Here's the next chapter! Thank you for the lovely reviews!

Chapter 7:

The door to the coffee shop opened with a jingle. Light jazz crackled from invisible speakers and he scanned the tables, the rich scent of fresh coffee grounds filling his nose.

There she was.

Tucked in a corner, she'd taken a table meant for four. Scraps of paper fanned out, monopolizing the entirety of the table space. With hair tied up, piled high on her head, she hunched over the table. Her focus on the paper below was absolute.

She hadn't see him come in, so he went ahead to the counter and ordered a drink. As his coffee was prepared and he waited, listening to the espresso machine hiss, she stared down, her focus unbroken.

Mug in hand, he approached the table. It wasn't until he pulled the chair back and its wooden legs squeaked over the linoleum that her concentration was at long last broken. As he dropped into the chair, she looked up with a start.

"Zoro!" Shuffling papers back to make room for his mug, she glanced up at the clock. "I didn't think you were coming for another half an hour."

"One of the recruits was injured in an exercise. We ended the day early."

Once the papers were arranged in reasonably neat piles, she leaned over the table and captured his lips in a slow, caressing kiss.

Against his lips, she murmured, "I missed you."

A throat cleared.

Tilting her head, Nami grinned sheepishly over his shoulder. "Sorry Ms. Ricci!"

Smiling, he gave the woman behind the counter a wave. He muttered under his breath, "I forgot the crotchety old woman has a problem with PDA."

Gasping, Nami shushed him. "This is my favorite coffee shop! I'll kill you if you get us kicked out."

"You were just saying how much you missed me."

Smiling, she played with his hand. "I did. But this is coffee, Zoro. Serious business."

Grasping her hand, he squeezed. "What are you working on?" He nodded to the papers.

"It's from our trip to Lovell's Island!" After shuffling through the papers, she held up a half-finished map. "It's really coming along. In fact, I've almost finished the Eastern coast."

He could see where a coastline stretched, complete, save for an inch or so of blank space.

"Go ahead and finish it."

"You're here now. I can finish it later."

"I came early and interrupted your drawing time. I want to watch."

"Really?" she asked, skeptical.

Surprisingly enough, he did. "I've never watched you work on your maps before."

"If you're sure." She smiled. "I'll explain my process as I go."

And so she'd rifled through her papers – mostly her initial sketches of the island – and pen in hand, had begun to carefully etch lines once more.

As she drew, her eyes traced the work, occasionally flicking up to meet his stare. Lips pursed, she spoke, her loud voice subdued in concentration. As her hand moved, brushing sure, steady strokes she told him about the measurements she'd made, how she scaled the compact drawing, and even the secrets to keeping a steady hand.

He couldn't look away.

Forgotten, his coffee cooled.

It was there, in the coffee shop with that god-awful jazz, persistent, in the background that the revelation struck.

Well shit.

He was in love.

Around her, maps tacked carefully to the walls waved and fluttered. She'd opened the window because it had felt a bit stuffy, but now it was cold. Pacing the room, she rubbed at her arms. Normally the light, crisp smell of paper was a balm to her nerves.

But not today.

And she had no one to blame but herself. When she'd called Zoro that morning, asking if he wanted to get lunch, she'd been absolutely, one-hundred percent sure that she was ready to see him.

Now that he was on his way, bringing take-out for lunch – her confidence waned.

As she paced, the headache that had plagued her the previous evening threatened to return, a creeping throb behind her temples. Pressing the heels of her hands against her forehead, she sighed.

"Hey – you alright?"

Her hands dropped.

Paper bag in hand, Zoro stood at the door.

"I'm fine."

He looked skeptical.

"Really." Quickly shuffling papers from her desk, she waved him over. "What did you bring?"

"Burritos." Pulling a hand from the bag, he waived a paper-wrapped burrito in the air.

"From where?"

"La Casita."

"Never heard of it."

He didn't even look up from the burritos and chips he was setting out on the desk. "You like it."

Oh.

"Did I eat there a lot?"

"We got it a lot when we had movie nights."

They had movie nights? And how often had she eaten those monster burritos? That could not have been healthy. "What kind of movies did we watch?"

Peeling the lid from a container of salsa, he hesitated for the slightest moment. "You know, some action. Some comedy."

"You're lying." She didn't know how, but she knew. It was as obvious as a neon sign flashing above his head.

He looked at her sharply. "How the hell did you know?"

"What did we watch?"

His answer was a mumble.

"What?"

"Chick-flicks." He breathed. "The - uh - romance ones."

"No." A smile spread across her face. "You don't seem like the type."

"I'm not!" Glancing down, he amended. "Well I wasn't. You made me watch a lot. They kind of grew on me."

Amazing. Reaching for a burrito, she wondered what other secrets he might be harboring.

Across the desk, he'd already begun to eat his, wolfing it down in large bites. Peeling back the wrapping, she took a tentative bite of her own. It was good. She took a larger bite. Savory rice, beans, and tender meat mixed with salsa that had just the right kick, blended together on her tongue. No wonder they'd eaten there a lot.

When she looked up, he was watching her. A scrunched-up burrito wrapper had been discarded on the desk. "Good?"

She nodded, grabbing for a napkin. "Really good. You were totally right. I love it."

He nodded, pleased.

As she ate, they lapsed into silence. It was still somewhat awkward, as she found herself without much to say. But earlier – when he'd first arrived, for a short while at least, it had felt…different. There had been a certain ease to their interactions. Why? She couldn't say. Maybe he'd begun to seem less of a stranger to her. But there'd been something about the way he'd behaved too; it seemed like less of a strain to bring up events she didn't remember. Perhaps he was coming to terms with the fact that she might never remember – and was now focused on moving forward.

