Hard to Resist

Grimmjow walked through the doors of the underground arena with a devilish grin on his face. Some might have called it a sadistic grin ― actually most would call it that ― especially on him.

People knew that face. Especially in this world of bare fists and raw violence. They knew what it meant when Grimmjow Jeagerjaques grinned like a maniac, and strolled through the crowds of people to the edge of the makeshift ring, which was several feet below the rest of the audience.

Someone was going to be seriously hurt.

The huge man that was in charge of security, and keeping the spectators in check, crossed his thick arms over his wide chest and frowned as he spoke.

"Must have been a good day, eh?"

Grimmjow grinned even further, and flexed the muscles in his shoulder.

"Damn right."

The buff man sighed heavily, and opened the steel gate that barred entrance to the pit.

"Don't kill anyone, Jeagerjaques. The boss doesn't want to pick up the tab."

Grimmjow snorted. "Have I ever killed anyone, Yammy?"

"No, but you might."

"I'll be a good boy, and go easy on the poor bloke. Happy?"

The man just frowned and opened the gate, letting him enter, to go down the dozen or so steps.

The minute he stepped in the pit, crowds of people cheered and hooted for him, with the occasional boo in between. He smirked; Grimmjow didn't really care about the people liking him or not. He didn't do this for any of them.

He did it for himself.

For the thrill of the fight, and the ecstasy it brought him. He loved it more than anything. And as of right now, he was Las Noches' undefeated champion.

He was a beast in the cage. He slaughtered his opponents when he stepped in here.

This was his world. The imposing, steel confines of the Pit. The blank, white walls of the arena. The screaming throngs of people lusting for nothing more than spilled blood. Begging for it.

And he was the one to give it to them. Every week, sometimes several days back to back if he was on a bender. Other times he might disappear for a week or two. But he always, always came back to fight.

Without mercy.

And it was completely fantastic.

He tilted his head, and assessed the "poor bloke" that had challenged him today, or this extremely late evening, rather. The man was muscular, but that ended his good attributes. He looked pretty dumb, and had weird-looking shit on his face around his eyes and some Aztec looking tattoos on his chest. He stood in his corner chanting "Gonna kill you, gonna kill you" to himself.

This would be too easy.

Grimmjow shook his head, and took off his shirt, much to the delight of the women in the vicinity, and cracked his neck.

He was feeling especially generous today. He shifted from foot to foot, shaking out his hands. He might even let the douche hit him―once. Grimmjow put up his fists and grinned that same maniacal grin.

Yeah, he was in a fine mood; he had been all week.

Briefly, his thoughts went to his future whereabouts after this fight. And what exactly he'd be doing―with her.

He chuckled to himself, and thought about how mad she'd been when he told her that he was still fighting. She'd gone silent, and hadn't said a word, but he knew she was upset…worried even, about him. And that made him even more euphoric…

Grimmjow snapped out of his thoughts, and began to concentrate on knocking this fucker out, and leaving as soon as possible.

He'd show her that he was just fine. He'd show her thoroughly, just how alright he was.

Make no mistake, he wasn't the sentimental type. He simply wanted her.

That was it.

He had the guts to go to her when they both were miserable, and turn her unhappiness into passion.

And he never regretted a minute of it.

The bell above them rung, and the two fighters moved towards each other. The crowd was going insane, but he tuned all the noise out, and centered his attention on his opponent.

He grinned while lithely dodging the first punch, and landed one of his own. He heard the bones in the guy's ribs crack from the force of it, and said guy doubled over. He stumbled while trying to get up, finally coming back to his feet and getting into the fight again.

Grimmjow merely grinned and went in for the next attack.

A good day it was.

Now to finish this up and be on his way. He had some other things he needed to prove.


The following morning, Rukia walked confidently around the gallery, pleased with herself. The new changes were already being put into high gear, and showing signs of success. She glanced at the newly set up stage in the front left corner. The young woman, Nanao Ise, sung and also played the piano. The tones from her music were melodic, and they fit perfectly in with the atmosphere. She made a mental note to thank Kira once again for finding such a talent.

Her eyes traveled from the stage, to the art set up along the walls and displayed on the floor. She'd commissioned some new artists and people were very interested in their works.

