Hello! Sorry for taking so long to update,
but to make up for it, this chronicle is
fairly long. Longer than the other ones
at least. Thanks again to all those sweet
people who emailed me and critiqued. Muchas
gracias! You guys are too good to me! Oh 
yeah, I am currently looking for a *very* 
competent editor, who can be honest but
constructive at the same time. My grammar, 
in simple terms, sucks! So, if anybody is 
seriously interested in taking up the offer, 
please email me. 
 
Dreamwriter_1234@yahoo.com
 
Disclaimer: Hmm, nope, I definitely 
don't own Sailor Moon. But I do
stake this story as my own. 
 
 
Chronicle Three
 
 
 Through my pathetic, nearly sexless years on this planet, 
 
I have collected enough information to put together a thesis on 
 
colors and style. For instance, the infamous black thong equates 
 
to ‘I want to do the horizontal mamba. Now.’ Generally, black 
 
is a very ‘come hither’ shade, it somehow triggers the men’s 
 
caveman instincts. Unfortunately, in my case, the men I dated 
 
were too thick headed, nervous, or plain strange to be coaxed 
 
by black. Or, perhaps, they were too repelled my lacking 
 
strengths to even attempt a seduction. Either is highly 
 
possible. 
 
 “So, what are you trying to say, Serena?” I questioned 
 
myself as I perused my clothing crammed closet. Although I was 
 
certain my closet would explode if I even attempted to shove 
 
in another blouse, I still couldn’t find something suitable to 
 
wear to this date. It was a strange phenomenon.
 
 Perhaps I should explain how I arrived at this dilemma. 
 
The truth be told, I was utterly weary of being the oldest, 
 
surviving member of the Single’s Club. Damn it, all my friends 
 
have departed from the congregation, whether it was through 
 
engagements, proposals, or weddings, steady boyfriends, while I 
 
have remained rooted to my throne of singleness! So...heh...I 
 
decided to close my eyes and trust my ever dependable friend, 
 
Mina. 
 
 
Announcer: If you’re tuning in just now, audience, Serena has 
just reached a new low! Although she swore to never again do such
a thing, she has just agreed to go on a blind date with a pocket 
protected, bespectacled, suspender wearing “nice guy!” The 
preparation of the blind date is sponsored and thanks to the ever
scheming love goddess herself, Mina! Can we get a round of
applause?!
 
 
[The crowd begins to nod off. A lone cricket is heard.]
 
 
 Okay, okay! Maybe I didn’t completely trust Mina, but 
 
based on her performance in the past, she has never given me any 
 
reasons to be confident of her abilities. Last time, the man, who 
 
she claimed would be ‘the One,’ somehow confused my face with 
 
my chest, and chose to leer at my rack for the majority of the 
 
date. It ended with me soundly whacking the grinning pervert 
 
over the head with my trusty purse and shouting, “My eyes are 
 
up here, buddy!” Needless to say, date two was completely out
 
of the question. 
 
 So why this change of heart? To be perfectly honest, 
 
I was growing desperate and she was growing quite insistent of 
 
this mystery man.
 
 
Announcer: And, to top it all, audience, she doesn’t even know
the guy’s name!
 
 
[Still no response for the half asleep audience.]
 
 
 That was a minor detail. I planned on remedying that 
 
right after I figured out if my lipstick color was appropriate. 
 
Pausing at a mirror, I critically inspected my make up, mentally 
 
debating whether or not to change the color of my blush lipstick. 
 
I discovered that the fascinating theory on color and style applied 
 
to lip colors: each shade carried a particular message. No one 
 
else appeared to be very interested in my hypothesis, but there 
 
was a slight possibility of winning the Nobel Prize. This, 
 
glamorous shade was wildly screaming “I’m in desperate need for 
 
anything remotely male,” an implication I wasn’t certain I wanted 
 
to flaunt. 
 
 “No use trying to hide it,” I spoke to my reflection in a 
 
weary voice.
 
 When the doorbell rang, I shrieked, tugged on my freshly 
 
curled mane, and jumped onto my couch. Immediately, I clamped a 
 
trembling hand over my slacken mouth, uncertainty freezing me. 
 
Like the dumbfounded blonde that I am, I gaped at that white gate 
 
to hell, not wanting to face the “pocket protected, bespectacled, 
 
suspender wearing, nice guy” waiting patiently on the other side. 
 
