A/N: Hello everybody. I had this for a while now and after thinking about it, I decided to post it here. It's just a thing that came to my mind while cleaning the kitchen - random, right? - and I just had to write it down.

Warning: Fluffy, Cliche, is not gonna make you think and yet again, CLICHE. Hate that? Run, run like there's no tomorrow.

Disclaimer: Do I look like I own Da Vinci Code or Pokémon? And I'm not Kelly Clarkson and didn't write the song, "A moment like this". Other than that - MINE. MINE. I OWN EVERYTHING, YOU HEAR ME?. not possessive at all.

Request: Other than not steal, is that I'd love to hear what you lovely readers think. Don't be shy, I don't bite....that hard :)

"Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this."

There were specific things that irked Emma Burke to ends; things that made her eyes twitch and made the urge to punch something undeniable.

Like when a child would cry unstoppable in the malls, girls wearing thongs and making a show out of showing people that they wear them, public display of affection, the click of a pen, the constant bobbing of a head or the chewing of a gum. She couldn't stand it when the teachers have something unrecognizable in their teeth and they won't know it themselves, stupid boys who don't know what a belt is but walk around in the city with their pants hanging low and their butt on display but say they have swagger.

But there was something that she hated more than anything, and that something came in the form of a certain black haired guy named Drew Anderson.

Yes, Drew Anderson infuriated her like nothing else could.

She hated the way he would raise his eyebrows, she hated his black rustled hair that was never kempt, she hated his perfect lips, she hated the way he would laugh of her, she hated his smirk, she hated those hazel eyes of his that were so intense, she hated the way he flirted shamelessly with other girl, she hated that he flirted in front of her, she hated the way he would make her laugh and then make her mad, she hated his leather jacket that he always wore, she hated his strong physics that he always used as an advantage in fights, she hated his smile, she hated his voice.

But mostly, she hated that she liked it. She hated that she liked him.

She remembered when she met Drew. It was at the neighbourhood barbecue and she was six while he was seven. She was wearing a red summer dress, which her mother practically forced her to wear, and she had ribbons in her hair. He walked up to her and told her she looked pretty, but he was sure she looked even more if she wore clothes she actually liked. She liked his forwardness, and what she liked even more was his Pokémon t-shirt. Ironically, Drew and Emma hit off. They instantly connected and hung out a lot.

But it was later years that he became distant, more reserved.

She remembered when he was twelve, September the fifth, the day his mother left him. It was midday in September and they were planning on going to the woods to play Robin Hood. As usual he played Robin even if she wanted to play that part. It took more than what it used to but she had convinced him to play with her. because of unknown reasons, he wasn't as keen to hang with her as she was to him. She couldn't understand it, she really couldn't.

She had walked to his house, with a big smile on her face and a basket in her hand. But when she got there, she saw that the door was already open and found him in a fetus position in the corner, weeping silently. She held him that day, held him till he was left with no tears, no word said.

She left, he told her, Mommy left without telling us, without telling daddy...

Emma didn't say anything back, because she knew that he didn't want her to. But her heart clenched to see him like that... to see him so vulnerable. She wanted to hunt his mother down and take her by the ear and tell her to never hurt him like that, that he didn't deserve it and if she ever did something like that again, she would really feel despair. But she didn't say anything and did nothing. The air was filled with silence.

It was those years that made Emma resent him so much... because she wanted him in her life and he rejected her.

She missed the way he used to talk to her, the way he would laugh, the way he would smile at her, she missed those innocent teasing between them, she missed that he was someone she could confide to. Because Emma was a shy girl and only one person managed to break her shell, and it was that person who she later on hated.

Hated, loved? Was it really a big difference between the two emotions?

But with the years, he grew out of that shy schoolboy and developed into a handsome man. He grew muscles, his jaw became more defined, and his eyes – a thing that she used to love about him, even at the age of six – became more alluring. His shoulders became broad; he got much taller, and had that five o'clock shadow. His voice changed into a more manly one, much more huskier. Much more sexier.