Rukia was exceptionally surprised that there were so many people in here to day. It was a Thursday mid-afternoon, and yet the place was crawling with people. It excited her and assured her that Toshiro's advice was paying off. She went from greeting a family of four with two children ogling some clay sculptures, to helping an older businessman looking for a painting for his wife who adored art inspired from France's renaissance period, and many folks in between.

She made her rounds, and looked around for Momo, who was busy showing off some of their older artists' new pieces. After leaving Momo, her gaze searched for, and then focused on a man of the most unique caliber. He was studying the gallery art as intently as she.

Rukia's mouth tightened into a line, the man was very difficult for her to read, seeing as it appeared he only had one facial expression, but she knew he was an exceptional artist, and she truly wanted to contract him to paint for Rukon.

With a pleasant, but not overly warm look on her face, Rukia glided over to the dark haired man who was now focused on a painting in the center of the gallery. She knew which one it was, and it gave her the chills whenever she glanced at it, so she tried to avoid looking over to it, difficult as that was.

When she came over, he was the one to speak first.

"You have a unique gallery here, Ms. Kuchiki." He stated in plain, slightly cold voice.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Schiffer." She said easily. "Does this mean you've come to a decision yet?"

The man slowly turned his piercing emerald gaze on her, and Rukia held it firmly. A year ago, she would have balked at the idea of even approaching this man about painting for Rukon. It was quite possible that he would have laughed to her face, though she doubted he laughed at all. He was known to have been commissioned for some of the most avid and richest art collectors there were.

And now he was standing in her gallery.

Hopefully, considering her offer. He turned his body fully to her and asked. "Have you met XV?"

Well that was out of the blue.

"No, I have not. Why do you ask? Is it problematic that I showcase his work here?" She really hoped that he wasn't one of those types who didn't like other popular art shown along with their own.

"It is not a problem," he stated, turning back to the painting. "It simply reminds me of work I've seen in my college days." Before Rukia could inquire about his comment her went on. "I don't usually sign long standing contracts, Ms. Kuchiki. I paint for whom I please." He frowned. "Or not."

"I understand that, but perhaps a change of pace is in order," she replied calmly.

"Change…" the man glanced back at XV's newest painting and turned back to her. "Perhaps, but everything is not as it seems, Ms. Kuchiki."

And what did that mean? she thought.

Schiffer reached into his pants pocket and handed her a card. She took it, and he walked past her on his way to the door.

"I will return tomorrow at 10am."

On that note he left, and Rukia had to keep from beaming like a child. Ulquiorra Schiffer and XV showing paintings at her gallery. She never imagined it could happen. Turning back to the front of the gallery, she gave a thumbs-up to Momo, who sent her an air high-five.

Stuffing the card in her blazer jacket, Rukia continued to walk around the gallery, still contemplating Schiffer's cryptic sentences. With a sigh, she glanced back up at the only painting incased in protective glass.

A Woman Unknown.

The first in a series from XV. He would do five, and then the final piece on the night of the art festival. Rukia half expected Mr. Ishida to dismiss the idea when she proposed it, but he did not. In fact, he called her later on the same day, with a definite yes, that XV would go with the idea, and that he'd already started a new series anyway.

She glanced up at the piece; it wouldn't be up for bid until tomorrow, but the buzz surrounding it was tangible. And it was indeed something to talk about.

Rukia was surprised when she first laid eyes on it. It was different from his previous paintings, but definitely the most stunning.

And for some reason, she got goose bumps just looking at it. It felt so real to her, as if it spoke to her in some secret way.

It was rather simple. A woman lay down on her side, who was somewhat scandalously dressed in what only appeared to be a thin sheet or blanket over the lower part of her torso. She had milky white skin, and her back was facing the observer. One could see her hands wrapped around herself, as if she was protecting, maybe even shielding, herself from whatever she was afraid of.

Though her face was turned away from the viewer, it seemed her dark hair spilled over the lap of another―which she assumed was the woman's lover, considering the hand in her hair was masculine-looking.

It was simply beautiful, and intimate, but still… sad. If that was the right word. For Rukia gleaned another meaning from the painting other than a lover's embrace. It was more complex than that. The woman―the unknown woman―as XV had dubbed her, was there with her lover, but then again, she was not.

