Wow, has it really been two weeks already since the last update? Where'd the time go?

Happy Friday!

Throughout my adult life, I have never once thought that there could be something that's unattainable to me. From the moment I set my heart on making a name for myself as an actor, I've always had clear goals, things that I would work hard for. Goals that I'd inevitably achieved no matter how farfetched they might've seemed at first. Awards, stardom, lovers - it's not always easy, of course, but I've never failed.

Not. Even. Once.

Then, bam, Kurosaki comes along.

It's been one fucking month. That's how long we haven't spoken to each other. Urahara keeps him busy, and he seems to be enjoying his job. He's smiling a lot more, his eyes seem brighter, more energetic. Except, of course, those smiles are never directed at me. He's not outright hostile towards me, but on the rare occasion where he happens to walk by me, his face is always a frigid mask. Hell, I think he's friendlier to my trailer wheels than to me.

Still, I refuse to admit defeat. Ayasegawa thinks that I'm in denial. Madarame thinks it's hilarious. Abarai...I don't know what Abarai thinks, because he left the project not long after the incident. His movie character has died, after all. I don't know if he ever went out on that date with Kurosaki. The skinny blonde intern says he doesn't know either, but I'm not sure if I believe him.

The thing that bothers me is, I don't understand why I'm so hung up on Kurosaki. He's hot as sin, sure, but I've seen better-looking men in this line of work, although I haven't met any who crackles with as much fire as Kurosaki. He's the first person to ever hit me, and he really wasn't kidding when he said he didn't feel sorry for doing that.

Maybe it's like that saying, you know, how people always want what they can't have. It pisses me off to think that I might just be like everybody else. I'm Grimmjow fucking Jaegerjaques, I'm not supposed to fit into any mold or be just like any Tom, Dick, and Harry out there. But here I am, lusting after what I can't have like a fucking loser.

Pathetic.

I've gotten so used to having him around that I actually find myself missing his presence, his biting remarks, his indignant protests whenever I ask him to do something ridiculous. I had enjoyed riling him up just to see him all flustered and annoyed, and now it feels strange not to be able to do it anymore. It's like I have nothing to really look forward to when I wake up every day.

I've lost count of how many times I've peered out between the blinds in my trailer just to see him bustle around the sets. He's very easy to spot, his vibrant, Hawaiian sunset-like hair sticking out like a beacon. I don't know if it's just me, but he seems to have become taller, buffer, more grown-up. His hair has gotten a little longer, his skin a little more tanned. He still walks around wearing those slim-fitting "come grope me" pants and body-hugging t-shirts that shows off his lean build. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can almost picture him straddling my hips, gazing down at me hungrily the way he used to last time.

Shit, how the hell did it come to this? I really thought I had him in my palms. I had been so certain of it.

Goddamnit.

I've never felt so free in my life; free from distractions, annoying, narcissistic actors, and unwanted exposure to naked bodies. Urahara is an amazing mentor. He's strict, but not in the sadistic way like Kenpachi. Urahara has a way of making people feel guilty for not performing without raising his voice. Just one brief glance from his soft grey eyes and people want to hide inside their shoes. Luckily, I haven't gotten that look so far, although I've seen it happen to Hanatarou more times than I can count. The poor sap, really. Maybe he should consider a career change.

I never went on that date with Renji. I'm sure he's a great guy, but the way he treated me, like I'm some helpless damsel in distress, really turned me off.

Other than that, things are going really great for me. I'm finally doing what I'm passionate about, I don't have to put up with absurd demands every day, or worry about being randomly subjected to the sight of some pervert's junk. Perfectly manicured, very well endowed junk, if I may add, but still...I'm so over it.

I haven't talked to Jaegerjaques since that stupid incident. I have absolutely nothing to say to him, and even if I have, I don't want to talk to him. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to deter him from leering at me every chance he gets. He probably thinks he's being real subtle, but I can see his face through the window blinds of his trailer. I don't know if he's just stupid, or if he thinks that I'm fucking blind. Throughout the day, even when I don't see him there, I can feel him watching me.

To be honest, it creeps the fuck out of me, but a sick, sick part of me, somewhere deep, deep, deep down inside, I feel just the tiniest hint of pride. I mean, come on. Do you know how many people out there would kill to be within one foot of this guy? Yet here he is, ogling at me all day like I'm the last man on the planet.

Yeah. It does all kinds of good things to my ego.

Still, that doesn't stop me from avoiding him like the plague. I don't even try to thank him for saving my job, in case he takes that as an invitation to jump into my pants. I don't want him to get any funny ideas.

Shinji, however, thinks this is a complete waste of a golden opportunity. He says I should've stuck by Jaegerjaques, maybe get laid by him one day. I think he's just desperate for gossip, that blonde bastard. Uryuu, on the other hand, remains neutral; neither supporting nor objecting to my decision. He just rolls his eyes whenever Shinji whines about how boring this internship is going to be now that he has lost his only source of entertainment.

So, yes, life can't get any better.

I give up.