Add to that long list of complimentary adjectives: nameless.
 
 I began that never ending stroll to my white door, the 
 
assumed image of my blind date branded on my mind. After I 
 
quickly recited my long forgotten rosary, I mumbled a prayer 
 
of memory, and turned the knob…
 
 “Nice to meet you, Serena,” a moderately deep voice 
 
greeted me. My eyes quickly swept over the dark haired man, 
 
zooming in for the customary, first date examination. 
 
 
 No glasses…check.
 Dressed casually nice…check. 
 Suspenders (please no!)…double, double check! 
 Pants are worn at a decent level…check. 
 Good-looking…check.
 
 
 His mane was a bit long, but neatly groomed into a 
 
tight ponytail. Being it the first time accompanying a man 
 
who had longer hair than I did, I wasn’t certain how to react.
 
Happy? Surprised? But at least his eyes were politely 
 
remaining above my neckline. Relief surged through my body, 
 
and before I could stop myself, I eagerly shook his extended 
 
hand so heartedly that he stumbled towards me. 
 
 “Heh...sorry,” I apologized, reddening slightly when 
 
he concernedly scrutinized his crushed hand and straightened 
 
his collared shirt. 
 
 
Annoying inner voice: Way to go, Hughes, he probably thinks 
 
you’re a fugitive from the “Nerds and Dorks” circus. 
 
 
 
 “It’s okay, I’m just not used to woman greeting me 
 
with such enthusiasm,” Mr. Nice Guy Without a Name good 
 
naturedly teased. I stupidly smiled back at him while 
 
wracking my brain for his name. 
 
 “Steve!” I triumphantly shouted. My outburst was 
 
so loud and unexpected that he flinched and staggered a 
 
few steps back, a puzzled look officially entering his 
 
chocolate brown eyes.
 
 “W-Who’s Steve??”
 
 
Empire: Strike one!
 
 
 “Uhh…Steve told me that your name was...Seiya!” 
 
Relief relaxed my shoulders as his name finally floated 
 
upon me.
 
 “Who’s Steve?”
 
 “Uhh...,” my computing brain spit out a response, 
 
“a close family friend of Mina’s.” 
 
 “Funny, I never heard of him before,” he nervously 
 
observed. His gaze darted past my shoulders and into my 
 
apartment, searching for evidence that could verify his 
 
growing belief that I was a runaway from the Tokyo clinic. 
 
 
Empire: Strike Two!
 
 
 If my newly named date had sprinted faster than a 
 
speeding bullet away from me, I could have hardly blamed him. 
 
First, I was spurting out appallingly random comments, 
 
giving off the impression that I was the strangest resident 
 
in Tokyo. No wonder I could never steadily date, my odd 
 
behavior scared off all possibilities of finding Mr. Right. 
 
However, tonight, I held Starbucks’ caffeine saturated, 
 
calorie packed drinks completely responsible for my 
 
outlandish behavior. 
 
 “Serena?” Seiya questioned, noticing me fervently bite 
 
my lip at the dreaded thought. Snapping back to reality, I 
 
pasted on a semblance of a smile. I could only imagine the 
 
after-date review conversation between Mina and him. It would 
 
consist of long lost cousins and unexplained outbursts. 
 
 “Oh? I’m sure you’ll meet Cousin Steve soon.” 
 
 “Perhaps I will.”
 
 While my devilish host on my left shoulder proceeded to 
 
climb down and add “Eternally Dateless” to my growing collection 
 
of pins, I decided to gather the remaining grains of sanity by 
 
flashing him a hopefully melting smile and batting my voluminous 
 
eyelashes (thank heavens for Revlon) at him. 
 
 “Sorry, I suppose I just got caught up in the moment. 
 
So where do you plan on taking me tonight?” I deliberately made 
 
my voice ooze sweetness as I locked up my apartment and walked 
 
with him down to the lobby door. I made a mental note to be 
 
careful; I had only one more strike to go before Seiya booted 
 
me off to the nearest insane asylum.
 
 “How does Kushiro’s Café sound?” he politely proposed, 
 
not even hesitating to open the door for me. I breathed an 
 
internal sigh of relief, at least Mina emerged from her dense 
 
cloud of blondeness to chose a gentleman for me. My dear, but
 
ditzy, friend had her brief moments of stark brilliance. 
 
 “Sounds great to me.”
 
 
Two hours later...
 