It was a heartening thought. Because if she was never going to get those five years back – which she very well might not – she was ready to move forward too.

When she finished, he took the paper from her, crunched it up and tossed it in the bag. Rolling it all in a giant paper wad, he took aim, and tossed it at the trash. It dropped in with a thunk.

She whistled. "You missed your calling. Should have played basketball."

Brushing an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder, he feigned indifference. "Yeah. I mean, I've never missed a five foot trashcan shot yet."

"An impressive record."

"I like to think so."

They sunk into another short spell of silence.

Hands clasped together, he lifted his head, looking around the room. "How's business going?"

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him it was going well, but instead, told the truth. "Kind of awful actually."

He sat up, surprise clear on his face. "What? Why?"

She shrugged, glancing down at her hands.

"Your maps are the best out there. Not to mention, they're fucking works of art. There's no way people don't want to buy them."

Works of art. For a moment, she sat, stunned. Eyes upturned, she looked around the room. Was that really what he thought of them?

"You think they're art?"

"Of course they're art. I watched you work on them; saw the time and work you put into making every line perfect, getting just the right colors."

She blinked. "Oh."

"What's really going on?"

She sucked in a deep breath - and dropped back with a sigh. "The problem's not the maps. It's me. I'm an awful saleswoman these days."

"Nami. You're an amazing saleswoman. You once convinced some poor bastard to buy a half drunk bottle of coke off you."

"No way."

He held up his hands. "I saw the whole thing."

Chin perched on her hand, she watched him with an amused smile. "Maybe you were unknowingly doing some tough guy routine. Maybe the guy was intimidated into buying the drink."

He opened his mouth. And closed it. He blinked. "I hadn't thought about that." He frowned. "Now that you mention it, you did hold my hand the whole time. I was right next to you."

She shrugged. "It's how I would do it now."

"What makes you a bad saleswoman then?"

Crossing her arms, she draped herself over the desk. "I know next to nothing about most of the maps here. I mean, I could research the locations online – and I have. But what really sells is when I can describe to the buyer exactly what makes this onemap special: the things I saw, felt, smelled." Her head dropped to the desk with a light thud. "And I can't remember any of that."

He didn't reply.

Instead, his chair scraped back. Heavy footfalls crossed the floor.

Something was set upon the desk.

She lifted her head. A map. More importantly, it was one from the five year gap: a peninsula.

Zoro leaned over it, his hands braced on the desk. "You did a lot of traveling on your own. But when we were dating, every once in a while, you'd bring me along."

Slowly, she sat up, looking between him and the map. "You went here-" she traced her finger lightly over the paper. "with me?"

He nodded.

"And you remember it?"

"The important parts."

"Tell me."

"Alright. Well, here-" his index finger hovered over the coast. "There were cliffs. They were really high. Must have stretched up at least a mile. But the color was what really struck me. It was this warm tan. And all over, there were streaks of red. Really vibrant. It made the ocean water seem that much more blue."

She listened, enraptured, imagining the scene he described.

His finger shifted. "Up from the cliffs there were hills. They were the greenest things I've ever seen. And there were all these tiny little trees just sitting at the bottom of the slope."

Tracing a hand over the paper, she looked at the lines with renewed wonder. "Another. Do another one."

So he retrieved another map. And another. And then another.

Heads bent together, they stared down at map after map. Imagined scenery danced before her eyes as he recounted their trips, describing the wonders she no longer remembered.

So caught up was she in the sound of his low, baritone voice and the way his hands lifted, fingers curving to mime the shapes of lakes, rivers, hillsides, that the sudden squeak of the shop's door, accompanied by a cool gust, caught her off guard.

"Nami?" Robin called in from the door.

She jumped, surprised. Hadn't Robin said she was coming by at 5:00? Her eyes turned up to the clock. It read 5:10

Robin's gaze flicked between them. Her curiosity was evident. "Zoro, I thought you and Nami were getting lunch?" Her lips curved up in a slow smile. "You've been here all this time?"

Nami coughed, clearing her throat. "He was telling me about some of the maps I don't remember. I guess we lost track of the time."

"I see." If anything, the smile grew. "Are you still up for game night at my place? I was going to stop by the store and could use a couple extra hands to help carry the groceries."

"Yep!"

She glanced sideways at Zoro. He'd been invited right? It would be rude to be talking about it in front of him otherwise.

Robin was already addressing him. "You're coming?"

"Yeah, I was planning on it." He glanced once in her direction. "You don't mind?"

She shook her head.

What was she supposed to say? He'd spent the better part of the afternoon doing nothing but describing maps to her. The guy deserved to have some fun. Besides, the afternoon had been…nice. Really nice. Despite the lingering awkwardness, she found that she really did want to spend more time with him.

"You should definitely come. But be prepared. You probably already know, I'm pretty competitive."

He snorted. "That's for sure." Grinning, he leaned in. "But guess what? So am I."

He was close enough that her first instinct was to take a step back. But she'd been doing enough of that lately. Holding her ground, she met his eyes. Then, as if it were their natural path, her eyes slowly rolled down. They slid down, tracing the bridge of his nose, and finally, landed on his lips.

"Shall we go then?" Robin spoke from the door.

Blinking, she forcibly turned away, cursing her traitorous eyes all the while. She'd meant to meet his stare, not give his face an, an - an eye grope.

Her stomach did a small flip as she collected her purse and hurried to the door. It was undeniable that he was attractive. Wandering eyes were to be expected. But physical attraction couldn't take the place of affection or love. She didn't want a lingering gaze to be interpreted as something more. Not until she had something more to give.

After locking up the shop, they set off down the street. Robin chatted about her day at the university and Nami listened, all the while unable to quite meet the gaze of the man beside her.