When you actually do see him, you're suddenly aware of your hands. What do you normally do with those things when you talk to people anyways? Pockets? Yes, safe zone. Pockets it is. Now, about that look on your face.

Krystal huffed and sat in her usual booth tucked away in the corner of the café.  She the edge of her phone as the nerves started to kick in.  Only half her mind was amused by the fact that the barista had known her order before she had even said it, the rest of her was trying to slow the build up of panic inside her.  It felt like a wave swelling in her chest, slowly getting bigger with every second that ticked by.  How was she supposed to greet Isobel? Does she go in for a kiss? Wait.  Is that too weird?

Cold fingers covered her eyes.  They were freezing, but soft.  Krystal jerked a little, but the perfume from the person behind her was familiar.  A small smile played across her lips.

“Knock knock,” Isobel whispered in her ear.

“Who’s there?” Krystal asked amused.

“I missed.”

“I missed who?”

“No,”—Isobel removed her hands and lay them on her shoulders.  Krystal blinked at the lights for a second before focusing on how close Isobel’s face was to hers.  The older girl was leaned over her shoulder, her nose almost bumping hers—“I missed you.”

Krystal’s grin couldn’t have gotten bigger if she’d tried.  Every worry melted away as the same fluttery, but welcome, feelings associate with Isobel came back.  She leaned forward that last centimeter peck Isobel’s lips.  The taste of her cherry lip gloss was as delicious as it was the first time they’d kissed.

“Hey,” Krystal whispered shyly.

“Hey,” Isobel smiled and pecked her lips in return.  She walked around the booth and sat across the table.

Krystal discretely wiped her sweaty hands on the side of her ripped denim jeans, then promptly forgot what to with them. Where do my hands even go?!?!?  Pockets, duh. Pockets are safe.  She stuffed them in the pockets of her jeans, but realized that was even stupider.  Her hands barely fit in the little pockets of her jeans, and her seated position wasn’t exactly call for casual stuffing of hands in pockets!  With a mental facepalm, she took them out and placed them on the table.

Isobel raised an eyebrow, but merely asked, “Can I get you anything to eat?”

The singer wrapped her hands around the cooling cup of black coffee to give them something non-awkward to do.  She giggled, “You sound like a host.”

“Oh yeah?” Isobel stood up with impeccable posture, one behind her back and another in front, as though she was a waiter in a top-notch restaurant, “Would the young madam care for any foods to go with her beverage?”

The youngest Jung lost it at the fake posh accent Isobel adopted.  Laughter bubbled up like a soda of amusement and burst out loudly.  She clapped her hands like a seal and Isobel grinned.  Isobel scooted into Krystal’s side of the booth so that they sat side by side.

“Or maybe a talk show host?” Isobel pretended to hold an imaginary microphone, “Miss Krystal, welcome to the Café Show.”

Krystal mimed holding her own microphone and bowed a little, “I’m very excited to be here.”

“I’m glad to have you here,” Isobel winked and pretended to read from imaginary cue cards, “Were going to start with a game. Do you like games?”

“It depends on what kind of game,” Krystal flipped her hair and bit her lip, flirting right back with her ‘host’.

“It’s the Random Questions Game!” Isobel slung her arm on the back of their booth, not quite touching Krystal, but enough that she was conscious every arm movement, “We each ask random questions and the other must answer honestly.”

“Mwoya!” Krystal swatted Isobel’s shoulder, now a little worried about what she had in mind.

“Would you rather have a night out or a night chilling at home?”

That calmed her down a little, she could take questions like that.  Krystal told her that as long they did something fun and she got to do it with others she cared for, she didn’t mind either way. 

“Me too,” Isobel said, “I usually like going out, but that’s mostly because I live alone.”

They continued on with their back and forth questions.  Isobel learnt that Krystal loved mangoes, was allergic to apples, but ate them anyway.  She liked simple basic colours, like black and white.  Krystal found that Isobel was an only child, she was a huge Harry Potter fan and had majored in Science and Mathematics during university.

“Okay,” Krystal boldly shuffled closer, if Isobel lowered her arm from the back of the booth it would fall across her shoulders, “Why do you go to INCOGNITO instead of just a regular club?”

