Dedicated: of course, Sasuke-kun. Belated happy birthday, emoboy. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters.
Mind Player
berryboom
"An AMF?"
Tch. Uchiha Sasuke, drink Franklin? Get real. It's for that cheesy feminine population who visited this fancy hotel just to get a peek at males.
"I'll just take cold coffee."
He sat on his most preferred seat, which was just next to the sliding glass window making up the whole back wall. He folded his hands underneath his chin, and gazed at the calm scenario of the lake outside, the waves gently rolling towards the shore lined with colored rocks. The coastline was devoid of any people, given that it was only ten in the morning.
When it was full, though, it really got on the young Uchiha's nerves. The girls and the children playing, making obnoxious noises, and especially those fan girls from high school trying to close in on him – it set him into real pissed-off mode.
And no he wasn't gay, if that's what you're thinking.
He was just a dignified Uchiha.
The waiter set his order on the table. He turned his attention away from the panorama towards his glass. In that instant, his eyes caught a flash of color just a table away from him.
He could swear that the girl's hair was pink.
Like who in their sane mind would dye their hair pink?
The freak-haired girl was sitting ahead of him with only one table parting them, and what annoyed him most was that she was seated to face him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she settled in there and took off her flowery short coat, draping it on the back of her chair. The waiter was there in an instant and there was no mistaking about what she ordered.
A Long Island Iced Tea.
As bad as AMF in the Uchiha's opinion.
He snorted and turned back to his coffee. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the girl look at him once, then away. What he was sure about was that he had never seen her before.
It didn't take someone too smart to conclude that the guy had already classified his subject as irritating. So he was even more ticked off when she folded her hands underneath her chin and began to study him thoroughly.
He nearly growled. That gesture was his and his only!
Their eyes met.
He was ready to intimidate her with a shocking cold glare but he started despite himself when she didn't move from her current position, and looked straight into his eyes, her bloodred lips curled into a mysterious smile. They were jade and clear, but somehow, they were unfathomable.
The Uchiha jerked his head, breaking the connection.
Yeah, about the fan girls mentioned above? That was the truth, and he was not a teensy bit interested in girls – ha, that weak, annoying species – and not even this one. It was just her obnoxious hair color that drew his attention, that was all.
That was all.
Annoying bitch.
He sipped his drink, and deliberately tried to be unbothered by that certain girl's unnerving stare which burned into him, making him feel uneasy.
Damn, Sasuke. Act like an Uchiha. You don't care.
I'm tired. Should go to bed.
Huh?
He didn't feel exhausted at all, on the contrary he was quite refreshed after his long night sleep and this was just morning. So why should he sleep?
I'm tired. Should go to bed.
The thought popped into his mind. Again. This time, it came with a sense of drowsiness, which made him want to curl up in his bed and just rest, and a strong conviction that he should go at all cost. It seemed very powerful.
The waiter hurried over to him to collect the bill when he saw Sasuke get on his feet so abruptly. The latter fished through his pocket for a twenty.
Another thirty. For her.
Automatically he reached into his wallet again, and extracted the required money without thinking, throwing it into the bewildered waiter's hand. "It's for that miss's drink," he said irritably, gesturing at the table ahead of him as if the man should've recognized his intention.
The waiter nodded and walked away. That stopped Sasuke short.
WAIT A MINUTE, YOU FOOL!
He wanted to yell, but what was done was done. He had unthinkingly paid for that annoying woman's drink, and nothing could change that.
Why did he do that?
Why would he do such an act of courtesy, or more accurately give the (totally wrong) idea that he was appealed to a girl, just like that? And not just any girl, but that one, whom he had already defined as frustrating.
Gotta leave.
He obeyed himself. He turned around and practically stomped to the door that led to the staircases taking to the hotel rooms. He reached the second landing, where his room was. The numbers were marked in silver on the expensive oak doors, and his was at the end of the hallway.
Room 11.
Yes, that –WAIT!
That was not his room number.
Room 11.
He started walking past all the doors. Room 11 was the fourth one. He stopped abruptly there, and stared. The silver marked eleven. His destination.
His what?
What am I doing? He asked himself. Whose room is this, really? And why am I here?
The door is unlocked.
It sure looked unlocked. His fingers proceeded to touch the golden-painted doorknob, but he stopped midway.
No, no, no, no. turn around, Sasuke. Go back to your room.
Get inside.
Turn around, you jackass! You're an Uchiha, for God's sake.
Turn around.
