Hey guys!

So, I managed to write some 8000 words this week-end, so I'll be able to make up to 3 updates during my first week of exams!

This is one of them (first part of the date in itself, so be warned, I've reached the max. level of fluffiness. Of course, this will have to be counterbalanced later... Héhé...), and I'll post the next chapter on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Sorry for the cliffhanger, I had to cut it there to keep the lenght reasonable (you can always try to find what's going to happen next!)

Enjoy your reading, and if you have any advice or remark whatsoever, let me know! :-)

Chapter 7

I take one last quick glance in the mirror, and just when I turn the light off I hear a sharp knock on the door. This is it. Right on time. I try to refrain from giggling stupidly as I put my shoes on and take my purse on the coffee table. I take a few seconds to compose myself and clear my throat, and I open the door. My smile disappears from my face instantly, replaced by a flabbergasted look. Wow. Is that really Fang? One thing is sure, I wasn't expecting this. I imagined slacks, a skirt, a dress, even some kind of elaborated sari, but not this. This definitely isn't what I could have hoped for. She could have been so beautiful in a pretty dress – she can be beautiful in basically anything, anyway. But this?

She's wearing a perfectly ironed tuxedo, with the white shirt, the black polished shoe, the black tie and everything - she's even tied her wild hair into a short ponytail with a black ribbon. At first, I don't know what to say, nor what to think. I don't even know if I like it, as a matter of fact. But then she smiles, and I fall for it. I don't know how she can do that, but even in men's clothes she looks smoking hot. She looks handsome – the perfect gentleman every straight woman must have dreamt of once in their lives – and sexy. That's just supernatural.

She smoothes the front of her suit jacket and crosses her hands as if she doesn't know what to do with them. She's so cute when she looks shy like this, I feel my heart melt in a wave of affection.

'I, hum,' she begins softly with a blush, starting to rock back and forth on her feet. 'You look… Beautiful.'

'Thank you,' I say with a smile, trying to make her feel comfortable – because obviously she's super nervous. 'So do you.'

'Oh, really?' she sighs heavily, as if relieved. 'I was scared you wouldn't like it, I know it's not really conventional, but I just hate dresses, and I found this, I thought it might be nice, but if you're not fine with it I have a dress in the car, you know, maybe you don't want to hang out with me if I wear this…'

'Fang,' I cut, taking her hand as she takes a deep breath. 'I'm totally fine with you being handsome, and I definitely want to hang out with you. So where are you taking me?'

'Well, you'll see,' she simply says with a wink.

She smiles at me when I give her a disappointed pout, and takes me gently by the arm. Then, she leads me to the car and opens the door, before extending her arm so that I can use it to take a seat.

'Madam,' she says with deliberate grandiloquence, and even adds a small bow for good measure.

I use the few seconds it takes her to turn around the car and sit next to me to stifle the girlish giggle that rises in my throat – I don't want to give her plain satisfaction right from the beginning, that would just spoil the whole seduction game. The engine starts with a roar and she warmly grins at me when she buckles her belt. I don't know what's going to happen tonight, but it's probably going to be one of the best nights in my entire life – if not the best.

For more than half an hour, we remain silent – it's a very comfortable silence, though. I look at the landscape scrolling behind the window and I find it rather relaxing. The city looks truly beautiful when the night falls and the sky looks like a giant palette of blue and purple and pink. I want to share that reflection with Fang when I notice she's particularly focused on the road. Or lost in her thoughts. Actually, I think she's trying to find things to say when we'll be sitting at our table – her lips are moving from time to time, and she shrugs, and she nervously taps the wheel with her fingers. I shake my head slightly with a small smirk, thinking this is both adorable and reassuring – at least, I know I'm not the only one who dreads prolonged silences. She's not really paying attention to me, and it gives me the opportunity to look at her more in detail. I like the way she has attached her hair. It's obvious she hasn't even tried to run a comb through them, probably because she knew it would be utterly useless, but still, they look a little less wild than usual. It makes her face brighter, and the two strands falling arrogantly on her forehead, as usual, gives her a rather charming look. If it wasn't for her long eyelashes and her delicate features, she could easily have passed for some kind of handsome prince. The tuxedo fits her perfectly and doesn't take away her slenderness nor her generous curves. She's done her best to cover the lingering shades of purple of the week-old bruises and I have to admit she's done a really good job. If I didn't know they were there, I wouldn't have noticed them at all. I'm glad that for this very special night, she looks exactly like the Fang I've always known. She's truly beautiful, and I'm glad she's me gentleman tonight.

