Everyone who was anyone knew that Nakiri Alice, the new head of Nakiri International and owner-chef of haute cuisine restaurants like Vapor in Tokyo and Deconstruct Denmark, did not cater. Ever.
Every dish she created was an individual jewel of innovation, a gastronomical research project in miniature. Her work simply couldn't be mass-produced. But after a series of unforeseeable events that included shameless begging, international politics, and first-row tickets to New York Fashion Week, Alice had catered a platinum wedding. Her food, of course, had been the highlight of the evening. But in her opinion, everything else about the festivities, though obscenely expensive, had been disappointing at best.
"You should have seen it, babe," she said as her former aide drove them back to their Copenhagen penthouse. "The bridesmaids were all in this swamp green color, and their dresses weren't even the same. And don't even get me started on those floral arrangements. I could have planned one so much better, don't you think?"
"Sure."
"At least say it with some more enthusiasm!"
At this Ryo sighed, mostly focused on the road ahead—much to his long-time girlfriend's irritation. "I'm sure you would have planned a better wedding because you excel at everything. Happy?"
"It'll do," she said. And normally that would have been enough to appease her. But later that evening as they reclined in bed, about to turn in for the night, she started up again.
"You know, Ryo," she said, gazing up at him through bleary eyes. "The toasts at the reception were so boring. Our friends would make much better toasts."
"What does it matter?"
"I don't know." Alice shrugged, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. But in a few minutes she was up again, commenting on everything from the rings to the vows to quality of silk in the best man's tie.
Needless to say, neither of them got much sleep that night.
The nitpicking continued in the days to come, taking up almost every second of their conversations. When Alice started it up again that Friday evening, as soon as she came home from the lab, Ryo sighed and tossed a small black box at her.
"What's this?" she asked after she fumbled to catch it. Alice crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed that he'd interrupted her rant.
"Open it," he said. With an exaggerated sigh, she did as he asked and found a huge solitaire diamond from Cartier on an elegant platinum band.
"Babe," Alice gushed as she slid the ring onto her third finger. Naturally, it was a perfect fit. "How are we not married already?" It really was an oversight. They had officially started dating during their third year at Tōtsuki and never stayed broken up for longer than forty-eight hours.
He shrugged. "Never seemed necessary."
"True."
"But if you hated that wedding so much, just plan your own."
"Oh, Ryo," she said with a wide smirk. "Why on earth would I plan my own wedding when I can get Erina and Hishoko to do it for me?"
Erina had been prepared for every aspect of the wedding. With steadfast assistance from Hisako, she had found the perfect asymmetrical wedding dress to symbolize her cousin's playful, avant-garde style. She had arranged and rearranged the seating chart so every Tōtsuki alum, extended family member, and pillar of the scientific community would be content with his or her placement. She had tasted cake after cake after goddamn cake until she found one that was beautiful and edgy enough for the occasion, but unsullied by the glorified plaster that was fondant frosting.
Erina had been ready for all of this and more, but her nerves of steel were all but melted down the moment he checked into the hotel.
Despite the fact that she had promised herself she wouldn't, Erina had known that she was going to sleep with him the second he smiled at her in the lobby and said, "Yo, Nakiri." It had happened for the first time when they returned to Tōtsuki friendship and rapport camp as alumni. Then there was Isshiki-senpai's wedding, and the informal class reunion Alice had planned two years back. At this particular point, it seemed like it was their biological imperative to do it every time they happened to be on the same continent—which truly wasn't as often as one would think.
For years she had tried to convince herself that it was only physical, that she was only entertaining herself. But every time he left her in the morning to jet halfway around the world, a quiet sadness fell over her. Sometimes it took her weeks to snap out of it. So in the interest of not carrying on like a lovesick maiden for the better part of a month, she had decided to steer clear of him.
But while her eyes were still misty from the vows and the cutting of the cake and all the toasts, he'd asked her for one dance. And as it always seemed to, one dance led to one kiss. Then two. Then ten. And then, after the newlyweds left the reception to embark on their honeymoon, after Hisako disappeared and all their married friends decided to retire for the evening, Erina found herself up in his hotel room.
The next morning, the Nakiri heiress woke up to the sound of Souma's alarm blaring. The man in question, now one of the world's most renowned chefs, kept sleeping, completely unperturbed by the noise. Erina scowled, sorely tempted to press the snooze button and pretend she'd never heard it.
But that wouldn't be right.
"Yukihira," she said quietly, nudging him with her foot. The only response she received was a pronounced snore. Honestly, she should have known better. "Hey, Yukihira." She shook his shoulder gently. "Get up." When he still didn't stir, Erina took the only sensible course of action. She whacked him over the head with a pillow. Repeatedly.
He woke with a start. "What was all that for?"
"You're going to miss your flight to…" She paused. Paris? Prague? She could never keep track. "Wherever it is that you're going this time. Not that I particularly care."
"Rio," he said with a lazy smile before he rolled out of bed. "And thanks for waking me up."
"Whatever." Erina eyed her violet colored bridesmaid dress on the floor and wondered if she should leave first. It was his room, after all. "I've never been to Rio."
"Come with me, then," he called to her from the bathroom, where he was hellbent on expediting his usual primadonna-like morning routine.
"What?" Erina asked. She must have heard him wrong over the shower.
"Come to Rio," he repeated. "You'll like it."
Erina rolled her eyes. Would she like to go fuck off with him in Rio? Certainly. But she also had three restaurants, a hotel empire, and the finest culinary arts academy in Japan to preside over. "Even if I wanted to, you know I can't do something like that."
"What?"
"I mean I can't just drop everything and go on vacation."
"What about orientation?"
"Oh my…" She exhaled slowly. "I SAID I CAN'T GO!"
