Sorry for the reupload! Was going to post new chapter but accidentally deleted story...Will see an update soon!
Basic Summary...
Orihime Inoue had a crush on Ichigo Kurosaki for a long time, six years to be exact. Ichigo is a successful doctor in New York but with a bad habit of womanizing. He likes to say it's because he didn't meet 'the one' yet. Enter Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, Orihime's first flaming affair. He shows her the potential she holds and introduce her to a different world of luxury. By pure chance, Orihime runs into Byakuya Kuchiki who owns a conglomerate empire and later takes an interest in the passionate musician. As Orihime begins to bloom into a flirt, Ichigo watches with disapproval and tries to reason with her changing nature...But it is already the beginning of an avalanche.
Ratings may go up and a disclaimer on any copyrighted merchandises used in the story!
Chapter one
Twenty fucking two years old.
Happy birthday to me. Yeah, I was born on a beautiful and snowy morning in New Jersey the week before Valentine's Day. Friends called me almost Cupid before...Maybe that's why I still got no money, no boyfriend and no coffee.
As I checked the time on my fake Dior watch I bought from a sketchy Chinese vendor for twenty five sweet bucks, I quickly hustled my way towards the nearest Starbucks. The line up didn't look too bad for a lunch break hour in New York City. The wait looked like it'd be another ten minutes before I could smell the sweet aroma of a frosty caramel macchiato. At least out of the three, the one thing I could afford at this point in my life was an overpriced tall size white cup with the green Mona Lisa look-alike mermaid branded on to it.
Since the bitchy looking lady with a crisp power suit and a Fendi bag seemed like she was taking her rich time with her senseless long list of order at the cost of a well-deserved eyeroll from the poor employee who had to ring it up, I took out my job application to give it a glance-over for a final seal of approval.
"Did you just roll your eye at me?" I heard the lady screaming. Make that a fifteen minute wait.
After seventeen golden years of my life spent chasing after a fruitless dream of becoming a classical pianist, I finally decided to grow downwards to the average Starbucks-drinking, nine to five working slave chained to a capitalism driven country. Yeah, I'm going to be a fucking assistant secretary. Excuse my french. My best friend always jokingly told me that I speak three languages exceptionally. Sarcasm, profanity and body language. I seriously have no idea where she got the last one from. My body language would be the closest in resemblance to a stick with the flexibility of a virgin. That too. Twenty fucking two and still a virgin.
Speak of the devil. As my phone begin to obnoxiously vibrate against my pelvis, I struggled to take it out whilst holding my application in a busy lineup area.
"Tatsuki, I'm at Starbucks." I should perhaps mention my tall best friend was the reason I scored this interview with the infamously glamorous Edge magazine. With her tall graceful stride and edgy ebony rockstar hair, Tatsuki fit her editor job description at Edge to a tee.
"Hime, tell me if blue or pink looks better on me." I laughed. Tatsuki looked fantastic in anything.
"I'd say you look fucking fabulous in anything but if I had to choose one, pink is your color."
"See!" I can hear her telling her boyfriend, Uryu how pink is automatically a more fabulous color than blue as the line go dead. If anyone knew better about my being a virgin but also with a shockingly strange addiction to porn and an embarrassing curiosity for sex, it was Tatsuki. Since the lineup was moving forward, I tucked my phone in my purse. Just as I was about to tuck my job application back in, the bitchy power suit eyeroll intolerable lady ran into me with her grande fancily customized drink. Make that one scorchingly hot one.
"Ow!" I couldn't help grimacing as the burning liquid drenched my white silk chiffon blouse and burgundy wool pencil skirt. When Tatsuki told me to look my best but still conservative, I didn't imagine that I'd have a coffee stain to go with it. My job application looked like it was in a worse shape than me as it laid over the rest of the spill on the floor.
"Just when I thought my day couldn't get worse!" The lady screamed at me. I couldn't help but let the tears flow as my arm and midriff stung. "Don't you dare cry, you..."
"I would suggest to you before you say anything else that would only embarrass yourself any further is to apologize to this young lady. It seems like she might have to go to the hospital and if she decides to sue you for compensation, I'd be very delighted to offer her my help." He gave her his card as the crowd cheered for him.
He must've been one intimidating guy since the lady, still angrily, grumbled a quick 'Sorry' and dashed out of the overcrowded cafe before anyone could say anything.
"Are you okay?" He asked as he gently pulled me out of the line. Wow. I stared like the unsubtle gaping fish I became.
He was dropdead fuckable. Again, please excuse my usage of swear words but he was just so gorgeous. Piercingly icy violet eyes and swept back dark hair like a movie star, skin like porcelain and broad shoulders in a midnight black suit. He must have mistook my stunned look as an aftermath reaction from the coffee injury than the truth which is just me staring at him. I guess he felt uncomfortable since he broke eye contact to pick something up from the ground. It looked like several pieces of paper all bearing my information on it.