Physically she was there, but the way she held herself, it was like she was frightened of feeling the love or the embrace. Her lover was there holding her, but she was not returning the embrace. She didn't look at him, she wasn't even touching him, per se.

Rukia swallowed, and felt a pang of emotion the longer she looked at it.

That woman, she admitted, seemed a lot like her.

Too much for her liking.

With a spin on her heels, Rukia cleared her throat, and went over to speak with another patron.


Granz studied the computer screen in his office with the utmost interest. He soaked in the words as he read them, a hint of a smirk on his face, as he went over the records of one Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Very interesting." He said quietly.

He was extremely surprised that such a young man, with all of his life ahead of him, would choose to deliberately remain anonymous when he was so famous. XV's artwork was gaining more and more attention as the days passed, and yet, he didn't seem to want that attention in any sort of way.

He went to great lengths to keep his two lives separate.

It was intriguing, and would make his story that much better. Now all he needed was a little more information…

Granz lifted an eyebrow when his partner walked into his office, completely smug. He swore that if he didn't work with the man, and respect his blunt way of doing things, he'd despise him.

"Nnoitra." he called out briskly.

The other man plopped down in the soft chair by the door, and grinned. "So, Szayel, what are we gonna do about this? You planning on busting this Ichigo?"

He held a finger under his chin and sat back in the chair.

"Not quite yet. It's not the right time." He clicked his pen, "I'm waiting on some more information on this fellow, something that will bring this story together." He turned back to Nnoitra.

"I don't know what that missing factor is yet, but believe me, I will find it."

Nnoitra snorted and downed some coffee. "Yep, still a rat bastard, Szayel, you never change." He remarked with a grin.

Granz smirked, as he twirled the pen between two fingers, deep in thought. "Why thank you."


"Are you sure you're okay, Rukia?" Renji asked from the other line.

"For the last time, yes, I'm fine, Renji."

"Okay, it's just you left so suddenly yesterday, I though you were, you know, pissed at me or something."

"Did I have a reason to be pissed?" Rukia asked sarcastically

"W-well, I don't know." He stammered, clearing his throat. "Just to let you know, I wasn't flirting with that waitress."

Rukia snickered as she sat in the same Starbucks she was in yesterday, this time at a table next to the side entrance. When anyone came in, they'd be able to see her, not that she was expecting someone.

She sat at a large table with her laptop, and some documents that she needed to be filled out, while talking to Renji.

"Of course not, you were only absorbed in conversation with her for ten minutes, when I was sitting right there." she said, faking anger.

"Rukia, I swear it wasn't like th―"

"Oh c'mon Renji, I'm just kidding."

"Oh."

"But it's obvious that you're into her, so why not take her out?"

"What? Rukia―"

"For heaven's sake, Renji. We're never going to go out, so you shouldn't waste your life waiting." Rukia said bluntly, as she typed away on the keypad. "You're young and a bachelor, you two have stuff in common, aside from googly eyes, so just ask her out."

"B-but."

"Renji―I'm not headed in that direction anytime soon. You know I'll be your friend for life, you can even call me when you have girl problems, if you can get that far," she giggled, "But nothing more. So just take a chance with someone else."

He was silent for a minute, and coughed a few times. "Well, I don't know, I guess. I mean, my schedule's crazy. But maybe."

"Don't be such a wuss."

"I'm not." He snapped, and she laughed. "You know, Rukia…I'm not sure if you're honest with yourself either."

"About what?"

"You said that you weren't 'headed in that direction'― does that orange-headed guy know that?" Her fingers froze. "I may have being talking to Tatsuki, yes, I know her name, thank you, but I saw the two of you clear as day."

"Did you?" she said stiffly. "Then you would have seen that our conversation was not amicable."

"From the outside, it looked pretty flirty to me. He was liking it, and you didn't look so upset either. I'm a guy, remember? I can tell these things."

"Excuse me, I was not flirting."

"If you say so…" Rukia held the phone away when it began to vibrate. Ukitake was calling.

"Well, look, Renji, I have to take this phone call, so I'll see you around, okay?" She was anxious to have a reason to stop that next conversation before it started.