After a few more minutes, the water shut off. Souma emerged from the shower in just a towel, his hair dripping in a way that Erina had always found attractive. She nibbled her lower lip.
"So no Rio?" he asked her.
"I looked at my calendar," she said, pulling out her smartphone. "I could maybe get over there the week of the 17th if I move a few things around." Then he shot her a sheepish smile that told her it wasn't going to work.
"I'll be at a culinary festival in Auckland then. But I could be in Brazil again around the fourth of next month."
Erina sighed, rubbing her temples. "I would, but the Autumn Elections at Tōtsuki are starting around then. I have to be there."
"Right, right," he said. "Well, what if—"
"Just forget it," she said, stepping back into her gown. They always did this, made plans that were destined to fall through. The disappointment was exhausting; she didn't have time for it. "It's not like I need someone like you to take me places. I have a private jet." Then, tired of fumbling with the back of her dress, she turned to him. "Zip this thing up for me."
"Sure." And after he did this, his lips landed on her right shoulder and moved slowly up the curve of her neck. Erina's eyes drew closed and her head tilted to the left.
"Are you sure you want to start this, Yukihira?" she asked. "You're going to miss your flight."
"You have a private jet," he said, smirking. And then he kissed her once, twice, a hundred times, and the zipper slid down again.
She would tell him, in fifteen minutes or so, that she hadn't brought the jet with her.
About an hour later, after she had returned to her room and showered, Erina padded down the hallway to Hisako's room. Steadfastly pursuing her doctorate in nutrition while running two restaurants and acting as a culinary consultant for the World Health Organization, she was the perfect person to give Erina the don't-let-a-man-distract-you pep talk she needed. She knocked three times, and after a great deal of shuffling around inside the room, her friend opened the door just a crack.
"Oh, Erina-sama," she said, smoothing down her sleep-matted hair. "How are you this morning?"
"Hisako, I screwed up." Erina lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushed. "Twice. Even after I decided I was done with him."
"With Yukihira-kun?" she asked. When Erina nodded, Hisako's expression seemed to morph into one of relief. That was strange. "Well, don't be too hard on yourself. These things happen to all of us."
"Yes! But I don't know how it keeps happening. He's always so infuriating!"
"I thought you were good with his cooking now," Hisako said, lowering her voice and glancing back into her room.
"I mean, I suppose he's not quite a second rate chef," she admitted, her arms crossed over her chest. "Still not on my level, but passable, I guess."
"Then what's—"
"I don't know. It's just annoying when someone can't stay put for more than five minutes."
"Erina-sama." Hisako flashed her a knowing smile. "Have you ever tried telling him that?"
"A-absolutely not!" Erina gave her hair a strong flip, as though she needed to bat the suggestion away from her. "I don't need him getting the wrong impression."
"And that would be?" Hisako asked.
"Thinking that I want him around or something."
"But isn't that—"
"Anyway, why don't you get dressed and then we can have brunch in that little restaurant down in the lobby."
"Well," Hisako said timidly. "About that…"
And then it dawned on Erina that she was still standing in the doorway. The only time Hisako didn't invite her in and offer her tea right away was when…
"Hayama's in there, isn't he?" Erina asked, her voice stern. Hisako could only look down in response. Erina shook her head. Once again, she had lost the bet to Alice. "Hisako, we've talked about this. Long distance does not work, and you cannot be casual with someone you've been dating on and off since high school."
"I know, you're completely right, but it's different this time."
Erina raised an incredulous eyebrow. "How so?"
"He's moving back to Tokyo."
"Oh." Well, that was different.
Then Erina really looked at her friend, at the hopeful glint in her eyes, and started to think that it might just work out between them. And if he broke her heart again, she could always use all her influence and resources to ruin his career, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that. She clasped Hisako's hands. "Have fun," she said. "And no kids until you finish your dissertation!"
The next time all the friends were gathered was for Megumi and Takumi's wedding seven months later. Erina found Souma sitting at the bar with a whiskey on the rocks, and for the first time since they met, she approached him first. Or rather, she sat next to him, ordered a classic martini, and glowered in his general direction until he looked at her.
"Nakiri," he greeted.
"If you didn't come here to object, you have no right to mope around," she said sternly. After they graduated from Tōtsuki, Souma and Megumi had dated for a couple of years and traveled the world together. They had won the 'best couple' superlative in their high school yearbook, much to Alice's consternation, and many speculated that if Doujima-san hadn't suddenly offered her the position to head the European division of the Tōtsuki Resorts empire, they'd be making their second or third trip around the globe.
"Who's moping?" he asked her with a cheeky grin. "They're happy."
Erina eyed him while she sipped her drink. "Are you?"
"It's not like you to get so philosophical, Nakiri," he said.
"Only a dullard would consider such a simple question philosophical." Erina finished her martini in one gulp and ordered another. As she drummed her freshly manicured nails on the table, she wondered if he was still in love with Megumi, and if it would matter to Megumi if he was, and why she kept asking herself questions she really didn't want to know the answers to.
Souma only shrugged. "You always did say I was stupid."
"For a variety of reasons." She tried to hide her smile behind the rim of her martini glass. "Where are you headed after this?"
"Back to New York," he said. That was where his 'permanent' residence and flagship restaurant were located, though he probably spent fewer than three months there each year.
"Will you still be there a week from now?" she asked. "I have an interview with Food & Wine so…"
"I'll take you to brunch."
Erina gave a little snorting laugh, shaking her head. It wasn't much, she knew, but it was the first time their schedules had ever lined up, and the sentimental, shoujo manga reading side of her decided to see it as a sign.
"Let's hope your tastes have evolved in the years since we graduated."
Author's Notes: This fic has been on Tumblr for a while, but I decided to compile the chapters here to make the story a bit more reader friendly. Thanks for reading, everyone, and have a great weekend!