'There we are,' she finally says as she parks in front of a huge restaurant, that looks rather luxurious from the outside.

'Fang!' I say, mouth agape, when I read the name of the place on the luminous panel. 'That restaurant has to be the most expensive of the whole planet!'

'Really?' she says casually, patting her chest pocket, probably to make sure she had her wallet. 'I've just been told it's a nice place. Oh… Maybe you think it's too… Pretentious or something?'

'No, it's not that,' I answer, trying to ignore my brains yelling to me that the place actually is a bit stiff. 'It's just… How can you, I mean, we, afford that? It's just too much, I can't…'

'Hey, Lightning,' she interrupts, holding her hand up. 'I wouldn't have taken you there if I couldn't afford it. It's fine. I just want to have a good time. Please, just enjoy and let me take care of things, okay?'

I want to protest, because I can't see how she could have gotten so much money in such a short time – and because I perfectly know a dinner for two here costs almost two thirds of my paycheck. But on the other hand, I know it would hurt her if I refused her invitation simply because of a money issue. I take her hand with a bright smile when she reaches out for me, and we head for the entrance, where a doorman in an expensive suit greets us and lets us inside. The atmosphere really is particular in here. It's hushed, mostly because of the carpet floor and the beautiful tapestry on the walls, and it's obvious that it's not a restaurant for ordinary people. From where we are standing, we can already spot an old lady with so many diamonds I think she could buy the whole place with her jewelry, and a man with a gold watch and an enormous signet ring sipping snobbishly a glass of wine. I have to admit, I feel a bit out of place, and I'm glad Fang is here to take charge of things.

'I have a reservation, under the name Fang Yun,' she says to the receptionist who immediately starts flipping through the pages of his register.

'Right this way,' he says pompously, and then starts snaking between the tables toward the far end of the spacious room.

He finally shows us our table, and I notice with a smile that there are candles. I smile even more when I realize we're the only ones with candles – I'm sure Fang asked for them just because she knew I'd like some. This is more than perfect. She pulls my chair and helps me settle properly, before sitting opposite me. I know this is not the kind of things you do somewhere so stiff, but I put my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my crossed fingers. Fang looks a bit embarrassed to have nothing to say – she opens and closes her mouth several times before giving up. It seems that she couldn't find any interesting subjects of conversation in the car, in the end. I don't mind, because the silence isn't as dreadful as I expected it to be. I just look at her and think of how lucky I am to be here. She truly looks astoundingly beautiful in the dim light, the flickering flame of one of the candles reflecting in her eyes. I could look at that face for hours and never get bored.

'Hey, sweetheart, what is it?' she suddenly asks, sounding a bit worried, taking the silk handkerchief tucked in her pocket.

'What?' I answer, emerging from my thoughts. 'Nothing, I'm fine.'

'Then why are you crying?' she enquires softly as she brushes the handkerchief on my cheeks.

'Oh, I… Oh…,' I say when I see the tear-stained silk square. 'I guess… You make me happy. I'm happy.'

'Well… It seems that whatever I do, I'll always get you crying, yeah?' she says with a half smile.

'As long as you're here to wipe my tears, I don't mind,' I answer warmly, reaching for her hand. 'Fang, I'd rather weep a few tears when you're in front of me than drown in buckets of them when you're away. Please don't torment yourself with this. I'm totally fine, I just tend to get a bit emotional around you.'

'I'm not tormenting myself,' she answers, brushing the back of my hand with her thumb. 'It's just that I don't like it much when you cry. You know, I've never understood why people cry when they're happy. It's such a mood killer. I think it's corny, and stupid, and… Well, because of you, I've achieved a whole new level of stupidity.'

She turns her head toward the window quickly and takes a deep breath, as if she's trying to control her own tears. But it's too late. They're already running down her cheeks. She immediately wipes them with her handkerchief – the thing will end up soaked – and clears her throat, shifting in her seat. I think this is the third time I've fallen head over heels for her tonight. Everything she does, everything she says is just irrepressibly adorable and lovable. This is a brand new side of her that I've never seen before. The more I get to know her, the more I love her. This is unbelievable.

