***Hello! Hopefully you didn't kill me for the cliffhanger last time. Anyway, I had quite a few different ideas for the song for this chapter. Some I considered were, "Bad Blood," "Lips Are Movin," and "10,000 Hours," but I eventually decided on this one, because even though the context doesn't really fit, it's an underrated country song and it encapsulates Pixal's emotions at the beginning very well. So, hope you enjoy! See you at the end!***

Zane's POV

How is Pixal here? Did she somehow know that I would be at this particular cafe on a date that I was too selfless to cancel?

Or has my life just become a soap opera?

She stares at me for a moment, appalled, before continuing: "You, insolent scoundrel! You devious rat!"

"Uh," I speak at the highest decibel I can muster, which is barely a squeak, "what exactly did I do, again?"

She grunts: "You say all of these fake, sweet things, and then you go on a date with someone else! You completely played me!"

I grasp for the words: "Ah, I did not mean to-"

Melanie stands up: "Is this your ex?"

"No," I say. "Pixal is my, uh, colleague."

"Sure," Pixal snaps. "You flirt with your colleagues."

A blond man who looks a bit younger than Jay with the same police uniform except that instead of saying "Pixal," the pocket reads, "Garmadon," walks up next to Pixal. He puts his hand on her shoulder: "I don't think you're 'fine,' Pixal. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she hisses. "Zane and I were just having a friendly chat."

His unnaturally green eyes fall on me: "Oh. So that's why I heard a rabid animal."

"Lloyd-" she spits like venom. It must be the man's name. "-I have this handled. I was just informing Zane that he is a lying, immeasurable bas-"

The blond man's eyes soften: "Pix, have you even let him speak? You were kinda rash in going about this, I-"

"Yes," she responds, cutting him off. "He has nothing to say for himself."

Melanie slings her purse over her shoulder and starts to step back: "I think I should leave you alone. This isn't my place. Zane, I hope we can still be friends."

I make the mistake of waving her goodbye.

"You dare to be polite right now?" Pixal barks, crossing her arms.

Jay tries to mediate, stepping in the middle of us: "I'm sure this all a big misunderstanding!" He laughs nervously: "We're all friends here."

Lloyd touches Pixal's arm: "Pix, I told you, you need to stop bottling up your emotions. It only leads to disaster."

She jumps back like a provoked wolverine: "And I told you that I hate him! You are not listening to me!"

And then a waitress chimes in, "I'm sorry, but you're making a ruckus. Quiet down, or you'll have to leave."

"Pix, you're volatile right now," Lloyd says. "We should go home."

Her green eyes glow with fury: "I am not volatile! We are leaving, but it is not because of my attitude. It is because I desperately want to get away from him."

I exhale. This is an utter disaster. "I am sorry, Pixal," I plead. "I did not mean to hurt you."

"Too late," she retorts coldly. "We are leaving."

Why does my heart feel like a stone?

"Come on, Lloyd," she says, grasping her friend's hand. "I would rather not blow up again."

He nods silently, and they exit the café.

Other occupants and onlookers gawk at me, and I do not know what to do.

I turn to Jay and put my head in my hands: "I have royally messed up."

"Yeah, buddy," he pats me on the back. "Understatement of the century."

I ignore his remark and try to compose myself: "I have made every possible mistake, but I am not going to make the err of not making it up to her."

"Zane," Jay looks at me, skeptically, "are you sure this is a good idea?"

I step forward: "It is the only one I have. So, I have to try."

My blue-attired brother shrugs: "Whatever you say. But I'm not leaving you alone. If this goes extra wrong, I've gotta be there."

"I believe that 'extra wrong' is not grammatically correct," I chide. "But I appreciate the sentiment. Anyway, we should be going."

Jay rolls his eyes: "They might get too far away, I get it. But Zane, if you're going to try to get this girl on our side, you're going to need my help. I'm the original ladies' man, after all." He winks playfully.

I laugh, "I doubt it was your flirting that won Nya over, but I digress."

"You're one to talk. I don't think my flirting ever made Nya do that," he puts a finger to his chin. "I don't think I've ever seen any girl explode like that, to be honest. She seems like a lot to handle."

I grin, "That is why I like her."

"Fair enough," Jay grins back.

So, we pay and then follow them.

I spot that familiar silver hair a decent way away, so I start fast-walking to catch up with them.

Once I get a few meters behind them, I can hear what they are saying. Jay catches up not long after.

I hear that melodious voice, like wind chimes: "I am sorry, Lloyd. I let my emotions monopolize my actions. I ruined your lunch."