Get inside.
He twisted the doorknob, and entered.
His first thought when he stepped into the room was about how it seemed so feminine. The curtains were all a calm shade of blue in the rooms, yet here it was a light pink. The carpet was off-white, and the bed had white covers, but had been decorated already with frilly pink pillows, a soft cherry comforter, and he could swear that there was a stuffed white bear in the middle.
Annoying room. Only a little grain-sized part of him urged him to turn back into the safety of his own space, which was clean and manly and blue, but there was a sheer and strong willpower that told him to stay there.
Take off your shirt and sit on the bed.
He deliberated for a second, and fear hit him like a torrent. Whose willpower? He was an Uchiha and a devoted one as well, so why would his spirit urge him to come and infiltrate a woman's room? At that moment he almost retreated but then a soft coaxing thought pushed into his mind, again.
It's okay. You're fine. Take off your shirt and sit on the bed.
He shrugged despite his very recent sense of fright and began unbuttoning his shirt. In no time it was thrown on the floor, and he had situated himself on the pliable, easy bed. He leaned back on his elbows, and closed his eyes.
Now wait.
Wait for what?
Such a pretty boy.
Such a pretty red mouth, pretty sharp nose, pretty dark hair, pretty white skin and pretty…
At that moment the waiter handed him a glass of cold coffee and he looked over at her, an automatic thing, considering her very bright shade of naturally pink hair.
… Dark eyes. Pretty, pretty, pretty.
They were black obsidians, very deep and thoughtful, but there was also an air of definite pride and arrogance in them that she didn't prefer.
And the way he snorted when she placed her order, it really convinced her about her notion.
Well.
He was pretty. And such a pretty boy shouldn't go to waste, and he should absolutely…
She smiled richly.
…get a taste.
As she sipped her favorite Long Island iced tea, she stared at him unblinkingly, and probably memorized every detail of him. What made it easier was when he looked over to glare at her but her strong, intent look made him retreat. Their eyes met for a moment.
So easy.
Oh, she loved herself.
I'm tired. Should go to bed.
Oh absolutely, you should, she thought lavishly. He certainly seemed exhausted all of a sudden, and was quick to make a resolve. He stood up and the waiter rushed to him for the bill.
Another thirty. For her.
She watched as he paid the fifty dollars, and gestured intimately towards her. She smiled again, when the waiter came and told her that the sir over there had paid for her bill. She allowed, making him think they knew each other.
Gotta leave.
He left.
She finished her drink, and draped her coat over her arm. She straightened up and taking a deep breath, proceeded towards the exit door.
Room 11. Room 11.
Yes, that was it. She walked through the door, and slowly, slowly stepped up the stairs, thoroughly focused.
The door is unlocked.
Get inside. Get inside.
She reached the second landing.
Take off your shirt and sit on the bed. It's okay. You're fine. Take off your shirt and sit on the bed.
No one was in sight. Still very slowly and steadily, she walked and stopped in front of the fourth door. Eleven was marked in silver. The door was only a crack open.
Now wait.
She giggled girlishly. She flipped back her hair and pushed open the door to enter Sakura Haruno's room. Her room.
He sat on her bed, seemingly relaxed. His eyes were closed and his white, perfectly masculine chest was so inviting.
She locked the door behind her, the first time she ever locked her room door. The sound made his eyes snap open, and he pushed up from his relaxed position, intimidated. She threw her coat aside and her bag on the floor, and slowly walked towards him, her lips curled into what she knew was a sexy smile.
She wanted to laugh.
He looked so scared at that moment, the proud little boy.
He watched her movements in a trance, and when she put a knee on the bed and placed her hands softly and smoothly on his pretty chest, she actually felt him tremble.
A chuckle escaped her lips.
She pushed him down, down on the bed and her hair formed pink curtains on either side of his face.
"Let's do this, emoboy."
"I – I don't know you," he stammered. He actually stammered, the proud little boy.
She put a delicate finger against his supple lips.
"I'm Sakura, Sasuke-kun," she whispered, and felt him suck in a sharp breath. Of course he was scared, and surprised. Like, who wouldn't, when someone would actually and voluntarily play with his will, and his mind?
"We have tomorrow for knowing each other, and then the day after tomorrow, and then the day after that…"
It was just so fun.
After all, she was a great mind player.
A/N: Don't know where this came from. But the way I imagined it was way better than the written story itself.
Erm…Reviews motivate me? xD
berryboom (Previously iSierra)