I can't take this anymore. I can't sit around waiting for the kid to come to his senses. My limbs itch every time I see him parading around in those tight, ass-hugging pants of his. Pants that I badly want to get into. Really badly.

He doesn't want to make the first move? Fine. I will. I'll layer on the charm and tone down the asshole inside of me, just this once. Hell, I'll even toss in a little present for him - a bottle of Henry Weinhard's cream soda. He'd mentioned before that it's his favorite drink. I'd like to see him resist that.

I wait until he disappears into Ayasegawa's trailer before stepping out of mine. It's the end of the day, most of the crew members have packed up and left. I'm sure he has gone in there to hang out with that skinny blond-haired intern. I jog over there, knowing that there's no way he can avoid me this time. I don't care if Ayasegawa and that other kid are there to witness this. Ayasegawa already knows everything anyway.

To my surprise, the one that greets me at the door isn't Kurosaki. It's not Ayasegawa or the blonde kid either. It's the other intern; straight black hair, pointy face, narrow eyes with a pair of funky-looking rectangular glasses. He gives me this critical look, his thin eyebrows pinched together disapprovingly.

"What do you want?" he asks tersely.

I dislike him immediately. His voice rubs me the wrong way; that tone he's using, cool and aloof like he's some kind of superior being. And I really don't like that the way he's studying me. In a rare moment of self consciousness, I shift my hands to hide the bottle of cream soda behind my back.

"Get me Kurosaki," I reply gruffly.

The boy's already-small eyes narrow further into slits. "What for?"

I suppress the urge to sock him in the jaw. "That's none of your fucking business," I grind out. "Now are you going to get him or not?"

"Hmph." The kid looks me up and down, his lips curling into a half-smirk. "I would think you'd have gotten the message by now."

My eyebrows twitch as my patience begin to wear thin, but I indulge him anyway. "And what message might that be?" I ask between gritted teeth.

His smirk disappears and his eyes harden. "Kurosaki doesn't want anything to do with you," he says. "Will you please get that through your thick skull?"

"Why you little-" I take a menacing step towards him, fully expecting him to shrink back like any normal person would, but he only continues to regard me with that cold, detached look on his ugly mug.

My stomach gives a sickening lurch, and I feel my limbs run cold and my face flush at the same time. Shit, is this how rejection feels like?

Fuck me, I think I've just been utterly, mercilessly rejected, and I didn't even get to meet Kurosaki face-to-face. Inside, my pride cracks a little. My cheeks become hotter and hotter by the second under the kid's patronizing gaze.

"Please don't bother Kurosaki again," he adds while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his skinny nose. With that, he slams the door in my face.

He fucking slammed the door in my face. I stare at it dumbly, too stunned to react. My face is practically on fire now, and I feel something foreign creep into my chest. Humiliation. I've never felt so humiliated in my life. Ever.

And you know what's the kicker? For the life of me, I can't summon even an ounce of anger. I just stand there like an idiot, holding the soda bottle in one hand, blinking my eyes repeatedly in disbelief and shock, but not anger. I think my brain short-circuited because the impossible had just happened.

Then, slowly, I regain control of my body. Back stiff and legs heavy, I trudge down the trailer steps like a zombie. I know my face's still red, and the remaining few crew members stare at me curiously as I make my way back to my own trailer. I don't know if they overheard and I don't care.

Finally, as reality sinks in, I have no choice but to accept the truth. I screwed up, royally. Kurosaki is fucking serious. He's not playing hard to get. He actually seriously hates me, and apparently everyone knows that. Ayasegawa is right, then. I really am delusional.

This hits me hard. For the first time in my perfect, successful life, I actually failed at something. I actually lost something that I really wanted. I fucked up.

I stagger to my mini fridge, feeling sorry for myself, and grab a bottle of cold beer. Then, dragging my feet, still wide-eyed and reeling from my failure, I fling the trailer door open and plop my ass down on the top-most step. The cool evening breeze washes over me gently, but it does nothing to soothe that tight, foreign lump in my chest.

I don't know how long I sat there nursing that bottle of beer, but the next time I lift my head to take in my surroundings, I see the dreaded, green-haired, large-chested figure of Neliel standing a few feet away from me. She cocks her head to the side and raises an eyebrow.

"You look depressed," she points out helpfully, her hips sashaying as she approaches me.

I snort and take a swig from the bottle. Room temperature beer sucks balls, but I'm too lazy to get up to grab a new one.

"You're imagining things," I retort.

She laughs and rests one of her hands on her curvy hip. "That's rich coming from you, Jaegerjaques."

I shoot her a dark look.

"Finally admitting defeat?" she continues, blatantly ignoring the warning scowl on my face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She laughs again, her child-like voice cutting through the silence of the night. Wow, is it night time already? Where did the time go?

"What are you doing here anyway?" I try to change the subject.

"I left a toy in my trailer," she replies with a wink. "Kisuke really likes that one, says it makes him-"

"Woah!" I thrust my hand towards her face. "I really don't need to know that." Too late; a shudder runs up my spine as my sick, twisted mind conjures up the mental image of the eccentric director lying naked on silk sheets with his legs spread invitingly.