He contained a thing she considered bad boy.

No, that was wrong... Wannabe bad boy, yes that's it.

Because she knew, even though he skipped classes, even though he hung with the out casts, even though he got into fights, even though he talked back to the teachers, she knew that he wasn't a bad boy. He had a heart, even if she didn't want to believe it. He did.

But he still continued to annoy her, still did, just to get a reaction out of her.

He would come into the library, where she usually was, just to get on her nerves. He would pick on her choice of books, because he knew that she would get into a defensive modus. Nobody was allowed to criticize her books. But he would tell her that Jane Austen was a lady that had her knickers way up her butt and that Shakespeare was a man that needed to get laid. And they would argue and then he would leave with the last word, making her feel quite breathless.

And what she hated the most was that he would pin point out bad things about her.

You can't talk to people, he would say, you judge people often without knowing them. You're too shy; you hate it when you're wrong. You run away from what you fear. You're too clumsy.

She never questioned how he knew all those things about her, she only thought it was the years of friendship they had.

You're an open book, he would laugh, your emotions are clearly written in your eyes.

She hated that, because she wanted to be a mystery. She wanted to be a treasure that nobody had the key to open. She wanted to be as hard to crack as the Da Vinci Code. But she knew she wasn't and she didn't like it. What she didn't she like even more was that he knew that she wasn't. That he could see through her was something that gave her unwillingly shivers; that those hazel eyes could read her so easily... It sent her into a wild wire of emotions.

But he was...he was a mystery....

She couldn't read him; she couldn't understand how his mood could change so fast, how he sometimes could be so caring and other times so fierce. She didn't understand some of the words he would say, like when he's about to go but turns around and says; if you only knew. He wouldn't elaborate.

But now, Emma made a mistake, a mistake she couldn't take back.

She was sick of liking Drew, loving him, whatever she was. She was sick of it, sick of shivering from the mere tone of his voice, sick of smiling just by looking at him. She hated those girls who would pin after guys that would never return the feelings. She was sick of being the shy girl nobody paid attention to, the freckled, blond straight haired, glass wearing girl. So, on a Saturday, she went to a party. It was something she thought she would never do, but she did. But she didn't drink... No way José. She had some morals and some of them were no drinking, no smoking and no fornicating.

But she did however go up to a guy and kiss him. She didn't even know who he was; he was wearing a cap and had a cup in his hands, leaning on the wall, trying to look all cool. She didn't see his hair color, but he was tall, that she noticed. He didn't push her away, thinking that he would get some action. His lips were slightly ripped and hard, and he smelled of beer. She had to stop herself from gagging. It was her first kiss and some would want their first kiss to be romantic, sweet and with a guy they liked. But she only wanted to forget about a certain someone… she didn't succeed because she could only think about how different it would be if it was him, if it was Drew.

As though the heavens wanted a laugh, she felt strong hands pull her away and furious hazel eyes glare down at her. He didn't say anything as he pulled her out of the house, with the cap guy protesting and she was too paralyzed to say anything, to do anything. All she did was walk dumbly behind him. He started to yell at her, ask her what she was doing here and he swore… a lot. His hands were flying wild, and he paced back and forth.

But by now, Emma was feeling slightly mad, because even though she was trying to forget about him, he still crawled under her skin. So, she started to talk back and then people were staring at them but they vanished immediately as Drew glared at them, daring them to make a comment about the scene. She hated that she couldn't glare, something that Drew had pointed out on several occasions. But she couldn't. And how she wished she could right then. Even if she narrowed her eyes, squinted them, anything, it wouldn't be a glare… she just looked like she had something in her eyes.

No wonder your mother left you.

She regretted saying them, the minute it came out of her mouth. She didn't mean it, she didn't at all. It was something said in the heat of the moment.

