Turn the Tables
by Thalia
Rating: PG-13
He'd seen her in the library a few times in the past, always with her
cute little nose stuck in a book and a pencil behind an ear. A girl
whose pressed white blouses and navy skirts and sensible shoes bespoke
"prim and proper" more clearly and surely than if she'd had it written
on her forehead. Sometimes joined by a few nubile young female friends
who needed help with homework, almost never accompanied by a male. The
perfect little wallflower, the sort of girl that the guys passed by
unless they took a closer look.
He'd also known her reputation: one of his friends was in her advanced
cell bio class, and it seemed that Jadeite's dearest ambition had been
to score a seat next to the grade-curve-killing Ami Mizuno all term. Of
course, Jadeite could also have studied, which probably would've worked
better than attempting to cheat off the class genius what with essay
exams, but Jadeite was not always known for logical actions.
He hadn't paid too much attention to her until the last term, when she
sat down next to him obliviously in the library computer lab and started
typing away at some report or another, and Zoisite, bored with the
thirty-page Constitutional Law analysis he'd been hammering away at for
the last hour and a half, had sat back and decided to look for a more
interesting subject to study.
His eyes had settled on Ami Mizuno.
For a shy little thing, she was rather pretty, all fine-boned hands and
rosy lips and pool-blue eyes lit up with a genuine love of learning.
Hers was a delicate, pure sort of beauty, like a poet's muse or an
artist's model. Nothing brash or bold about her, and amusedly, he
wondered if she'd run and hide if he started staring.
"Is my report that interesting that you need to read it over my
shoulder?" A musical voice interrupted his thoughts, and he belatedly
realized that the girl was addressing him. "I'll email it to you after
I'm done if you'd like."
He raised an eyebrow at that, just a little bit surprised. He could have
sworn that Jadeite had called Ami Mizuno a shrinking violet-- someone
who'd practically break out in hives if someone so much as wrote her a
sappy email. But of course, he recovered quickly, giving her a little-boy
smile that melts the most curmudgeonly of hearts. "Just enjoying my
view," he said cheekily. "What's your sign, cutie?" Of course he knew it
was a lame line, but the point was to fluster her now. Seduction comes
later when it's easier.
So he nearly fell out of his seat when she, with a very un-prim sort of
smirk, replied to his question with a cool, "Proceed with Caution."
And then she turned back to her report and it's as though they had never
spoken at all.
Two hours later, when the library was closing and his Con Law analysis
was still nowhere near done, he started an adroit "get to know you"
conversation with her and she answered his questions with a strange,
indulgent acquiescence. She was polite and clever and used gentle,
perfect diction, but there was the unexpected edge. He meets her eyes,
and in the tranquil gaze was a glint of awareness, as though she knew
exactly what he was trying to do.
"Say, would you like to study together sometime?" he asked her with the
perfect amount of casualness. "Here's my number... what's yours?"
She gave it, but quirked her eyebrows. "You know, if that's what you
wanted to know from the beginning, you could have just asked for it,
straight out. The shortest distance between two points is always the
straight line, isn't it?" And then she picked up her bookbag and her
printed report and left without a backward glance.
Zoisite found himself fascinated without knowing QUITE how it happened.
~*~
Actually, it was pretty simple, if he had only thought to ask his
roommate's girlfriend about it. Kunzite's charming little blonde was one
of Ami's friends, though of course he didn't know that. It had been
decided, between Ami and four of her closest friends, that in her last
term of undergrad and after two terribly proper, terribly boring
relationships, she needed to let loose a bit. Learn how to respond to
flirtation. Perhaps even have a fling, because she was going to go to
medical school and then it'd be all work and no play for YEARS, so why
not make the last term count?
It had taken a while and more than a few tips from Minako and Makoto
before she got used to the idea, but strangely, she found that she liked
it. Wasn't an intelligent woman supposed to be proud of herself and her
femininity, and able to hold her own against any man she faced?
By the time she met Zoisite in the library computer lab, she had already
grown into her new confidence like a new pair of running shoes.
~*~
But Zoisite had no idea, and therefore, it was easier and yet more
difficult than expected to get to know the lovely Ami Mizuno. She never
shrank from his flirtation, and eyed him with a sort of shrewd
affection. They sat together in many places-- the library, the mall food
court, a local coffee shop-- and talked about anything and everything,
and it felt rather foreign to do the ladies' man act around someone who
knew exactly what he was up to. It was almost like a duel in a way, with
her parrying his every strike forward. She still remained terribly
polite and wonderfully courteous and intelligent, but the occasional
witticism that delicately punctured his ego with scalpel accuracy
reminded him to keep on his toes.
