Mon Cherie

Chapter 1

"One peppermint mocha please," the blonde said nicely, her blue eyes glancing back down to the awe-struck teenager who stared wide eyed at her. 

"Y-you, you're..." he stammered, tapping the shoulder of the girl working with him, who was well aware that the famous Fionna LaCore was standing in their coffee shop.

"Fionna Marie LaCore, yep, that's me." the blonde giggled with a nod. "Would you like a--"

"Oh my gawd, can we get an autograph? Please?" the girl with brown hair asked abrubtly then, handing Fionna a pen and a piece of of paper from behind the counter.

She laughed softly again, nodding as she took off her black knit gloves and stuffed them in her purse, before taking the pen, and noting, "Purple? My favorite color!" with a smile, and writing her signature onto the paper for the teens. "There ya go. Thanks for being a fan,"

"Oh no, thank you," the boy shook his head, his green eyes widening before remembering her order and turning to hand her the red snowflake design covered cup. 

Fionna hummed lightly as she took the warm cup from him, nodding her thanks and exhanged this with her debit card. With shaky hands, the boy ran the silver card along the side of the register and Fionna continued to smile at him. Once she got her card back, she turned around to walk out but was soon put to a halt when she knocked into someone in front of her. 

"Shit!"

The hot liquid had spilled all over her brown trenchcoat and her teal scarf and clattered to the floor. She stepped quickly away so the drink wouldn't hit her black boots and luckily she had on so many layers she had only felt the warmth from the heat of the coffee. "Oh God I-I'm so sorry!" Fionna stammered, looking down at the mess, and then back at the stranger.

"No, no, you're alright, Love." he replied, his blonde brows raising as he took hold of her bicep, stopping her hands as they moved aorund worriedly to clean up the mess she had created. "Really, it's alright!" he laughed now, giving her arm a gentle tug and making Fionna glanced up, seeing a pair of dazzling blue eyes, and blonde, highlighted hair. 

He looked way too familiar...

Fionna sighed, going into a squatting position as he let go of her. "I feel awful. I'm sorry for your jacket," she winced at the dark brown stain starting to settle into the cotton.

The blonde lad shook his head. "It's no problem, I can just take it to the cleaner's." he insisted, the Irish accent had now become a dead giveaway to the pop singer.

Raising herself up, Fionna smiled down at him, placing her right hand on the curve of her hip and she let out a little laugh. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Horan..."