Hopelessly Romantic

Part 7

At least, you think she's waiting. You don't really know because you're honestly shocked she remembered you. Of course, it's a long- very long, long shot that she remembers you confessed to her on your last day of school, but it's a possibility because of... that. Because she's looking at you with a smile, a friendly, warm, inviting smile that you haven't gotten a lot. You can only nod, looking at the cookie on your napkin. You suddenly don't feel hungry, you suddenly think eating right now is too disrespectful. You suddenly remember Annie is alive and your best friend. "Oh, you two know each other?" Armin's question is up in the air, ready for you to grab it, but you don't, you pick out your phone and pull up Annie's contact because she's always been there for you, even if she never smiled the way Mikasa does. Ackerman, not Mikasa. Should you even use her first name? No one did unless they were close- "Yeah, I bumped into her yesterday- Wait, what are your pronouns?" You should answer it, you should, but your thumbs are taking up all of your attention.

So, to silence to awkward silence, the question for you never answered by you, Armin says, "I think it's just she and her- I haven't been corrected if not." Mikasa- Ackerman's eyes must be on you because there's this nervous buzz in your veins, feeling like the heat of the sun is on your face. "O...kay, um, what did you get from the café?" Armin answered the question, you're not sure what his words are fully, but you do know Annie is about to respond to your request, three dots rocking back and forth.

My Strong Woman 🤼‍♀️

Don't be a bitch pussy

Me

I don't have a degradation kink bitch!

New conversation

Me

Hey, mind calling me right now?

I'm in a sticky situation

My Strong Woman 🤼‍♀️

Where r u

Me

At the new café

CALL ME

You're drawn out of typing fast when Mikasa's hand comes into view. It's on your red cup- a clear cup filled with red punch that tastes better than the jugs you used to get for your childish parties with Annie. "What are you doing?" You ask this without thinking, your hand reaching above hers, gripping the cup closer to you. "Drinking the punch I like." Your brows furrow. "You can get your own, can't you?" She raises a brow. "I think I'm older than you, aren't I?" Your brows furrow, shoulders raising and dropping in confusion. "I don't know nor care, this is mine." She hums, her fingers tickling the side of your hand. "Well Armin technically did pay for it." She's smiling, and this time it isn't inviting, or friendly. It might be warm, but it's more teasing, taunting, and mocking you with words you can't formulate. She's right, and Armin isn't going to stop her, he shouldn't because he bought it and it's not yours- "It's in my possession." She hums as if she's going to prove you wrong. "Well, my grip is tighter." "Mine is higher." She inhales, nodding and looking at your hand on the cup. You refuse to look at the scene, knowing your body would overheat at the closeness of your hands for the first time in months.

Then you feel it, the warmth her hand provides, fingers dipping into the divots between your fingers. You can really breathe when she looks back at you, enjoying your face and reaction as she says, "But I'm on top." You immediately pull your hand away, and you hear the chuckles, you hear the snickers, but it's hard to make out who it's from when blood is rushing to your ears, your heart is pounding, and your fingers are tingling. Does she really still have this effect on you? Are you really letting her have this effect on you? "You're ringing." You almost scream out a reply, surprised you're hearing her speak to you again. "What?" She's smiling, amused as she explains, "Your phone is ringing." You swallow, throat tightening as you watch her for a second more, hearing the familiar ring of a cringe song your friend hates. You open your lips but before you try to say anything, she puts the clear straw to her pinkish lips, letting it slip between and then-