A.N - Yay, new story! I've thrown the fact that I wanted to be more mature with my writing out the window and came up with this. xD

Hope you like.

This is for Emily, who has disappeared on me, AGAIN. She came online long enough to approve of the title though. Thank you, Millie.

Disclaimer: Meg Cabot is the proud owner of everything. This story isn't meant to infringe on anybody's rights, merely to entertain. Hopefully.

One

"Nice try. Read the nametag, buddy."

The man was practically a stalker, I decided. He was here every day. And it always seemed to be on my shift.

So what if he was tall, tanned and so unbelievably good-looking that I found myself picturing him modelling for Calvin Klein? Who cared if his stupid, long, dark hair curled adorably at the nape of his neck and the fashionable – probably designer – clothes he wore fit his body to perfection?

Not me. And, do you know why? Because he was always here, making more work for me.

"Big smile, sugar." My boss reminded me, handing me a pot of coffee and pushing me lightly towards the weird stalker guy. "Remember to be nice."

Forgoing a response, I pasted a smile on my face and pushed my red-streaked, straightened hair back away from my face. Stalker dude smirked into his newspaper as I approached. I felt my eyes narrow at him. "More coffee?" I asked, faking a happy tone.

"Please." Gah. Even his voice was sexy. It was deep, husky and laced with an accented undertone that hinted at Hispanic roots. He gestured towards his empty coffee cup.

"Anything else?" I poured the black coffee generously into the cup. How anybody could drink such a hot beverage in such heat was beyond me. New York in the summertime could be such a drag. Sometimes, during my break, I took a trip to the fridge, just to cool down.

"How about a name?" He set down his newspaper and regarded me interestedly, one deliciously sexy eyebrow rising on his forehead.

"Nice try," I scoffed, wiping my sweaty hand on the apron that came with my uniform. "Read the nametag, buddy."

Smirking again, he looked at me pointedly before his eyes slid down towards my nametag, which I realised, too late, was close to somewhere I did not want him looking. I crossed my arms quickly, watching with fascination as the mystery guy's cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. He obviously had never been that forward before.

"Suze," he managed to choke out from a closed throat. "Short for anything?"

"Nothing that you're going to find out." I turned and walked away from him, not wanting to listen to anything else he had to say.

"I'm Jesse," he shouted after me. "By the way."

"Not interested."

Liar. I scolded myself. I was so interested it wasn't even funny. I mean, look at him. Who wouldn't be? This guy – Jesse – was practically perfect in every way. Undeniably gorgeous, for one. Accent to die for, for another. A body so toned I could picture the six-pack this guy must have underneath his shirt. And, let's just say that I wasn't altogether upset with the picture my mind conjured up.

Reaching the counter, I sighed heavily and put down the pot of fluid, pulling out my hand-dandy notebook and pencil at the same time. "Do I have to go back over there?" I, I'll admit it, whined. "Can't I send someone else?"

"Sorry, darling." My boss was sympathetic, sure, but she didn't do anything to placate me. "It's in your section."

"I have a feeling that he knows that."

My boss chuckled and sent me off with a wave as she turned her attention to another customer. Gritting my teeth, I pushed my lips back into a smile and tapped my pencil against the empty page in front of me. My polyester uniform was sticking to my back as I walked through the thick, humid air towards the recent bane of my existence, who was bent over his precious copy of the New York Post. "Made a decision yet?" I asked.

"Actually," he smiled at me, revealing his perfect white teeth. It was a million times better then the smirk he'd been gracing me with. "I have. Your name is Susannah."

I froze, my earlier fear of this guy being a stalker increasing tenfold as the pencil I'd been pushing against the paper slipped and left an angry looking gash across the page. I felt my eyes widen as I looked at him.

He must have realised what had gotten me so skittish as his cheeks turned crimson again and he glanced down at the newspaper he was holding. "No, no." He insisted. "It's not like that. I swear."

Okay, I freaked even more. Apparently this guy is a mind reader as well.

"After you left," he explained. "I started trying to figure out what 'Suze' could be short for. See?"

He pushed the paper towards me and I looked down at it, hesitantly. On the page was written Susie? Suzanne? Susannah? among others. The guy had been busy, it seemed. My name, though, had been underlined twice, and circled, obviously having been the decision he made.

"Am I right?" He added in a somewhat shy tone.

"Oh." I suppose that that was better then my first thought. "So," I pushed, ignoring his question. "Food?"

"If I order," he insisted, instantly back into his cocky demeanour. "Will you give me your number?"

I smiled widely at him – I was an expert at leading people along. In the two years since my mom had jetted across the country to marry Andy in California, I'd changed. Becoming more confident as boys finally started to notice me. My best friend Gina had helped there, of course. "If you order," I dropped my voice to a whisper, leaning in close to his ear. "I'll give you your food."

Smirking, I stepped back and regarded him coolly. He chuckled.

"Touché." He shook his head. "I had that coming. But, Susannah, I would like to see you again." He smiled up at me, reaching out a hand to take my own. "Outside of this café."

With my free hand, I touched my chest in an, 'aww, I'm touched' gesture, smiling. Really, it was obvious. I don't know how he didn't see it coming.

"I want to know more about you," he continued, obviously thinking he had won me over. I resisted the urge to scoff. He stood up, leaning towards me. His proximity had my breath catching in my throat and my heartbeat racing so quickly it was embarrassing. "I want to know your deepest, darkest secrets."

I gasped, slipping my hand from his grip and sliding it to his chest, pushing him away slightly as I looked up into his deep, dark brown eyes. With my other, I grabbed the cup of – thankfully now cold – coffee I had poured for him earlier. Smiling widely, I batted my eyelashes and raised the cup above his blissfully oblivious head.

"Really?" I asked, feigning breathlessness.

A lazy "mmhmm" had been my only reply and I stood on my tiptoes, waiting until our lips were a hairbreadth apart before I spoke again.

"Tough."

Then, in his dazed state, I pushed him away and poured the full cup of cold liquid over his head, the small droplets matting his hair and trickling across his forehead and down his neck. His white shirt stained brown as a small puddle of coffee formed at his feet.

The café in which I worked – hopefully, I still worked there, after this – went silent. Jesse stood there, arms out in shock as he processed the feel of cold coffee on his skin. I felt a bubble of laughter rise in my chest.

"Susannah Simon!" The laughter was abruptly cut short before it came to life by the loud shouting of my immediate superior, causing me to wince. "Clean that up, now!"

Turning my back on the scene I'd caused and ignoring the looks from the other customers, I walked towards the supply closet. "Gladly," I muttered under my breath.

It wasn't surprising to see that Jesse 'I'm so sure of myself I can pester you for your name and number but can't handle a little bit of coffee' had left. On his table was his empty coffee cup and newspaper. Seeing my name scrawled around the ink, I glanced at the item that had been annoying me all day.

I groaned as I read what was written on the newspaper. A note, to me.

Susannah. Now I have your last name too. I'll be seeing you around. Jesse.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I began cleaning up the mess I made. "You just had to pour the coffee on him Suze," I chastised myself. "Idiot."