 “Well, Mina certainly didn’t lie. You’re a very 
 
beautiful woman,” complimented my date. I caught myself mid 
 
snore and roused from my little nap. Rubbing my tired eyes, 
 
I smiled drowsily at Seiya and murmured a half hearted 
 
“thanks.” 
 
 “Your eyes are red.”
 
 “Allergy season. It’s terrible right now,” I reasoned, 
 
coughing for the full effect. He was much too of a “nice guy” 
 
for me to actually blurt out that I didn’t need eye drops, but 
 
a man who knew how to talk about other topics besides his droll 
 
life. 
 
 “That’s horrible.”
 
 “Tell me about it!”
 
 “Speaking of allergies, I remember one instance of when 
 
I treated a woman who was horribly allergic to something inside 
 
her house, but the problem was that the family could not figure 
 
out what it was! It was quite a dilemma.”
 
 “I’m sure it was,” I politely commented while toying with 
 
my napkin.
 
 “Aren’t you curious to find out what she was allergic to?”
 
 “Quite, please finish with your story,” I nodded, while 
 
adding in my head, ‘before I die of complete and utter boredom.’
 
 “It turned out that there was a specific chemical in her 
 
husband’s cologne that triggered her allergies. Can you believe 
 
that? The reason was beneath her very nose the entire time. 
 
We shared a good laugh about it, the thought still makes me smile 
 
from time to time,” Seiya chuckled, actually slapping his knee 
 
as he clearly tried to stifle a rising chuckle. 
 
 During this amazingly interesting and hilarious tale, I 
 
had begun to practice my origami with my stained, linen napkin. 
 
The swan’s wing needed one more fold by the time story hour was 
 
finished, and it would remain unfinished until he remembered 
 
another brilliant adventure he participated in. Pausing in mid-
 
fold, I noted his hopeful expression and fumbled for an appropriate 
 
answer. 
 
 
Serena’s Brain: Uhh…what did he just say?
 
 
 Damn it! I forced myself to think quickly, every second 
 
ticking by chipped away at his disintegrating ego. 
 
 “You don’t say!” I exclaimed through my plastered on smile. 
 
In between the origami sessions, I had only picked up bits and 
 
pieces of allergies and cologne. Everything else was swallowed up 
 
in my cloud of boredom.
 
 My shoulders visibly relaxed when he nodded his head in 
 
accordance, obviously agreeing with my blind remark. I couldn’t 
 
help but feel guilty over the fact that I was acting like a very 
 
bad, ungrateful date, but the man’s idea of excitement was just as 
 
appealing to me as playing a twelfth game of Scrabble on a beckoning, 
 
Saturday night. 
 
 “I see you have a talent for origami,” he noted, nodding 
 
at my swan.
 
  “Uh...yeah, it’s a gift for you!” I nodded vigorously, shoving 
 
it into his palm. A faint smile touched his generous lips as he 
 
inspected the neat folds.
 
 “Thank you. Origami is such a beautiful part of the 
 
Japanese culture.”
 
 “Yes, it is.” 
 
 “So….”
 
 “So….” I uneasily trailed, twirling my golden locks. 
 
 
Serena’s Spider Senses: Warning! The pace of the date is 
 
reducing at alarming rates.
 
 
 The date had arrived to that disastrous moment of 
 
finding something to say, diminishing our conversation to that 
 
uneasy word “so.” Desperately searching for some sort of 
 
exciting distraction, I was tempted to dunk my head in my half 
 
eaten shrimp Alfredo. With a bit of luck, the cheesy noodles 
 
could hide my rising feeling of hopelessness. There must be 
 
something wrong with me, whether it is physically or mentally. 
 
I was beginning to believe perhaps a bit of both. 
 
 
Case Number: 4051
Patient: Hughes, Serena
Diagnosis: Patient is diagnosed with the disease of 
incapability to find Mr. Right.
Description: Patient has eerily oversized hips, a mouth 
that spurts out wrong answers, and table manners that’d appall 
a wild beast.
Cure: A big, fat INCURABLE
Reaction: Patient burst into self wallowing tears and 
promptly demanded that chocolate mouse be readily available.
 
 
 “Why don’t we just head home?” 
 
 “So early?”
 
 “I...have to be at work earlier tomorrow.”
 
 “Of course, I wouldn’t want to be the reason for your 
 
tardiness,” he flashed me another lop sided smile, which 
 
unfortunately, did not make my heart skip a beat or even flutter. 
 