She sighs heavily and finally dares to look back at me, a sketch of a smile on her face. She's obviously ashamed of her reaction, and all I want to do right now is give her a tight hug. The hug will have to wait, though, as the waiter finally comes to give us the menu and the wine list, and takes out a silver pen and his notepad, waiting for our order. My eyes wander on the starters, and I bite the inside of my cheek when I see the astronomical prices – if someone had told me a mushroom rolled in a salad leaf could cost this much, I would never have believed them . I kick Fang discreetly under the table and try to hide my mouth as best as I can as I move my lips. No starters, I articulate distinctly, and, thank Etro, she gets it quickly enough and doesn't protest.

Her eyes go back to the list, and I suppress a laugh when I realize she is staring at what's on the menu, as if she has no idea what the words mean. It's true that the names of the dishes are rather awkward – just like in any high-class restaurant – but we can still more or less easily guess the ingredients. She's just not used to the names we have here on Cocoon.

'I'll have your best meat,' she finally says after a minute of deep-thinking. 'I leave the choice of the wine to you.'

'And I'll have this,' I tell him, pointing to the third option on the list – I actually have no idea how to pronounce it, but I'm sure it's some kind of fish.

'As you are taking meat and fish, should I choose a red or white wine?' the waiter politely asks, taking back the menus.

'Why, both of course,' Fang answers, leaning back in her chair. 'You can't possibly drink white wine with meat, and vice versa.'

I lift my eyes to the sky as the waiter nods and leaves us. I take back what I said before: this is actually going to cost a whole paycheck. I keep my mouth shut, though, as she already has accepted not to take any starters. She really doesn't seem to understand the value of things and I'm sure she has no idea of what the numbers mean, but it doesn't matter. She looks too happy to do it for me to stop her. I trust her. And, if need be, I'll give back the money to whoever's lending it later. After some time, our plates finally arrive, and I'm quite surprised to find out the dishes are actually rather copious. Follow the two bottles of wine that the waiter uncork before us. He pours some in Fang's glass, and I have to disguise my laugh into a series of discreet coughs when she pretends to be the perfect expert, and starts commenting the color and the smell with an appreciative look. She then tastes it, declare herself satisfied, and the waiter finally fills her glass. He does the same for me, but I don't waste time smelling and tasting – given the price of the bottle, it just has to be good.

'You had no idea what you were doing, right?' I ask with a giggle, planting my fork in the small portion of rice.

'Of course not,' she smiles brightly, picking up her knife. 'It is good, though.'

We eat in silence but keep exchanging warm and sparkling looks. The food is excellent, the atmosphere is perfect, and this definitely is the kind of date I was hoping for. She even gets to wipe a dribble of sauce on my chin with her napkin – I know it's lame, but I planned for this to happen. I just wanted to know how far she was willing to push the chivalrous act, and I am not disappointed. Everything is as I wanted it to be. I finish before her, and I watch as she conscientiously chew the enormous piece of meat she's just put into her mouth. I think that's kind of a shame she doesn't take her time, but at least she seems to enjoy it. It's quite fun to look at actually. She swallows the whole mouthful at once and gulps down a bit a wine, and leans back in her chair with a sigh of content.

'That was better than noodles,' she smiles, rubbing her stomach. 'We should come here more often.'

'Yeah, like, once every ten years,' I answer with a grin, folding my napkin next to my plate.

She laughs heartily, drawing the attention of the other customers, but far from being embarrassed, she starts waving at them until they look away. That woman is hopeless – and I love it. After a few minutes, the waiter finally arrives with the list of desserts, and this time Fang has no trouble choosing. She immediately asks for the chocolate ice cream and the strawberries, which of course are accompanied with some miniature cakes. I chose the lemon pie with its crown of orange sugar flowers, and we decline politely when he suggests a liquor to end the dinner. He then takes away our plates and disappears, and that's when Fang starts looking nervous – again. Still nothing horrible or dangerous in sight, though, so what is she up to? She clears her throat several times, smoothes the folds on her jacket, reorganizes the glasses in front of her, folds and unfolds her napkin twice and finally shifts uncomfortably in her seat before she dares to open her mouth.