He stopped talking and looked at her, his eyes looking furious and his hands clenched as if suppressing his anger. But then the anger disappeared and was replaced with disappointment, pure disappointment. His eyes that a few seconds ago held rage, were empty. As if he looked at her, he saw nothing.

She tried to say that she didn't mean it, tried to ask for forgiveness but he left, without a word and all she was left with was the anguish feeling down the pit of her stomach. Tears started making its way into her eyes, her throat was dry. With a big heavy sigh, she left for her car. She didn't even glance back at the house, didn't even go back to the cap wearing dude that she now referred to as Ruined Lips.Her chest hurt as she started the car and finally let her tears run free while she whispered, in a small voice, "I hate you Drew anderson."


He ignored her. He ignored her like she was pestilence, didn't take notice to her as if she was a fly. Oh, how she hated that. She hated when he ignored her presence and she wished that he would yell at her, laugh at her, or even throw something at her…anything but ignoring. In class, when she walked inside, he wouldn't as usual make a remark about her outfit. He didn't even spare her a glance. In the hallways, he occopied himself with his female friends or the pack of guys he knew. And she would walk in front of him or behind him and hope that he would just turn around to look at her. She tried talking to him on several occasions, but he dismissed her so casually and even though she was feeling guilty, she still wanted to punch him.

And now she was standing outside his black mustang, his baby, shivering slightly as the wind picked up, waiting for him to get out of the schoolbuilding. His last class was science, and if she knew him right, he would be running out of the building the minute the bell rang.

"You know, this counts as stalking."

She blamed the weather for the goose bumps. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt underneath his leather jacket. He stood in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest and, oh god forbid, his eyebrows raised.

"You won't take my calls." She shrugged, trying not to care about his stare. "And besides, I'm here to apologize."

"For what?" He asked her. This was another thing she hated about him, prolonging everything, even though he knew exactly why she was there. He wanted her to say it, to voice it out, even if he did know it.

"I'm sorry, I really am." She looked down, biting her lower lip. "I didn't mean the thing I said about your mom and the leaving and whatnot…I'm sorry… it was disrespectful and I didn't mean it. I was just mad and…"

He looked at her, with disbelieving eyes.

"You know what I don't understand?" He asked, though it was clear that the wasn't looking for an answer. "What I don't understand is that a smart girl can be so fucking dense." He pointed at her, his voice rising. "I don't understand that during all these years that you still are so unbelievable thick. This is not rocket science. Listen Emma Christine Burke, and listen carefully! I don't fucking care about my mother, in my mind she stopped existing the minute she walked out of the house. You don't even know why I'm mad do you? No, you think something and you don't even consider the other option."

She was really confused but she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked right then. Yes, he was attractive even though he was angry and he had this black demeanor around him. Right then, he had that bad boy image working and if he wanted to, he could use it against her.

"And you know what Em?" He was in front of her now, towering like a predator. "You think I liked seeing that dickhead kissing you? Don't you ever think about other people? You just live in your own princess world not thinking about who cares about your or who doesn't!"

And then he grasped her by the neck and crushed her mouth with his in a bruising kiss. She was too shocked to respond but she noticed that his lips were surprisingly soft, and he smelled like pepper mint. The kiss was filled with frustration and anger, there was passion there too. Oh god, this was so much better than Ruined Lips. And as she was about to respond to his kiss, it was over.

He leaned his forehead against hers and breathed deeply, his hands were still clutching at her neck, holding her captive. No, he didn't need to do that, his eyes were enough.

"Don't you see it now? Can't you see it? Or do I have to spell it out for you?"

She couldn't help the big grin that erupted on her face. He liked her, he actually liked her! Drew Anderson, the infuriating guy she hated but loved, actually returned her feelings. There were many things she wanted to ask, but as she looked at his lips, they vanished from her mind.

She stood on her tiptoe, her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him again, softly.

His eyes were half closed, his voice thick as he asked, "I thought you didn't like people kissing or touching each other in public?"

"For you, I'll make an exception." She licked her lower lip, grinning. "Baby."