I allowed him to pull out my chair and assist me into my sheer, 
 
spring jacket. At least chivalry wasn’t completely dead…
 
 
 
 Back at my apartment, I endured the most awkward moments 
 
of, not traditional silence, but noise. Seiya would crack one of 
 
those corny knee-slappers, and gaze at me so expectantly that I 
 
was forced to convulse into ultra-fake laughter. It was a sad 
 
sight. 
 
 “I enjoyed tonight, Serena,” he smiled. 
 
 “Thank you, Seiya. You were a good date.”
 
 Like two teenagers, we stood, me, distractedly tapping my 
 
purse against the wall, while he searched for another knee slapper 
 
of a joke. For my collapsing sanity, I prayed for the night to end 
 
before he busted out another fabulous, medical dventure. 
 
 “Can I be honest with you?” I divulged suddenly. 
 
 “Sure.”
 
 “I don’t think we hit it off,” I heard my blabbering mouth 
 
declare. Upon seeing him blink back his emotions, I continued, 
 
“You have good looks, you’re clearly intelligent, you tell good 
 
jokes (I had to save a bit of his dying ego), but the connection 
 
just wasn’t there.”
 
 “I guessed that,” sighed Seiya, his lop sided smile flipped 
 
upside down. 
 
 “Please don’t take it the wrong way.”
 
 “I’m a grown man, Serena; I understand that our chemistry 
 
just wasn’t balanced.” There it was again, another reference to 
 
that damn subject I never fully grasped. Once my ancient professor 
 
began broaching ionization, I was utterly lost in a soup full of 
 
confusing definitions. 
 
 “It’s just that, at this age, I want to be sure I’m dating 
 
someone who I’d seriously consider committing to.”
 
 “Of course.”
 
 I was about to explain an article I read in Cosmopolitan 
 
on the growing difficulty of women to find ‘the One’ once they 
 
climbed that landmark called thirty, but I settled on helplessly 
 
offering, “Maybe we could be--.”
 
 “Before the conversation gets worse, let’s end the night. 
 
Good night, Serena,” he placed a quick peck on my turned cheek. 
 
I nodded silently, and was about to retreat into my apartment when 
 
he spoke again.
 
 “You really are a special lady. I hope you find the right 
 
man.”
 
 I watched Seiya until he disappeared down the steps, 
 
desperately wishing that he was Mr. Right so this idiotic quest 
 
would be over, and I could finally snuggle with somebody in bed. 
 
With an impatient sigh, I trudged back into my haven, wishing for 
 
a faceless man to warmly embrace me and ask me the usual questions: 
 
how work was today, how offensive my boss was, etc. Instead, 
 
a dimly lit living room welcomed my exhausted presence. 
 
 Looking around, I murmured, “Me too.”
 
 
Empire: Strike Three!
 
 
 It appeared that my pitiful life would consist of another 
 
long, dateless year. I made an extra effort to contain rambunctious 
 
shouts of jubilance. Whoopee. 
 
 
 
The next day...
 
 “So, what did you think about Seiya?” sang Mina, her sunny 
 
deposition nearly blinding me. I had been dreading this moment since
 
the moment I entered the Crown Arcade. 
 
 Taking a deep breath, I trailed uncertainly, “He was cute....” 
 
 “But what?”
 
 “He had long hair.”
 
 “And that’s a bad thing, I’m assuming?”
 
 “Well...I would never rule out a guy with long hair, but 
 
I prefer men with shorter hair.”
 
 “But he was cute,” my fair friend reinstated determinedly. 
 
Seeing that fierce, mother hen glint in her cobalt eyes, I gulped 
 
back my fright and vigorously bobbed my head. 
 
 “So how did the date go?” politely inquired Ami as she 
 
daintily wiped her mouth. 
 
 “Well, aside from enduring the most terrible jokes and 
 
occasional napping, it went fairly well.”
 
 “I’m guessing it didn’t make it to the bed,” dryly 
 
commented Lita.
 
 “Hell, it barely made it to my door.”
 
 “Good going, love goddess Mina.”
 
 “Hey! Seiya is a sincerely, nice guy, and that’s exactly 
 
what Serena told me she wanted. You did let him down gently, 
 
right?” she turned towards me, her earnest blue eyes making me 
 
feel uglier and meaner than the Wicked Witch of the East. 
 