Suddenly remembering my job application, my senses started returning to the present.
"Oh no! It's all wet and brown!" My voiced was etched with panic. "I can't give them this at the interview! It looks like it's shitstained! And I look like the toilet blew up on me!" Along with my senses, I guess my potty mouth returned. I clasped a hand over my mouth. No wonder I still don't have anyone asking me out on a date.
"Well, if they are sensible at all, I assume they'll know it's coffee." Effortlessly, he gave me his hand. "I'm Byakuya."
Before I can take it with my slightly pink one, I noticed the time on his shiny gold Rolex. I grabbed his hand and pulled it towards me to check the time.
"I'm late!" I dashed to the exit but before I could leave, I ran back to him and gave him a quick hug.
"Thank you so much!" With that I ran.
Chapter two
How fucking brilliant of me.
I cried myself to sleep after Tatsuki furiously yelled at me. Being the kind-hearted best friend she was, she wasn't even mad at me missing the interview and her having to make excuses to her senior editor-in-chief. However, she was raging at the lack of confrontation I gave to the bitchy lady who gave me a mild first-degree burn. She was right about me being a coward.
I heard a knock at the door.
"Girl, have some cream broccoli soup. Your favorite."
"Thanks." I mumbled. As I got out of my bed.
"I was just thinking." She looked at me thoughtfully. "Maybe it's just not meant to be. When you told me, you're going to look for an office job, I honestly wanted to tell you that you're doing it again. Running away at the first sight of obstacle. I know, it's hard but if there's anyone who can do it, it's you."
Suddenly, the lights go out and I see something fiery coming towards me.
"Happy birthday to you!" Uryu began to sing. Ichigo was holding the cake. After an untuned awful chorus of happy birthday, my humor returned.
"You three." I said joyfully as I blew out the cake with a strong puff. Tatsuki looped her arms around me as Ichigo and Uryu sat in the couch in front of us. I haven't seen that face in awhile. Ichigo was my first crush but after finding out about his serial womanizing problems, I unsurprisingly friendzoned myself to him. His latest conquest was the infamously beautiful Russian ballerina who had legs that goes on for miles and cheekbones to die for framing her bambi eyes. Talk about competition.
Honestly, I wasn't hideous. With my thick mane of auburn hair and long lashes, Tatsuki told me I could pass off as Olivia Hussey, if I tried. Yeah, if I tried.
I observed Ichigo's chiseled jaw line and deep boyish dimples. His spiky blonde hair fell above his glistening brown eyes. He was smiling at me.
"Hey kiddo, heard you had a rough one today." With the exception of me, they were all in their late twenties. Tatsuki and Ichigo were childhood friends and Uryu was his room mate before Ichigo moved out after finding a place of his own. When I started my freshman year as a music student, I ran into Uryu accidentally with my bike. We bonded over a few stitches and became good friends. He was dating Tatsuki and when we were all introduced to each other, we all became best friends and soon I moved in with Tatsuki. Whereas everyone called me my nickname, Hime, Ichigo insisted on calling me kiddo.
"I'm okay." I answered as I cut a huge slice of chocolate cake for him.
"She's ok physically but not mentally. Ichigo, will you tell Hime how utterly retarded she is for her to give up her dream now? She keeps making me feel miserable by telling me she's too old. Since when did twenty two become fucking old?" Tatsuki rolled her eyes.
"Hime, let me take a look at your hands." Uryu carefully observed them. "You're lucky. Just don't forget to put some ointment on it." Uryu and Ichigo are doctors at NYU hospital. After passing everyone a plate, I finally cut myself a huge slice.
"By the way, Ichigo who are you taking to the Charity Valentine's Gala next week?" Uryu asked. I looked away pretending I was occupied with my hand. "I hear you might be taking Kuchiki Rukia."
"Kuchiki? Can't be related to the Kuchiki Byakuya?" Tatsuki edged closer to them. "He's a fashion icon! Being a rich business tycoon and having movie star looks, women can't kiss his ass enough! I've been trying my whole job to interview him, that bastard!"
"He doesn't do interviews?" I asked.
"No. People born with a diamond spoon in his case, don't do interviews." Tatsuki answered. "So Ichigo, are you fucking his sister or something?"
"Language." Ichigo warned but it must be true since he wasn't denying the accusations. It hit a core for me but I, being used to it, ignored it without a problem.
"Why don't you take Orihime, if you're not taking anyone?" Uryu suggested. Both Tatsuki and I sent a glare in his direction. Before I could say anything about being busy that day, Ichigo interrupted my thoughts.
"Actually, I was going to. Orihime, why don't you be my date for the gala?" My heart felt a jolt as Ichigo bore into my eyes. Before the heart palpitations could get worse, he added. "As friends, of course."