He sighed. "Alright, Ruki. I'll see you around….I just want you to be happy, alright? However you find that is all you."

"Thanks." she said weakly, and he hung up. With only a moment to regain her thoughts, she breathed in deeply, and answered Ukitake's call.

They had a nice catching up conversation about the gallery, and the new changes, and he was happy that she'd done this wonderfully by herself. After a few minutes of that, he brought up something on the side that he'd like her to consider doing.

"…So, this would just be a presentation to the kids about taking art into adulthood?" she asked.

Ukitake chuckled. "Not a presentation exactly, Rukia, they are children. It's just that it would be nice to inspire them, and talk a little about the gallery, for them to see that they don't need to leave it all behind when they grow up. You see what I mean?"

"I do." she answered, nodding. "And they have an art teacher, you say?"

"Yes, he works with them every Saturday. They love him from what I understand, and he will be there, right along with their actual teacher."

"Okay, sounds good. And this is for this upcoming Saturday?"

"Yes, it is. I will fax you the information. I apologize for the short notice."

"No worries, it's fine." she logged the information into her agenda. "Okay then, great. I'll be there."

"Wonderful, Rukia. I will see you again soon. And I'm happy you decided to do this."

"No problem, goodbye."

Rukia pressed the end button on her Palm Pre, and set it down on the table. She squinted an eye shut, and thought about this.

Kids.

Nine out of ten times, they made her want to shudder and run away. But Ukitake had obviously wanted her to visit them, so she wouldn't let him down. Maybe she'd text Senna to pick her up a few books on dealing with kids, she was at the mall anyway. Or perhaps not. She was probably in shopping frenzy over fabric and accessories and for the show.

Rukia sighed, and began working on the outline of her speech that she'd give to the kids. She was excellent at talking to people―well grown up people―but kids weren't that different…

She was shuddering already.

As she picked up her pencil, Rukia had just begun to write, when the side door to the café opened, and a rather exuberant family walked in. She looked up the moment she heard his voice, but then quickly looked down again.

Be cool Rukia, be cool. He might ignore you anyway.

She gripped her led pencil tighter and then set it down, opting for the laptop. She snuck a glance up, and saw that Ichigo was occupied seating his family, and hadn't looked her way yet.

"Stop bothering the employees, old man." Ichigo growled, pulling whom she presumed to be his father away from the counter. Rukia almost laughed when he set the man down in chair, and he pouted.

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair. "Why do we have to come here all the time, anyway?" he grumbled.

"Because you like buying overpriced, but delicious beverages for us." A girl with dark hair spoke up. He scowled at her, and she smirked, looking at the menu.

"Ichigo." The other girl with light brown hair said, tugging on his shirt. "I want the caramel one."

"Yeah, yeah, the usual. What about you, old man?"

"I want chocolate!" He said excitedly, "Oh, how Masaki always loved the sweet taste of chocolate. If she could see us now…" Ichigo rubbed his forehead scowling, likely regretting that he even asked. He went to the front, and placed their orders. Rukia watched him as discreetly as she could, feeling sorry for poor Hanataro who was apparently very intimidated by Ichigo.

Rukia looked around to notice people in the café giving his family looks, and whispering to themselves. They were a peculiar bunch, but they looked tight knit, humorous, and happy.

With a slight smile, she went back to semi-pretending to work, when she felt his eyes on her.

There was no mistaking his gaze, she always could feel it was him. How weird was that? After a minute of trying very hard not to acknowledge that she knew he was there, he spoke.

"Karin, Yuzu. Get your drinks and watch Dad."

"Of course we will, Brother. Have fun," one of the girls said. She was sure it was the dark-haired one, that one seemed to have a knack for sarcasm.

Rukia continued to type meaningless numbers into boxes on Excel, when a figure stopped in front of her table. She paused, and then looked up with what she hoped was a blank expression.

Again, he was a freaking giant. A handsome one, and standing within two feet of her. Rukia couldn't seem to stop the way her body felt when he was near, and it was so extremely irritating.

"Oh, Ichigo. Didn't know you were here."

"You always know from my family." He mused, taking in her small form. She smiled a little, and went back to filling in random boxes on screen. "So, what brings you here?" he asked easily.