 “Uhh…”
 
 “Serena! What did you tell him?”
 
 “I told him we didn’t hit off.”
 
 “You told him that!” balked Mina, the color slowly 
 
draining from her tan face as she gaped at me. It was amazing 
 
how one rude comment could reverse all those expensive hours 
 
spent frying her skin. 
 
 “That’s my girl!” Rei proudly piped up through a mouthful 
 
of pasta, patting me on the back as she shoved another spoonful 
 
into the crevice she called a mouth. 
 
 “I had to! I couldn’t lead the man on, honestly!”
 
 “But did you have to say that?”
 
 “I did offer to be friends...,” I helplessly offered.
 
 “You did what?!”
 
 Had I just cursed her entire line of ancestors in Japanese 
 
instead of answering the question? Cautiously, I replayed the 
 
previous conversation in my mind. Nope, I had said...
 
 “I offered to be friends.”
 
 “I heard you the first time!” the not-so jolly red monster 
 
reared her golden head. I shrank against Lita, burying my head into 
 
her comfortable shoulder.
 
 “But he cut me off before I could!”
 
 “Of course he did, he had to salvage his dignity somehow!” 
 
 “Did I break some sacred dating rule by offering that?” 
 
Lita patted my head empathetically, but was too intimidated by that 
 
fact that Mina’s face exactly matched the color of her flaming 
 
scarlet bow to interject. Or perhaps it was that frightening 
 
manner she pointed her fork at me. 
 
 “I’m afraid so,” sighed Ami, her crystal blue eyes filled 
 
with sympathy. I scratched my head. How in the world did a woman, 
 
who spent her entire life engrossed with dusty textbooks, 
 
have more knowledge about these useless, unspoken laws? 
 
 
Note to Self: Ransack the library for tips on what NOT to say 
 
to a man when rejecting him. 
 
 
 “I hate rules, I hate men, and most of all, I hate being 
 
single!” I shouted as I rose to my seat and, for the theatrical 
 
effects, threw my fork at my plate. The girls stared blankly, 
 
mentally debating whether to crawl under the table or just slyly 
 
slink away from the berserk blonde. For countless centuries 
 
(so it seemed), I had renewed my membership at the Singles Club,
 
Spinster’s Anonymous, and, let’s not forget, the Lonely Hearts 
 
Alliance and damn it, that act was exhausting and embarrassing. 
 
 “What’s wrong with me?!” 
 
 “For starters, screaming in the middle of a restaurant is 
 
a bit eccentric,” to my left, an amused voice declared. I should 
 
have guessed that, once again, Darien’s internal radar managed 
 
to pinpoint and hone in on another of my dramatic tantrums. At 
 
that moment, as I turned to confront the ultra-sexy businessman 
 
beside me, I decided that all fits and screaming would be limited 
 
to the privacy of my own home. 
 
 “I’m beginning to think that maybe I should get a restraining 
 
order on you.”
 
 “I’m not so sure about that, I’m not the one throwing my 
 
utensils across the room,” my archenemy pointed out, slanting 
 
me a breathtaking grin. Of course, the scoundrel was perfectly
 
groomed and donned a specially tailored, charcoal suit. His dusky 
 
cobalt eyes were lazily alternating between my pursed lips and eyes. 
 
 “Beat it, Langston.”
 
 “And miss another of our infamous bickers? Never, Hughes.” 
 
To my starry eyed friends: “Hello, ladies, I hope you’re doing well 
 
today.” They replied with their warm smiles and batting eyelashes, 
 
much to my annoyance. Although he was an official ignoramus, 
 
(I know he had the certificate to prove it) Darien always managed 
 
to charm and dazzle the susceptible victims of the weaker sex. 
 
I, on the other hand, saw him for what he truly was: a fancily 
 
dressed bastard. 
 
 “Darien, please, take a seat beside me,” Rei suggested, 
 
patting her empty seat with a sly expression on her perfectly 
 
beautiful face. He complied, wrapping an all-too friendly arm 
 
around her shoulders. I squashed that irritating green dragon 
 
trying to rear its ugly head, after all, the two had already seen 
 
each other naked numerous times. It was ludicrous to feel 
 
jealous, even if the pair made an outrageously gorgeous couple 
 
with Rei’s glossy, raven mane and compelling violet eyes and 
 
ignoramus’ jet black hair and arresting blue eyes. 
 
