "I have extra tickets."

My words register in my head and I realized I sounded like I was asking him out. My cheeks turn pink.

"Not like that though," I add hastily. "You know, as friends?"

His cheeks turn crimson too. "Yeah, sure. Sounds fun."

I look up from my feet and spot my flat.

"Well, bye Marui," I said. "This is my flat."

I quickly escape from the awkward situation I put myself in and jab at the lock on my door with the key. Shutting the door, I flee from the outside world and the redhead outside my abode. I peek through the window next to the door. The redhead turns around and walks in the direction had come from minutes earlier. Why would he do retrace his steps?

I kick off my shoes and realize I was still clad in his bright crimson regular's jersey. Cursing my luck, I facepalm but do not take it off because of the comforting fruity apple scent rising from the fibers of the jacket that was a little too big on my frame.

I hear the doorbell ring and I fling it open, thinking he had returned for his jersey. "Marui, I'm so sorry-"

Azuri smiles in front of me, bemused. "Marui? And are you wearing a tennis regular's jersey?"

"Um," I run my fingers through my drying hair and answer sheepishly. "It's kind of a long story."

I step aside and motion for her to come in.

"You free next weekend? Not this coming one, but the week after?" I inquire, somewhat desperately.

"Oh no way girl, you are not changing the subject on me." She grins sadistically, "I want to know everything."

"Fine, but you have to come to a concert with me," I beg.

She sits on the couch, I let the recollection of the whole day pour out of my mouth, and Azuri just laughs and laughs.

"And that's why," I finish the rant, "you have to come to the concert with me."

I looked up at the setting sun, thinking about the events from the last two hours. Kirihara had insisted that he was hungry and tagged along with me and Jackal to go get food. I only shrugged, thinking that sugar could take off the edge from the pangs in my chest. Little did I know that the Hyotei regulars in the same café would surround the same girl who disappointed me.

I had kept my mouth shut, quietly dealing with my mood, when she told us to sit down with her. Jackal could tell that something was wrong as Jirou had started to talk to me, and sent me worried glances time to time. I listened to the easy conversation between everyone until the narcissist asks why everyone thinks he's dating Klysen.

"What do you want me to do?" the egomaniac had asked. "Tell every person who sees us that you're my best friend?"

I froze. Best friend? She was his best friend? My mind had flashed back to the end of practice when she hugged Atobe. That was supposed to be a friendly gesture? I had studied her face, seeing nothing but fondness for the narcissist sitting across from her, not reverence or adoration like most fan girls. The pangs in my chest disappear as I had let the realization of them just being friends sink in.

I smile to myself, kicking a pebble on the ground while walking home. I had felt so stupid as the awareness had sunk in that the Hyotei regulars had followed Atobe because they made the same assumption I had.

I let the waitress take my order while I still gazed at her. The waitress had tipped the pitcher of water on her head and drenched her in the white shirt, making it pretty much see through. She had turned red out of embarrassment and while the braggart was yelling at the waitress, I had stripped off my red regulars jersey and draped it over her shoulders, not caring at the way Jackal and Kirihara were shocked at my actions.

She had paid for all of us, and I wanted to protest but she said it was her way of apologizing for messing with our practices. I couldn't bring myself to say what I had thought, I couldn't say that she wasn't messing with our practices but making them interesting. Tolerable. Today was the one day that Niou hadn't pranked someone, and that Sanada was off his edge, just because she was in the tennis courts, training alongside us.

When she stood up and ran out, the narcissist had yelled after her. Jackal, Kirihara, and I knew it was time for us to leave too as we got up and Jackal excused the three of us. I hadn't expected Kirihara to run up to her and for us to walk home together. When Jackal and Kirihara had left for their street, I didn't know what to say to the girl clad in my regular's jacket. Her wet auburn hair had framed her face and I couldn't help but notice the contrast between the jacket and her eyes. I couldn't help but blurt out that she was different, and thankfully she remained oblivious to the real meaning behind that word, that she was interesting. I couldn't help but sink into an easy conversation and laugh at her sarcasm as we had walked past my house. I could help but ignore that fact and walk her home.

When I couldn't help when my cheeks got warm when she had asked if I wanted the extra concert ticket, I knew I was in trouble. She had clarified that she meant the invitation as a friend and had promptly escaped the awkward situation by going into her flat, she too realizing how she had sounded while asking.

So here I am now, shuffling home after turning around and retracing the path that we had taken minutes earlier.

I flip out my phone and punch in a number to speed dial and huff impatiently as it rings.

"Yo," Niou answers. "Sorry that I couldn't come with you three after practice. My parents needed to tell me something."

"It's cool," I answer. "Guess who I ran into?"

"Lemme guess. Klysen?"

My brow furrows. "How did you know?"

"A bunch of girls texted me about how they saw you, Jackal, and Kirihara, along with Hyotei people, in a café with her."

I roll my eyes at his network of girls that give him all the information he ever needs. "Yeah, turns out Yanagi was wrong. She's not dating Atobe. They are best friends."

"How is anyone friends with someone so narcissistic?"

"He's not full of himself around her. Matter of fact, she showed us a picture of him in a dress," I grin, remembering Atobe's face when he saw the picture. "She's not like the fan girls, Niou. She's different."

"Yeah, I noticed. I can't read her. Sanada seems confused as to why she can look him in the face and not run in the other direction."

I snort. "So that makes three people that aren't scared of him: you, Klysen, and Yukimura. Speaking of Yukimura," I remember, "can you watch him to see if he has muscle weakness tomorrow? Klysen said she noticed him slightly unbalanced."

"Yeah I'll watch him during practice. It's probably nothing though," he said dismissively. "By the way, I taught your brothers the cups-of-water trick last weekend. You know, when you walk into a room and the floor is covered with cups of water?"

"Niou…" I growl.

"Puri!" he blurts into the phone and hangs up.

I groan, not looking forward to cleaning up after my brothers.

Please read, review, and favorite! It would mean a lot to get some criticism.

I know this seems like filler, but it's not. It'll be more obvious next chapter.