Boo him. Stupid fucking strawberry head. I hid my disappointment and nodded.
"Sure, why not?" I took another slice of cake seeing if I could kill myself with a calorie overdose. As friends...no matter how many times I tried getting over it, it still stung. I've liked him for six years. For six fucking years, he would come to me for my counsel about the women he wanted to woo and woo he did almost too well. Tatsuki knew and told me, I could do so much better than him...but I never told her how his glistening brown eyes will always have a special place in me.
Chapter three
After a few days, I looked at a giant billboard hanging over Carnegie Hall. Blazing turquoise hair tousled over equally stunning pale eyes. He was a superstar. I already bought a ticket to watch this beautiful specimen playing the Rachmaninoff Concerto no.3 with the New York Philharmonic. Not only is it considered one of the most difficult pieces to play with its insane technical passages but it was downright heart wrenching with all the Russian harmony completing the frenzied pulse. The international french pianist, Grimmjow Jeagerjacques playing Rach third. Wouldn't miss that for anything. I pulled my coat closer as I walked into a classy piano bar. After much lecturing from Tatsuki, I tried to give music another go. It wasn't much but a part-time job at a piano bar was better than nothing. Since they had plenty of jazz musicians, they were looking for someone classically trained. That wasn't too bad I thought until they told me what to wear.
I was dressed in a long beaded black gown with a slit coming up to my mid-thigh when I marched my way up to the instrument. I carefully looked around the room and started to play. Starting with Debussy Arabesque, I ventured into a soft Ravel piece my late father loved. Pavane pour une enfante defunte. The composer had described the piece as an "evocation...that a little princess might, in former times, have danced at the Spanish court". The music enlightened me and triggered stormy memories of my adolescence. Being completely captured my the music, I did not notice a tall figure observing my playing from behind. After caressing the last chord, I heard someone clapping behind me.
"That was very good." His accent was non-mistakenly french. My eyes could almost fall out of its sockets. It's him...
Grimmjow Jeagerjacques.
I can see his eyes doing a glance over at my figure. A light smirk traced his full kissable lips. Fuck! What am I thinking? I knew a noticeable blush was already rising up. It's not everyday a girl gets to see her celebrity crush.
"Merci." I replied rather huskily. I never even knew my voice could do that.
"So you do speak the language?" He challenged.
**"Oui, je peux mais je prefere l'anglais. C'est plus facile pour moi." I returned it. He seemed pleased.
"Can I buy you a drink, if you're not busy?"
"I'm sorry. I'm not on break until another half an hour." I couldn't hide my disappointment.
"I'll see you then. In the meantime, I don't mind listening to you play." He motioned the piano to me and charmingly walked to the bar. Oh boy, the nerves were beyond controllable. I get to play for him! I just couldn't believe it. With a quick 'Shut up, heart,' I sat myself back down at the piano. What was I going to play? After a year of no practicing, not many repertoire were under my fingertips but I had to try. I tried some Chopin. The Fantasie. My favorite piece. It wasn't really until Ichigo and I went to see a live performance by Yundi Li, I became completely enamored by it. The swirls of color and never ending blissful harmonies gave me such an excitement. After finishing the last chord, I started playing a dazzling arrangement of the Strauss Fledermaus opera by Grunfeld. Being completely immersed in the hypnotic waltz rhythm, I hit the last octave with gusto and the whole bar cheered. I couldn't help taking a small shy bow.
The manager happily came up to me and asked if I could come to play every Sundays. Finally, I made my way towards the teal haired concert pianist. I hope he enjoyed it too. His smile implied he did.
"You should play in bigger places." He started.
"Really? I'm not good enough." I answered truthfully. I can see his eyebrow twitching.
"Why do you say that? I think you play well." He leaned closer so I could smell his cologne and whispered into my ears. "Beautiful too." I felt my breathing stop then. Butterflies were storming inside me. I coughed nervously and gulped whatever was in the cup in front of me which was alcoholic. I coughed some more. Oh fucking great. Here was my dream guy flirting with me and I might just die from a nervous choking fit.
"Are you okay?" He asked concernedly and helped to some water.
"Yes." I piped out. "Thank you..."
"Are you a student?" He asked.
"No, not anymore. I just graduated my undergraduate last year."
"No auditions or competitions?"
"I told you, I don't think I'm good enough."
"You should keep trying. You have lots of potential." He paused. "I had plenty of those thoughts before. Sometimes even now."
"No way."
"It's true. When you stop, that's when you fail." I considered it. His words rang and at that moment I knew I had to push myself. Otherwise, I'll never find out what I could be.
"I guess you're right."
"Say, I think I'll be in town for another week after the concert. Do you think you can show me around?" He asked me.
I think my ovaries exploded at those words. Me? Showing Grimmjow Jeagerjacques around New York?
"Yes! I can do that." It was then I knew a big change was coming for me.