(from now on, if I make a reference, I'm going to put the name of what I'm referencing in {curly braces})

It took me an hour or so, but ultimately, I decided to just go talk to her. Obviously. I didn't have many other options.

I walked down stairs and knocked on her door. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! The door opened and I was faced with a girl. Not Himegami, though. She was taller, with long purple hair. Probably one of Himegami's roommates.

"Hi there," I said as I started to look down. I like to get a good scan of everyone.

Those can't be real. Those are the biggest breasts I've ever seen. And they have such great form for such a size. They don't look like they sag at all. Focus, me. Back to the task at hand.

Then, I realized something. I wasn't just thinking it. As the final words came together, I realized I was saying all of that out loud.

"I just said that. I just said that out loud. What is with me?" Now, I was just talking and acting without thought. "I just commented that a girl had the biggest, best formed boobs I'd ever seen. Okay, cut. From the top," I said as I closed her door. What was I doing? I paced towards the stairs, then looped back. "Take two. Action."

Knock! Knock! Knock!

She opened the door with a look of sheer befuddlement.

"What… the hell?" she said. I could only shrug.

"Can I talk to Himegami?"

"She's had an emergency at work. Are you the guy who was here earlier with the deep-fried desserts?"

"That is indeed me."

"Okay, Himegami told me that if, for whatever reason, you came by again, to let you in and make you comfortable until she comes back." She stepped back into her apartment.

"Splendid." I followed her in.

"I'm Haruko Amaya."

"Pleased to meet you," I said as I kneeled and kissed her hand. "I'm Nick Omicron."

"Nice to meet you, as well," she said, slightly blushing.

"By the way, how is your last name spelled?"

"A-M-A-Y-A," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

"That's what I thought. Oddly high ratio of vowels to consonants." It's weird how certain things catch my mind.

"Uh… sure… I guess." She paused, "Anyway, have a seat. I'll make you some tea."

"Tea? No, thank you. I don't touch the stuff. It's not too good for you."

"You don't drink tea? How queer." She thought for a moment. "You're not from Japan, are you?"

"No, I'm an American exchange student."

"Oh, that explains the whole kissing my hand thing."

"Yeah, it's an American custom." I fully realize that it isn't, but it doesn't seem that anyone here (Tenbi, not Japan) really knows anything about Americans, nor do they seem interested in learning about us, so I decided to take the opportunity to re-invent myself a bit. If it seems a little too weird, I can say it's an American thing.

"Well, do you want something else to drink?"

"I'm perfectly fine."

She sat down. "So, what happened earlier? I was in my room and I only heard some screaming and a crash."

I filled her in. "Oh, that explains a lot," she said. "When I came out, I was expecting to see Himegami angry with a guy knocked out on the floor. Instead, she was cleaning up a mess. She was oddly… silent. Almost sad. You sound like a sweet and truly wholesome guy. There aren't too many of those around here. I can never tell with that girl, but I think she likes you."

"What? Her. Like me. No, that's crazy."

"I'm not saying she has a crush on you, just that she admires you and maybe would even like to spend a bit more time with you."

"Yeah, I knew what you meant. People usually aren't all together too interested in spending time with me." Something about that must have sounded pretty sad because she gave me a look of pity. In retrospect, it did sound kind of pitiful. It was true, though. I've always had to make the first step towards people. Don't know why. Certainly not because people look up to me and I seem unapproachable. That couldn't be farther from the truth. But back to the story at hand.

"If she didn't like you, why would she seem unhappy?"

"I don't know, maybe she was disappointed that some perfectly good authentic American treats had gone to waste. Maybe she doesn't like people to think less of her, even if they don't mean anything to her. Maybe she cut herself while cleaning up the mess. Maybe she hates sitcom-like misunderstandings. There's a million reasons she could be upset."

"No, she wasn't bleeding and she hates sweets."

"Wait," I interrupted her, "she hates sweets? I wish I'd known that before I went out and bought a deep-fryer and spent all afternoon making her treats and deep-frying them."

"Yeah, but it's the thought that counts. She's the kind of person who appreciates the gesture over the gift itself. Anyway, she doesn't care what anyone thinks and she loves Seinfeld, so those two are out, too. Any other theories?"

I thought for a second. "I guess not."

"Well, then she must likes you, right?"

"I suppose that's the only logical conclusion," I admitted. She seemed content about this. "By the way, it was pretty presumptuous to say she didn't have a crush on me. I might not be much of a looker, but still."

"Well, I mean, I'm- I just- you see," she stuttered about for a little while. Based on her response, I must have sounded deeply hurt.

I let out a giant roar of laughter. "Oh, I jest, I jest. You already said you don't usually get her. Plus, we only met twice and the first started with me touching her breast and the second ended with me calling her a floozy and leaving a mess of desserts and shards of ceramic to clean up. I don't think that's a great basis for a crush to form on." She was surprised at first, then got annoyed at me for messing with her, but ended up amused.