Damn, I need to get laid.

"Seriously though," Neliel interrupts me. She peers at me through thick fans of long, perfectly curled lashes, her succulent lips arranged in a slight pout. "Are you alright?"

I gulp down another mouthful of beer and make a face. "Of course I'm alright," I reply.

"Mmm hmm."

A long stretch of silence follows.

"Look, what do you want from me?" I ask finally, exasperated by the fact that she's still here.

She shrugs. "Just thought you might want to talk about it," she says. She plays around with something in her coat pocket - that toy of hers, I bet. I shudder again. "I'm a good listener, you know," she adds.

I open my mouth to say something insulting, but then I catch the gleam of sincerity in her eyes, and I falter. My throat tightens uncomfortably. Talk? What's there to talk about? Analyze how I screwed up? Yeah, that'll help.

"Kisuke and I aren't always all roses," she says suddenly.

I look at her, startled at the unexpected revelation. They sure look sickeningly loving to me.

She smiles at my expression. "We've gone through a lot of ups and downs, especially in the beginning. I didn't take him seriously, thinking that he's just another sleazy director out to take advantage of inexperienced actresses," she continues with a soft chuckle. "Then I realize that there's a lot more to him than meets the eye. Sides of him that nobody sees."

She pauses and gives me a meaningful look.

"He's like onions. Onions have layers. He has layers," she adds.

I stare at her in disbelief. "Did you just quote Shrek?"

She giggles. "Oops!"

I roll my eyes. "And your point is...?"

"You're like an onion too," she says.

"Hell no," I protest immediately. "I don't stink, and I sure as hell don't have fucking layers, whatever the hell that means."

Neliel lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I don't know why you do this to yourself. There's so much more to you, yet you always act like a one-dimensional asshole," she says. "You need to stop taking things for granted. Being famous doesn't give you a free pass to be a dick."

I gape at her, literally shocked speechless by her frankness.

"Not everyone is as shallow as you think, Jaegerjaques," she continues, her features softening slightly. "That boy definitely isn't."

I stare at the nearly-empty bottle in my hand, unable to reply. I don't know what to say to that, so after a few seconds of silence I take a final swig from the bottle.

"It's only through dedication that Kisuke and I persevered all these years. It's hard work," Neliel says dreamily. "It's not easy to find that special someone, you know. Maybe it's time for you to stop being such a player, hmm?"

I nearly choke on my beer. "Woah, hold on a minute, woman," I sputter, struggling to speak through a coughing fit. "Now you're just thinking too much. I'm not looking for a 'special someone' or anything, okay? The kid's is just another piece of ass that I was hoping to nail, alright?"

"Oh really now?" She quirks her eyebrows. "Well, fine then. Guess I misunderstood. And here I thought you can still be saved." Shaking her head, she straightens up and pats her bulging pocket. "Time for me to go, I've kept the poor man tied up all by himself for too long."

She winks at me again and blows me a kiss before leaving. I stare at her retreating back, trying hard not to picture Urahara's situation. It's just wrong, all sorts of wrong. Ugh.

Stupid, meddling woman. Now I can't get her voice out of my head. All that crap about onions and roses just pisses me off. I frown angrily, annoyed that my alone time has been disrupted by her uninvited presence. I bring the beer bottle to my lips again, only to find that it's empty. Goddamnit, even the beer gods hate me!

The jarring sound of breaking glass startles me before I realize belatedly that I had thrown the bottle to the ground in frustration. The shattered pieces, dark and ominous in the dim light, lie scattered below the steps of my trailer like a deadly booby trap. Smashed, just like my plan to get Kurosaki into my bed. Obliterated. Gone.

Fuck, this is too depressing. Why am I so upset about this anyway? When one door closes, another opens, isn't that what they always say? So what if he doesn't want my attention, it's his loss! It's not like there aren't plenty of willing bodies out there waiting for me. I mean, look at the long trail of lovers I've taken all these years, men and women alike. Every single of them would give a limb just to spend another night with me. In fact, I'm going to do just that; I have some of their numbers in my cell phone, the rare few whose names I actually bothered to remember. I fish out my cell phone from my back pocket and open up my contact list.

Too fat. Too thin. Too talkative. Too loud. Too submissive-

I groan inwardly and toss my phone to the side. I can't. All I can think of is Kurosaki's slender, intoxicating figure; the feisty gleam in his eyes, the stubborn defiance behind his scowls and snappy comebacks. Just the mental image of him blushing makes my mouth water. I want him. I want him in a way I've never ever wanted anyone before. I want to hear his voice again. It doesn't matter if he's only going to use it to insult me. I want to feel his fire, his discreet glances at my body when he thinks I'm not looking. I want to be the center of his attention, even if it's only his anger.

My heart sinks in dismay at the almost poetic thoughts that are running through my mind. Since when have I become so desperate?

Shit, I can't let this go on. I'm a fucking professional, an award-winning actor. This role just might get me my next Oscar, I don't have time for this shit. Time for me to tuck my libido back where it belongs and focus on my damn job.

To be continued...