 As I sat, err, stood there, hatefully glaring at my 
 
adversity, Rei tossed her silk strands and flashed him what we 
 
girls nicknamed the “Southern Belle” smile. The woman perfected 
 
every twitch to a point that she could melt an iceberg if she 
 
chose to. Inject sigh. If only I could filch the smallest bit 
 
of her sexual aura, I would be content. 
 
 Meanwhile, Darien, sprawled languidly like a panther, 
 
gazed at me so disconcertingly hotly that I, like the silly 
 
schoolgirl that I am, blushed and narrowed my eyes to slits. 
 
My breath caught in my throat when his eyes slowly slid down 
 
my body, studying my breasts, which were ridiculously round 
 
for my petite self, my waist (which I believed was thickening 
 
by the second), and my flaring hips. As my nails dug into 
 
my palms, he, just as slowly, returned to my red face, and 
 
smiled sexily. 
 
 I hated Darien.
 
 Yes, it was as simple as that. The man teased me so 
 
unmercifully, completing aware of how traitorous and hormone 
 
driven my mind and body were. 
 
 “We girls came to the conclusion that Serena and you 
 
would make a splendid couple,” purred Rei, winking at my 
 
bewildered expression.
 
 
Note to Self 2: Chop off Rei’s lovely black locks. Then
wave the severed tresses in her face. 
 
 
 My own best friend was scheming against me, and worst, 
 
she was in league with the enemy!
 
 “Is that so?” lazily drawled Darien, still not taking 
 
his eyes off of me. Through Morse Code, I blinked to Rei that 
 
her life would end shortly. In the face of death, she smiled 
 
triumphantly, as if happy over this horrible betrayal. 
 
Helplessly, I turned to my other friends, but they only began 
 
to share their much unwanted input on what a grand idea it was. 
 
I began to believe those familiar faces hid truly evil aliens, 
 
intent on destroying any shred of dignity of mine. 
 
 “You will kindly discard that comment, and all the others. 
 
Rei is just going through an early life crisis and wants to know 
 
how it feels to brave death.”
 
 “I’m feeling quite well, thank you.”
 
 “Shut up, Rei.”
 
 “I’m not much for matchmaking, (I actually snorted at this) 
 
but I have to agree,” airily added Mina, stirring her brewed tea 
 
with a scheming twinkle in her eyes. 
 
 I decided that my flaxen haired friend would do nicely 
 
with a freshly shaved head.
 
 “When hell freezes over!” 
 
 “I suppose I should watch out for that soon, because we 
 
already arranged for your date,” serenely informed Ami, and instantly 
 
I began picturing her with a shortly cropped buzz. 
 
 “Come again...?”
 
 “That’s right, since you decided not to follow our advice, 
 
we decided to follow our advice for you. We managed to book two, 
 
very expensive tickets, to see the Nutcracker,” my last hope,
 
Lita, briskly related.
 
 “And exactly how can you justify taking these liberties?”
 
 “Simple, your friends are always right, no matter how much 
 
you whine, complain, and bitch,” Mina calmly explained while 
 
drizzling more dressing over her Caesar salad. 
 
 It was time for a different approach. “I don’t like 
 
ballets.”
 
 “Bunch of bull, Serena, and I know it. You were as happy 
 
as a kid on Halloween when you heard that the Nutcracker was 
 
playing at the Tokyo Ballet Academy.”
 
 Damn. “Well, I refuse to see it with him!”
 
 “Oh, stop being such an old fogey!” 
 
 I was truly shocked at Rei's exasperated statement! Being
 
twenty nine did not make me an 'old fogey!' Or did it? 
 
 “Can I speak with Serena for a moment?” politely questioned 
 
Darien. Without waiting for anybody’s consent, especially mine, 
 
he grabbed my arm and dragged my cursing, spitting fire self 
 
outside. Once again, the Arcade was blessed with another interesting 
 
scene; I’d hate to even consider the manager’s opinion of me. As I 
 
called the bastard every obscenity in the book, not to mention some 
 
that I created, he led me to an abandoned alley and finally released 
 
me.
 