Isobel raised an eyebrow and smirked a little.  She shuffled just that little bit closer till their sides were pressed close together, from their knees, up their leg and straight to their shoulders, “Practicality and Family.”

Krystal frowned.  This was the first cryptic answer to any question they had asked.  Even when asked about how girls she had dated Isobel had answered very upfront.  (Seven, by the way).  Krystal lay her head on Isobel’s shoulder and looked up at her through long lashes with big brown questioning eyes.  Isobel caved immediately and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, holding her close, “Practical because I own INCOGNITO.  And family because dad would lecture me to kingdom come if I was caught in a club.”

“What?!?!” Krystal jerked up right away, “You own it???? Are you a millionaire or something???”

Isobel shrugged and gently pulled Krystal back onto her shoulder, “My grandfather left me a lot of money and I wanted to make my own, so I started a business. This café and the club.”

“What about your dad?” Krystal absentmindedly reached up to Isobel’s hand on her shoulder, laced their fingers and dragged it down to her waist, “Why can’t you go to a club?”

Isobel squeezed Krystal’s hand and pulled her impossibly closer, “Dad owns Parker Industries.”

Parker Industries.  Only the biggest marketing and advertisement company in the world.  His only daughter caught in a club, while innocent, would be a scandal in the making.  Krystal felt lightheaded all of a sudden.  This random girl from the club was a lot more than she had first thought.  She could barely string a sentence together as she tried to process the curve ball she’d been dealt with, “W-wha— PARKER INDUSTRIES?!?!”

“Mhmm,” Isobel nodded casually, as if being a modern day millionaires heir was a normal occurrence.

“You’re like… Media royalty!”

“Do I seem like it to you?” Isobel fired back playfully.

That made Krystal pause. To be honest, a leather jacket wearing club owner/café manager was NOT what she would have expected from someone so high up in the social chain.  Though it did explain why she waltzed around like an actual Prince in INCOGNITO.  The thought of a high profile socialite didn’t exactly appeal to Krystal either, so who was she to judge?

“No,” Krystal conceded.

“I’m the same nobody you were crushing on two seconds ago,” Isobel smirked.

Krystal rolled her eyes, “You mean the same nobody who’s been flirting with me.”

“That too,” Isobel grinned, Krystal childishly stuck her tongue out, “Anyway, my turn. What’s your favourite food?”

“Meat.  Right now, I’m really into burritos,” the very thought of it made Krystal’s mouth water.  Then again it was nearly lunchtime.

“Really? I make the best burritos,” Isobel sat up straighter and boasted confidently.

“Oh?” Krystal scoffed, knowing it would rile up the usually in control girl. Isobel threw words that were always charged with some kind of emotion, but she had calm eyes.  It was soothing, her brown eyes didn’t sparkle, they glowed softly.  On the other hand, it made her want to see the other girl out of her element, less calm and in control.

Isobel’s eyes lit up at the challenge, “Come on.”

Next thing Krystal knew she was walking out the back door of the café and straddling a motorbike with Isobel in front.  They had barely ridden about five minutes before they dismounted again at a large apartment complex.  Krystal had just registered how much a motorbike suited Isobel’s image, before the helmet was off her head and she was being dragged to an elevator.

Her jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of the penthouse apartment Isobel led her into.  There were huge floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side.  Everything was in dark, almost black, wood.  Cream walls.  A living room to her right, a kitchen towards the left, dining table in the middle.  With doors leading to other rooms at the sides.  The entire placed screamed ‘modern & chic’.  It was like a dream apartment.

“You live here?!?!”

“Yep,” Isobel grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen, “Now sit.”

Krystal sat on the bar stool by the kitchen counter, she was still staring wide eyed around the massive apartment.  The sound of clunking cutlery, dishes being moved around and the fridge being opened distracted her.  Isobel was bustling around the kitchen with a black apron on, “What’re you doing?”

“Making you the best burrito for lunch.”

Krystal wasn’t sure whether to be shocked that she could cook, or laugh at how childish the ‘Prince’ actually was.

But as she rode back to the studio in her manager’s car, she had to admit — they were great burritos.