"Catching up on some work." She said simply. Not looking at him, and still typing in meaningless words. A commotion from across the floor grabbed her attention.

"Hey, stupid dad. Stop doing that!" The dark-haired girl was attempting to pull the man by the ear, away form the merchandise on display. He was trying to pull out one of the coffee cups―they were set up in a triangle―from the bottom.

"That's Karin." Ichigo said without even glancing back.

"Karin, don't be so rough, you'll hurt him." a softer voice said.

"And that's Yuzu. Both my sisters, fraternal twins."

Said girl looked over and waved, beaming, as she pulled the man out of the door. He grinned animatedly upon seeing Ichigo with Rukia, and the one named Karin had to kick him, to prevent him from staying to watch.

Rukia chuckled. "And that man is your father."

"Bingo." He said, pulling out the chair opposite from her, and turning it around so when he sat down, his toned arms were set on the back of the chair. He rested his chin on his layered wrists and looked at her. "Ignore them, that's what I do."

Rukia stopped fake typing and toyed with her phone, not wanting to look at his face. They sat there in silence before she said.

"We had a new XV painting today."

"And what did you think of it?" he asked, as if he was waiting for her to bring the topic up.

"Brilliant."

"But how did it make you feel?" He pressed, and she looked up at him.

There was no conceited arrogance in his face, his amber eyes held such depth and sincerity, it shocked her. His brows were still furrowed, though, but that didn't bother her, it seemed as natural to him as breathing.

She put both her hands on the table. "I don't quite know."

"Did you not like it?"

"That's not it, it was amazing… I think, it's me."

"Why is that?" He asked softly.

"I guess because I see too many similarities between myself and this woman." She laughed shortly.

With a shift, Ichigo reached out and picked up one of her hands. His was very warm, and the feeling she was getting at their contact was unsettling her.

He turned her palm over, and traced the contours of the lines in her hand. "And what did you see?" He asked, his fingers ghosting over her hand, sending tremors across her skin. Rukia hoped that he didn't notice.

Ichigo looked up at her, his hand still caressing her own, his orange fringe falling a little into his eyes, and she realized how much she wanted to run her hands through his hair, just because.

Rukia halted breathing for a second, when he examined her. They didn't speak, but his eyes… his eyes told her to open up to him, and her heart was beating out of control, it was uncanny.

What the hell was it about him?

She had no idea, but he just took her from having a friendly conversation, to hoping that his hands went a whole lot further.

However he did it, he was making her lose the usually tight reign she had over her feelings.

Slowly, he moved his thumb up her hand, and underneath her thin, long sleeved sweater, to her wrist. His finger rested on her pulse, which she knew was accelerated more than the average heartbeat.

And now he knew it, too. Rukia was sure he could piece together why, if he hadn't already.

His fingers rested on her pulse, and he looked down, lifting her sleeve up, to expose her skin, and his fingers on her. She noted how lovely their skin looked together. He was a bit tan, and she was fairly pale, but they mixed nicely.

"No answer?" he asked. She couldn't see his eyes since his head was down, staring at their hands.

Rukia's mouth was dry, and she tried to answer his question.

"I saw…t-things I didn't like." she said unsteadily. His fingers trailed back down to her palm and he lifted it to his lips.

Before he could even touch her like that, Rukia pulled her hand back to herself, and cleared her throat. She stood up weakly, and he glanced up at her.

"I have to go…to the restroom. Um, excuse me."

Rukia scurried off to the restroom, feeling like a complete coward.

She turned the faucet on, and splashed water on her face, panting. She stood up and put her back to the wall, her hand reaching out to grab some towels to wipe her face with.

"Why is this happening? I can't be attracted to him," she whispered.

Oh, but she was. All she had to do was look at her own body.

Rukia unzipped her sweater and grazed her hand over a breast. The nipple was hard, and she almost cried at feeling this way again, after such a long time of not feeling anything but grief.

She didn't have to guess what the fabric between her legs was like, to know there was a definite attraction.

So, how long can you resist? her inner voice asked.

That was the real question.

How long could she resist him?

She shook her head. "I'm not ready for this. I can't do this."