She was rapidly turning out to be the most intriguing conquest he'd ever
attempted. The crackling attraction, of course, complicated things just
a bit.
And yet, capriciously, time continued to fly, and the term ended in a
blaze of summer glory. He had planned to seduce her at its conclusion, a
notch on his belt-- a cherished dream of several months. The day was
theirs, and they met at their usual table in the mall.
She looked absolutely beautiful in her casual shirt and sandals, and the
long legs being displayed by denim shorts could have been sculpted from
perfect marble. He would leave tomorrow, and so today was theirs to
share. It would be his last chance.
He bought them iced coffees and sandwiches and they talked of everything
under the sun, jumping from topic to topic with the ease of intelligent
friendship-- but she was supposed to be a conquest, and in the back of
his mind, he somehow knew that he'd been fooling himself thinking that.
But there's no time to reflect on that thought, because today was the
last day.
The afternoon faded into a golden, balmy evening, and they share a
dinner in the same food court, as they casually discussed relationships
they'd had and she jokingly called him a shameless Lothario for breaking
all those hearts. He wasn't ever ashamed of it, that was true enough. No
strings attached-- the best way to go for youth, but increasingly, the
idea of adding her to the list of the broken-hearted makes him cringe
and feel tiny.
"Oh, it's getting late," she murmured after dinner, as the skies started
to darken and the winds picked up slightly. "You're leaving tomorrow...
you should get home and get some rest, Zoi."
~*~
And it's on the tip of his tongue to invite her back, take advantage of
her strange acceptance of his flirtation for the last few months...
but he can't. He remains silent and stares at her unabashedly, like that
first evening in the library computer lab, and he'd laugh at himself and
his sappiness if it weren't for the fact that this-- this was the end.
A fling. That's what he does, isn't it?
"I'll walk you to the bus stop," he says at last, his voice quiet. She
nods, and they pick up after their napkins and trash and leave the mall
behind.
He keeps his arm around her from the mall to the bus stop, and stays
mostly silent. The bus arrives within a few moments, and she smiles--
the sort of smile that he'd have associated with Ami Mizuno before he
got tangled up in her-- it's sad and sweet and faint and fleeting, and
then she leans up to kiss his cheek. "I had fun today... take care,
all right?"
The bus driver is waiting expectantly for her to get on, and he knows
that he's not going to be taking her home tonight. He can't do it, and
he isn't ready to face the reasoning behind that. But he can't just let
her go with that, either. "Stay for just a bit?" he asks, his voice
genuine and almost meek, and she does. The bus drives off, and she turns
to him to make another comment about the day.
And he reaches out and slides a strand of perfect blue-black hair behind
her ear and cups her head with his hand, and then he's kissing her lips
like he'd kissed many other girls before, but it feels like the first
time with her. He wasn't completely wrong about her-- there IS something
pure and delicate and poetic about her-- about THIS. She doesn't resist
or pull away, and after a moment, she lifts one of those slim, fine-boned
hands to cup his cheek, and her touch is all it takes for him to pull
her flush against him and deepen the kiss, pouring his soul into it.
She tastes like sweet coffee and innocence and peppermint drops, and
he'll never forget that taste.
Another bus has arrived by the time he finally pulls away from her,
green eyes dark with unfamiliar emotion. Carefully, he traces the
fingertips of one hand over her features, gliding over cheeks and eyes
and brows as though trying to memorize her, and finally his fingers land
on her lips, swollen and tender from his kisses. "Promise you'll call
me, Ami," he whispers urgently. "Promise you'll not lose touch."
It's not something he ever did. If anything, he is the one to promise to
call and never keep the promise, because it didn't matter and he didn't
"commit". She, clever girl, probably knew that far too well.
But she smiles and reaches up to press one last, light kiss on his lips
before stepping back. "I promise." And then she's disappeared into the
bus, leaving him there, staring as it drives away, wondering how exactly
she managed to turn the tables so thoroughly as he makes his slow way
home. His only comfort is that she's a woman of her word.
~fin
(
geocities.com/wyse_k)