 “Get away from me, you creep! I don’t want to talk!” I 
 
bellowed while nervously inching away from him. The towering giant 
 
was slowing meandering over to me. There was an intense, clearly 
 
lustful, heat in his darkening gaze, a frightening scowl replacing 
 
his poised smile. I gasped as he pressed me into the brick wall, 
 
allowing me to feel every inch of his gloriously hard body. One 
 
hand tipped my chin up, forcing me stare at his handsome, but 
 
enraged face. His mouth descended, but I defiantly turned my 
 
head away to evade his kiss. I felt deep chuckles rumble within 
 
his chest, which, might I add, was tightly pressed against my 
 
flattened breasts. 
 
 Clearly, he found my rejection a source of laughter. I 
 
could have easily castrated the gorgeous seducer/womanizer, had I 
 
not been trapped against the wall. Damn wall...damn man.
 
 “Neither do I,” his lips sensually moved against stubborn 
 
jaw, just skimming over my parted lips. Heat began to build at 
 
that center of stomach, weakening my resolve to damage his 
 
precious manhood. I settled for a nice, stinging slap across 
 
his rugged face. 
 
 My daydreams of calculating his painful death were 
 
immediately interrupted when he pressed a hot, wet kiss against 
 
the curve of my neck. I garbled something embarrassingly 
 
incoherent, encouragement to the jerk’s ears. His tongue licked 
 
at my flushed skin, each flick adding more heat churning at the 
 
center of my stomach. I reveled when his entire body stiffened 
 
when I luxuriously ground against his arousal. 
 
 “Darien,” my breathy voice whispered. My head turned 
 
to meet his, my lips desperate to receive that kiss I rejected. 
 
When he continued to suck at my neck, I managed to wrap my hands 
 
around his neck and impatiently tugged at his thick locks. 
 
Feeling his lips curve into a triumphant smirk, I arched against 
 
him again.
 
 “Damn it, Serena, knock that off,” his hoarse voice 
 
cautioned me.
 
 “Knock off what?”
 
 “Don’t act so innocent, you know exactly what you’re 
 
doing.”
 
 “Well, maybe if you got off of me, we wouldn’t even be 
 
having this discussion!” I began to collect my threadbare dignity, 
 
piece by piece. It was pathetic that I had surrendered so easily, 
 
without a fight. 
 
 
Serena’s dignity: 0
Darien’s ego: 1000
 
 
 “Maybe if you closed your mouth for just a second, you’d 
 
realize you’re denying yourself.
 
 “Please, get over yourself, buddy.” I tried to crane my 
 
head back to challenge him, but my head bumped against the crumbling 
 
brick wall. I settled on staring angrily at his broad chest, 
 
which, I later discovered, was an unwise choice because soon my 
 
fingers inched to unbutton his collared shirt and run my hands 
 
across his hard body. 
 
 “Oh, so you weren’t enjoying what just happened between us 
 
the tiniest bit?” Darien grinned lazily, brushing the pad of his 
 
thumb across my cheekbones. 
 
 “I enjoyed it as much as a yeast infection,” I spat back, 
 
hating how traitorous my body was to his touch. Chastely, he 
 
brushed a smile across my frowning lips.
 
 I clamped my mouth shut when his experienced hand caressed 
 
my hip, and then smoothly slip under my delicate pink, sleeveless 
 
tank top. Callused hands stroked the small of my back and toyed 
 
with the clasp of my bra. I lifted narrowed eyes to my seductive 
 
adversity, who was arrogantly grinning at me. 
 
 “Get your hands out of there.”
 
 “Out of where?” he purposefully probed, snapping one strap 
 
playfully.
 
 “Don’t you dare!”
 
 “Don’t I dare do what?” To goad me, his fingers tickled my 
 
rib cage, only a few inches from my heaving chest. I noticeably 
 
gulped, overwhelmed by the heady, lusty sensations as his fingers
 
flitted across my rib cage and finally outlined the cup of my burgundy 
 
bra.
 
 “S...Stop.” 
 
 Grinning like the idiot he was, Darien leaned down to nuzzle 
 
my earlobe, nipping at it playfully. “For a woman who claims to hate 
 
my touch, you seem to respond pretty peculiarly,” each breath brushed 
 
over my ear and sent shivers down my rigid spine. 
  
 “You bastard.”
 
 “I have to admire your spunk, Hughes. But it looks like I 
 
have to go, business meetings for the rest of the afternoon,” easily, 
 
he stepped back and straightened his askew tie and charcoal dress 
 
jacket. Meanwhile, I donated every ounce of strength and steel will 
 
to stop myself from launching into his arms and begging for him to 
 
just finish the damn deed. The scoundrel used his most persuasive 
 
tactics of foreplay just to leave me hot and bothered while he 
 
gloated at his damn meetings of another to-be conquest.
 