"It's okay," Lloyd gives her a side-hug. "If you're hurting, my stupid lunch doesn't matter anyway. We can go another time."

Is she hurting...because of me? I did not realize the gravity of this situation.

I sigh softly. Maybe I am at fault here. I acted like her feelings were a joke.

I look up and hear her say, "You do know I am trained in five different martial arts, correct?"

Jay stares at me, and I stare at him. I suppose we are not as skilled in stealth as I thought.

"I wanted to apologize," I beg.

She looks at me, her eyes spelling murder: "Well, why could you not have just gone home and tried again later?"

"We were worried you might find out where our base is," Jay reasons.

I add, "And I do not have your number."

"Stop it," she crosses her arms. "I am not taking any more of that."

"My words are genuine," I attempt to assure her.

She sighs heavily: "I am not falling for that again. You can walk with us if you want, but do not talk to me. Unless you would like to get smacked upside the head."

My lips form a perfect line. I doubt Pixal would do that, but she may do something far worse with how she is acting right now. Like, bombard me with hateful words again.

I stay silent for a moment, and she turns to stare at me: "Please do not pout like that. I told you, I am mad at you. You are intolerable."

"Well, I must be a tiny bit tolerable," I disagree, "because you let me come."

She bites back a smile: "Well, maybe my liking for you is slightly more than my anger. Do not take it to heart, though."

"You are intelligent," I whisper. "And incredibly beautiful."

Pixal groans: "That will not work anymore, Zane. I know they are empty now. Insult me for all I care, but I swear to the FSM, if you give me another insincere compliment, I will magnetize myself."

Lloyd taps on Jay's shoulder and whispers, "What does that mean?"

"She's furious," Jay explains. "To magnetize a computer means to wipe it blank."

Lloyd's mouth gapes: "Oh, she is mad."

"Well, if I cannot convince you-"I sigh, glancing at her pretty face, "-I will just leave you be. But I want you to know; I was going to cancel."

I seem to have intrigued her: "What?"

"I was going to cancel on her," I admit. "I just did not have the heart to."

She sighs: "I think it matters not what you were 'going' to do, and more what you did. Do you not agree?"

"I see your point," I fold my hands. "But, Pixal, please forgive me. I did not mean to hurt you. I was just doing what I thought was right."

She scoffs, "Like empty flirting is morally sound."

"Pixal," I plead, "I can make this up to you, I promise. Just let me buy you ice cream, and we can talk this out!"

"Fine," she reluctantly agrees. "But only on one condition."

My eyes widen: "What is it? Pixal, I assure you, I would do anything."

"No flirting," she deadpans.

I walk up beside her: "That will not be a problem."

"Yeah right," Jay whispers, and I hope she does not hear.

She glares at me: "If we are going to go, let us go. I would rather pull out my hair than do this, but I am giving you another chance."

She wants me to take it. Does she still like me, even though she is mad?

"Just, come on," she says, gripping my hand.

My processors sputter. I cannot mess this up.

"I shall talk to you later, Lloyd," she turns to her friend. "And I want you to know if you do not hear from me, I have most likely taken on a new identity and moved to Costa Rica."

Lloyd nods, not acknowledging her joke: "Call me if you need anything, Pix. I'm always here for you."

"Thank you," she flashes him a quick smile, and we turn to leave.

I wave: "Bye, Jay."

"Good luck, buddy," he replies. "Don't get pulverized."

She looks at me, and I feel all my internal workings start to melt with happiness. I am ruined.

We walk down the sidewalk for a while, making our way back into the center of the city.

"I was foolish to care so much," she speaks.

I pique an eyebrow: "You cared about what I said?"

"Obviously," she retorts with a sassy hand gesture. "Why do you think I blew up at you?"

I put my hands out in front of me: "I do not know. Maybe you spilled water on your circuits?"

"No," she says, cold as stone. "I cared too much. But I do not care anymore." Something makes me think that is a lie.

Maybe it is the way she speaks the words like she's trying to convince herself. Or perhaps it is how she agreed to this, even though she is still upset at me.

So many great things fill my brain to tell her how amazing she is. But she has assured me that she would not appreciate that.

I take a deep breath. I should just try to see us as friends for today. Get to know her better before I jump onto the soulmate train.

"Are you alright?" she asks. "Was it something I said?"

I shake my head: "No, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

I bite my lip in remorse: "I have handled this quite selfishly. I treated you like a thing to fill a hole in my life, instead of a person with feelings. I am genuinely sorry."

