For teamrafinha: Jonathan dos Santos

You were the ultimate feminist. Independent in every meaning of the word, you always refused help from people, especially men. Coming from a family where your father had walked out on you, your mother, and your two younger sisters, you didn't have a father figure growing up. You had been forced to grow up early to help your mother with income and raising your two younger sisters. Independence and avoidance of romance went hand and hand for you.

So, when you first met Jonathan dos Santos, you weren't a real fan. You two had met while you had been studying for you college final in a small coffee shop. Thinking that no one would bother you in the small corner store, you had been sorely wrong. You sat at a table for two, your study guide, textbook, and notes thrown about the table in a neat chaos, if that even makes sense.

You were a perfectionist, borderline OCD, so when Mr. Jonathan dos Santos sauntered over to your table, your initial reaction to him sitting in the seat across from you, messing up the perfectly laid out notes, your expression had immediately turned cold. "Can I help you?" you had asked coldly.

"I saw that you were sitting all alone, and I wondered why a pretty girl like you would be sitting here all by herself."

"I'm studying, and I prefer to do so when I'm alone," you stated, trying to lead Jonathan to the conclusion that you didn't want to be flirted with, especially while you were busy. Of course, like most men in the world, Jonathan was absolutely oblivious to your cold tone and hard expression.

"Team work never hurt anyone," Jonathan shrugged, looking down at the notes you had placed on the table. "What are you studying?"

"Chemistry," you replied stiffly.

"Never was really any good at chemistry," Jonathan chuckled. You didn't even crack a smile. Jonathan's smile prevailed however, and you started becoming highly annoyed with this guy. "But, I never did catch your name. My name's Jonathan," he introduced himself.

"And I'm busy."

"Nice to meet you, Busy. It's an unusual name around these parts," Jonathan joked. Glancing at the clock, you let out a sigh of relief.

"I have to go," you said, not really caring if he was listening or not. Packing up your school stuff, you shoved it into your backpack and walked towards the exit.

"Hey, Busy, will I ever see you again?" Jonathan questioned, turning to look at you as you walked to the door.

"Don't know," you had shrugged. "But, I sure hope not," you muttered to yourself, walking towards your job. You worked as a bartender at a local club. It paid decent, but the real money was in tips. The other girls that worked with you insisted that for every button on your shirt undone, you'd get fifty dollars more in tips. Having too much self-dignity and not nearly that desperate for attention of money, you kept your shirt properly buttoned.

Wiping down the bar, you glanced up at the door as a few more customers walked into the bar. Groaning to yourself, you recognized one of the men, a certain boy who had been annoying you back at the coffee shop. You turned around and hoped that he hadn't seen you. Your luck had run out, however. The bell at the bar rang and you turned around to see him sitting at the bar, an annoyingly huge smile on his face. "What can I get you?" you asked.

"A beer and your number, (Y/N)," he winked.

"How did you know my name?" Jonathan pointed to your name tag and you rolled your eyes. Of course it had been your name tag. "One beer coming up." You grabbed the beer from the storage place under the bar, expecting Jonathan to stare at your butt like every other guy did. Peeking out from under your hair, you didn't see him staring at your butt, but at the employee identification board hanging behind the bar. Standing back up, you placed the beer in front of him, popping the top off. "Anything else?"

"You forgot to give me your number," Jonathan replied, taking a swig of his beer.

"I forgot on purpose," you said, as if you were talking to a three-year-old. In all other circumstances, you would have felt ashamed for talking to someone in such a manner but there was something about this guy that just made you twitch.

"I don't know why you would do that, I mean I am the most eligible bachelor in all the world," Jonathan joked, adding in a wink at the end of his statement for good measure.

"Humble, I like that in a guy," you stated sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you went to serve other people at the bar. After you had gotten one person a drink, the bell would always ring. You'd walk over to Jonathan, expecting him to want something. But every time you walked back over there, he'd just ask for your number once more. He had finished his beer long ago but seemed only interested in getting your number, forgetting about everything else.

Finally, you took away the bell, which only made Jonathan's smile widen. "I'm not annoying you, am I?" he asked.

"Not at all," you said through clenched teeth. The crowd had thinned out considerably, most people having moved to the dance floor or bathroom to puke up all the alcohol they had. But, Jonathan just sat there on his stool, waiting patiently for you to return with your number. Since you had taken away his bell, he just banged his empty beer bottle on the bar, causing you to try and rip it out of his hand. "Are you finished with that?" you asked for the umpteenth time.

"No, there's still a little bit left," Jonathan responded. "But thanks for being concerned about me, (Y/N), it means a lot." You shot him a deadpanned look and continued with your work. Jonathan's incessant banging and such had gotten you so annoyed, you were ready to bang the beer bottle over his head. Reaching your breaking point, and with your boss lurking nearby, you walked over to Jonathan as he banged his bottle once more.

"Look, if I give you my number, will you please leave me alone?" you sighed, exasperated.

"Throw in a date with it, and I'll be as silent as a statue."

"Fine," you growled, scribbling your number down onto a napkin and slamming it down on the bar for Jonathan. "Anything else, Jonathan?" you asked, with a sickly sweet tone in your voice.

"You could kiss the napkin, so I'd have something to remind myself of you until our date," Jonathan smirked. Snarling, you snatched the napkin and planted a big fat kiss on it, your lip stick rubbing off on it enough to satisfy Jonathan. "That'll be all, (Y/N). Pleasure doing business with you." Before Jonathan left, he felt a sense of boldness wash over him and he smirked once more. "Your lipstick's a little smudged, let me fix it for you."

Before you could reply, Jonathan had leaned over the bar and kissed you. You jumped back as Jonathan pulled away. With one last wink he turned and walked to the door. "I hate you," you had growled aloud.

"You won't be saying that on our wedding day," Jonathan replied, walking out of the bar without a second glance your way. The bastard was right, to your previous and current frustration.