 “Shame you’re not attending the ballet. Perhaps another time, 
 
Hughes.”
 
Crack!
 
 
[The half asleep crowd suddenly jolts awake as half crazed blonde 
slaps the calculating jerk sharply across his taut cheek]
 
 
Serena’s dignity: 1
Darien’s ego: 1000
 
 
 Hey, the scores were still laughable, but at least I redeemed 
 
myself somewhat. My enemy’s face remained composed, as if oblivious 
 
to the reddening handprint stamped onto his smooth face. Inwardly, 
 
I did the most ridiculous jig and cartwheel. Very childish, in fact.
 
Outwardly, I followed through on the “absolutely livid” act so thoroughly 
 
that I deserved an Academy.
 
 Eat your heart out, Susan Lucci. 
 
 “You can bring one of your little groupies to that damn 
 
Nutcracker for all I care, Langston!”
 
 “Perfect, because I already had someone in mind.”
 
 
Annoying inner voice: WHAT?! Heh Heh…I mean…fine, whatever.
 
 
 Obviously, the man had slept with numerous women; they were 
 
either attracted to his disarming smile or old money. Certainly not 
 
his oh-so impressive personality, that was for certain. But the idea 
 
still ruffled my feathers, no matter how desperately I tried to squelch
 
that rising jealously. 
 
 “Good, and while you’re at it, give her my sympathy!” snootily, 
 
I brushed past him, deliberately flipping my ponytail into his 
 
expressionless face.
 
 Have I mentioned that I utterly despised Darien Langston?
 
 
Bad Serena: Amen to that!
 
 
 
 That night, I left the most articulate, intelligent message on 
 
Rei’s answering machine. 
 
 
Here is a brief synopsis:
 
 
I stormed into my house, knocking over a precious vase that my mother 
 
had given to me. Like the proud lady that I am, I tossed a pair of 
 
high heels and an ab-slider across the room, which had promised to 
 
tone my six pack of unrelenting flab. Wincing as I heard each item 
 
crash against the wall, I grabbed my cordless telephone and furiously 
 
dialed my former best friend’s phone number.
 
 
Answering machine: Hey, I’m not in right now, but just leave a 
 
brief message, and if I feel like it, I’ll get back to you. Thanks.
 
 
Beep!
 
 
Me: Rei, I am so pissed right now that…I’m just so unbelievably 
 
pissed! How did such a STUPID idea float into that brain of yours?! 
 
I’m so pissed, you…stupid…face! Yeah, that’s right, I just called you 
 
a stupid face! And no, I cannot think of a better insult off the top
 
of my head! You better call back; I don’t care how tired and bitchy 
 
you feel. If I don’t receive a phone call in exactly 2.5 seconds, I 
 
will knock down your door and terrorize those damn birds of yours. 
 
Yes, I will turn those creatures into roasted vultures. And now I’m 
 
running out of threats, so I’m slamming my phone down!
 
 
 And that I did. Had I been in any other situation, I would 
 
have burst out into hysterical laughter. Unfortunately, I was in the 
 
foulest, unapproachable mood. Even if a damn solicitor arrived at my 
 
doorstep offering me a check for one million dollars I’d….well, I’d 
 
grab that check faster than a speeding bullet THEN slam the door in 
 
their face. Hey, I may be furious, but I wasn’t stupid enough to 
 
reject money! Perhaps with that money I would devote an entire 
 
laboratory to creating the perfect lover. 
 
 
News at six o’clock: Same, crazy old maid is spotted roasting crows 
 
in her backyard while arguing with invisible forces on right and left 
 
shoulders. 
 
 
Ooo, the famous couple ALMOST kissed,
but then again, almost doesn't count!
Yes, yes, I'm cruel, but its so fun.
Thanks for all the critiques and emails
everybody, and remember, the editing
favor is for somebody who is seriously
considering handling my horrible grammar
and such. Okay? Thanks!
 
Oh, um, I'm not sure if there really is 
a Tokyo Ballet Academy, I just made that
up. If there is, then that is a strange
coincidence. Anything else...nope, don't
think so.
 
Psst...email, review, email, review. 
 
Dreamwriter_1234@yahoo.com