"You are right," she remarks, surprising me. She is a headstrong girl. Never afraid of speaking her mind. That is one of the things I like about her: "But I accept your apology."

I chuckle: "Thank you."

And as she smiles back at me, we make it to the ice cream shop. And before I can open the door for her, she opens it for me. Who would have thought such a little lady could be so agile?

I nod with another "Thank you," and we enter the establishment.

The chilly air comforts me. This is my happy place.

Jo, the plump elderly lady who runs the shop, appropriately named "Jo's Ice Cream," smiles at us: "Aww, aren't you cute! What can I get you two today?"

"Um," Pixal mutters before saying, "my friend, Zane, can order his first." A bit of a punch to the gut based on where we were before, but I smile anyway.

At least she's not calling me a rat again: "One cookies and cream and one strawberry on a waffle cone, please."

"Alright," Jo grins, "the usual. And what'll you have, dearie?"

"Hmm, " Pixal observes the flavors for a second. "One mint chocolate chip, one pecan pie, and one lemon swirl, please. On a waffle cone."

Jo grins: "That'll be 17.60, dears. Just give me a minute, and I'll have em ready."

I set the money down on the counter, and she scoops the ice cream into our cones. She hands them to us and waves as we go out the door: "Have a great day!"

Pixal's POV

Maybe this was not as bad as I thought. I turn to Zane and smile as we sit down at one of those patio tables with the umbrellas. You know the ones.

"Three scoops?" he asks as he licks his ice cream. "It almost feels like you are taking advantage of me."

I giggle, "I think that is called karma. And so what? I am an opportunist."

"I can see that," he replies, "but it is almost taller than you are. How are you going to eat it?"

I shoot him a playful glare: "I am eating it, am I not? And I am aware of my stature; you do not need to remind me. I barely even reach your shoulder."

"You are a petite individual," he remarks, booping my nose. I think he meant to say the word "cute," but he realized that I would appreciate that even less.

I lick my ice cream, getting it on my cheek: "I hate you," I say with fake offense, playfulness lining the words.

"You know you love me," he jokes back.

If only he knew how true that statement is.

But I will arrest him. I have to bury these feelings deep inside, with the rest of them.

We are barely even friends. And we are forbidden to be even that. A cop and a vigilante could never be together.

It is like Romeo and Juliet. Pairings so passionate, so emotional, so surrounded by conflict are always cursed. And I cannot endure that pain. So I push the feelings away.

Then Zane blurts, "You have some on your face."

"Oh-" if I were human, I might have blushed, "-where?"

He reaches out his hand and rubs his thumb against my cheek, removing the ice cream. I believe what I am experiencing is what girls in my high school called "the tinglies." A cold rush through my circuits that makes my throat quiver.

Once he finishes, he proudly says, "There." A smirk plays upon his lips. He knows what he is doing.

That is why I have to try with all my might to see us only as acquaintances. I lean to lick my ice cream once more, and I slip. I regain my footing, but the top scoop leaps into the air and almost hits the ground—but before it can, it freezes in midair.

I spot Zane with his free hand in a grasping position. Right, his elemental power. Cryokinesis must be part of it.

He floats the ice cream back onto my cone and grins at me.

"Thank you!" I remark with relief. "That was close."

He chuckles: "All in a day's work."

"And thank you," I say politely, "for the ice cream."

He smiles in that same, heart-smushing way: "It is nothing. Thank you for your forgiveness." I watch him lower his ice cream cone and look at me: "It means the world to me to get to know you better."

Why does he have to be so...adorable! Yes, that is the word I am looking for. I have the strong urge to hug him right now, even though that would be inappropriate. "You know what?" I sigh. "I changed my mind. I will give you my number."

"Really?" he questions incredulously.

I glance at him, playfully: "Yes. You are a hero to ice cream lovers everywhere. It would be ridiculous not to. But, this does not mean that we are friends."

"It kind of does," he says, stifling a laugh.

I groan, scribbling it down on a scrap of paper. I push it across the table: "Whatever. Just take it before I change my mind."

"Gladly," he flashes a dopey grin. Maybe this day came back around.

When he speaks, the way my processors flutter makes me happy I did not write it off as a total bust before giving him a second chance.

Being friends could not hurt anything, right?

***I hope you enjoyed the fluff. I was going to take a few week break from this book to figure out the plot better, but the illustration for this chapter took so long that I figured out the plot for chapter five, so I'll be starting on that soon. I am very happy with how the illustration turned out though, despite it taking me a month. I don't usually do realism, but I think it might be my best work. I hope you like it. Have a great whenever, and see you next time!***