Rukia turned her head to the cold wall and a few tears found their way from her eyes. She was deathly afraid of feeling any emotion other then indifference for the man.

Rukia's head snapped up when a knock came from the door.

"Rukia?" A familiar voice asked.

"Ichigo?" She asked.

"Yeah, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just a headache." Rukia said quickly wiping her face, and breathing in to regain her calm. She walked over to the door and opened it. He was standing a foot away, his hands crossed over his chest.

She plastered a smile on her face, and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just felt a little off balance." She said.

He scowled, and walked over to her. She took a step back, but he reached out, and felt the skin under her eye.

"Do your eyes always redden when you're 'off balance'?" He asked.

Rukia swallowed, and pushed his hand away. "I'm fine, Kurosaki," she said, shifting from foot to foot. The movement made her thighs brush against each other, and she almost hissed at the dampness there.

When she looked up, he was still watching her, but he placed his hands in his pockets.

"We should probably go, it's kind of weird for us to be chatting in front of the ladies' room." She said jokingly.

"I have to get back to my family, actually." He said scratching his head. "They'll barge in here soon if I don't herd them far away."

Rukia nodded, and Ichigo sighed.

"What?" Rukia asked.

He shook his head, and looked her up and down. He studied her posture, before coming back up to her face. Rukia could tell instantly, that he knew what was…wrong with her.

"Are you going to say something?" she asked tightly.

When she looked at him, his eyes were sultry and deep. She didn't want to know why he was looking at her that way. He looked how she felt at the moment, and that was a dangerous combination, given her volatile emotions.

He and turned around and said quietly. "You're really too hard on yourself, midget."

Rukia frowned and consider throwing her shoe at him.

"I left you a present over there, so don't ignore it." He added.

Ichigo went to the side door and opened it. He looked back at her one last time, his eyes saying things to her that she did not want to hear. Then he exited to join his family.

Rukia sighed in relief, slowly walking back to her table. She sat down, and picked up a folded napkin, that was cleverly situated on the keyboard of her laptop with her "work" still shown on it. Rukia cursed, but still opened the napkin.

Rukia,

Not everything that you think you see is wrong.

Give yourself enough room to just feel sometimes.

It's not as scary as you think.

Come by and see me soon.

Your waiter, Strawberry.

Rukia didn't realize that her hand was set over her violently beating heart, until she set the napkin down.

Once again, the million dollar question went off in her head.

How long can you resist?


Around eight that night, Grimmjow leisurely walked up a sidewalk, twisting his car keys around his left index finger. He might have even whistled, if you listened hard enough. He grinned deviously as he made his way up to an apartment building, taking the stairs around the side, and headed to the third floor.

He didn't need the light to see the numbers of the apartments, he knew the route that he was taking, even if he were blindfolded.

Round the corner, turn right, go all the way down to the second to last door.

He stopped in front of said door and stuffed his keys in a pocket. Grimmjow leaned on the door pane, and lifted his right hand―which was bandaged and slightly bloodied―to knock on the door, but his knuckles never met the wood.

The door opened before he knocked, and out poked a pretty, but worried face staring up at him. Her eyes went to his hand which was still in the air, and then frowned. The soft skin between her eyebrows crinkled a bit, and she seemed angry.

Grimmjow chuckled, and took a step up to her, touching her cheek.

"Don't look so sad, it's nothing." He said with a smirk.

She bit down on her lip and avoided his gaze. Grimmjow leaned down to her ear, and took in her light scent.

"If you kiss me, it'll make the pain go away." He said huskily, brushing his lips against her jaw line.

She pulled back and stared at him, breathing heavier than she was a minute ago. His face was serious, but a bit a smug.

His lover looked down at her feet, and beckoned him in, cheeks tinted a light pink. She closed the door behind them, and he tossed his jacket on the nearest chair.

"Did you miss me?"


Senna was completely drawn into the book she was reading, hungrily lapping up the words. She sat on a long bench by the "Life & Style for Women" section of the bookstore, which was right across from the newspapers.

There were a few tables situated in front of the long bench, and she sat her elbows on it, holding the book to her face.

How to Make Him Like You & Then Love You for Life. Senna had been dying to get this book forever, and so once she had the time, she rushed over to buy a copy.

It was good stuff, too, at least in her opinion. She lowered the book some, eyes glued to each page. She should be getting home by now, to start on those outfits she'd sketched, but she just wanted a little free time.

With a guilty glance at all the material she bought in the bags surrounding her, Senna turned back to her book.

Just fifteen more minutes, then 'llI go home, and work until midnight…or later.

As she read, Senna didn't notice the person over by the newspapers, who'd caught sight of her, and then strolled over. She kept reading, unaware of this person who sat on the same bench as she, glanced at her, then scooted over a little.

That didn't bother her―until the person scooted over again. She felt her personal space bubble become a little smaller, but paid no mind.

And then he slid over again.

She gripped her book harder. Okay, now she was annoyed.

Said male scooted over a little more, and she was ready to take out the fabric cutting scissors she bought, and brandish them on his ass, but she kept still.

And then she felt him staring…just openly staring at her, no modesty or anything. Giving up on her book, Senna snapped it shut angrily, ready to ask this guy what the fuck his problem was.

She turned around pissed, and then yelped at who she saw.

"H-Hisagi? What are you dong here?" she said, nearly falling off the bench.

He held up today's copy of Karakura Today, the local newspaper.

"I usually get this in the morning, but I didn't have time." he glanced at her book. "I see you're reading as well." he said slyly.

She blushed, and set the book down. This was awkward. She shifted around on the bench avoiding his gaze.

"I have to ask―"

"Don't," she cut him off.

"I will anyway." She glared at him, but he ignored it, and reached for her book.

"Hey, I paid for that." she huffed, as he dangled it in front of himself.

"Anyone in particular you reading this for?" He asked.

"No," she replied curtly.

"Then why on earth do you even need to read this?" she glanced up, he was asking her seriously.

"Why do you care?"

"Senna," he said firmly. "You don't need this." He plopped the book back on her table. "All you need to do is cut yourself some slack."

"And go out with you, right?" She asked sarcastically.

"Yes. But regardless, you'd never need that. You're beautiful, talented, and kin―"

"Ha! You don't know me very well." She said narrowing eyes, trying to keep from blushing.

"You don't give me a chance to."

"I don't want to."

"I think that you do, but you're looking to Miss Write-A-Crappy-Book here to tell you what to do about it, when all you have to do is pick up a phone."

"I am not going to chase after you." she snapped.

"If I recall, I've been chasing you," he set his paper down. "Park, skates, you on top of me, remember?" He smirked.

"Don't bring that up!" she fumed.

"And you still haven't answered my question from that time." Hisagi added.

"I don't plan on it."

"Scared?"

"No."

"Then go out with me."

"No."

"Then you're scared."

"I'm not!" she said loudly, getting mean looks from people around them.

"Prove it."

Senna bit her lip and glared, but Hisagi was holding her gaze as if she were just smiling at him. He didn't even look upset, he was just waiting for her to answer.

It was a trick, she knew it. If she said no, she was a coward. If she said yes, he won a date. Which was worse?

"Why do you keep bothering me?" she asked. He laughed and her cheeks reddened.

"Because I know that you're worth it."

"You don't anything about me, and if you did you'd have run away by now."

"So try me, Senna." He reached out and turned her face to him. "Try me."

Her bottom lip quivered a little, and she tried to think of another excuse, but her brain couldn't come up with anything. Senna grasped his hand, pulling it away, and he put hers quickly to his lips, before she stood up, taking her hand back.

Senna gathered all her bags, and took a step away from the bench. She stood there for a minute before turning back to face him.

And thus, she gave up.

"I choose wherever it is that we go."

"Alright." Hisagi replied, grinning.

"And it won't be some fancy place. It'll be really public, nothing much." He nodded. "So…don't wear anything," he raised an eyebrow, and she blushed, waving her hands up. I-I mean…don't wear….um, wear jeans. Jeans, yes, wear that." She said stuttering.

Stupid mouth, the thing doesn't work.

"That's fine," he said with a grin.

Senna looked around at other things. "OkayI'llcallyouthen." She said quickly.

"Will you, really?" He asked seriously. Senna nodded, staring at her hands now. Hisagi stood up, and lifted her chin.

"It's a deal, then."