Temari really didn't want to be there.

Not that she didn't enjoy loud clubs filled with gay boys, cheering on the currently performing queercore band. It was actually kind of fun to watch the lead singer scan the whooping, sweaty crowd for his latest, incredibly good looking victim. Ehem. Volunteer.

Because she really did enjoy that kind of thing.

It was just the fact that despite the fact she was currently been smashed from all sides by lots of very cute, very, sweaty, very gay boys and despite the fact she had come with a friend, Temari was again incredibly alone.

She craned her neck to try and find Sakura. Unfortunately, she had probably managed to hook up with the only no 'mo left in the entire club. For the first time since she was thirteen and had sprung quite painfully to her current height of 5 feet 8 inches, Temari really wished that she was taller. She was currently standing on tippy toes and still couldn't see over the beefy guy in front of her. It was her fault for personally boycotting heels she knew, but then again, there was no shoe on the whole planet more comfortable and stylish than her blood red converse chuck taylors. Some things just never went out of fashion.

The set had ended and the music had ceased to blare from the speakers. That was too bad. Even though the band had had a crap name, (jerkalert, and no, don't underestimate the innuendo there) crappier lyrics (drill'im...drill'im then finish off with screws...what kind of contrived crap was that anyway?) the bassist was really talented. Now, if only they had a drummer ... and a straight guy.

Temporarily giving up the search for what was likely her very inebriated friend, Temari made her way to the bar and ordered a tina colada. Contrary to what many people though, she was quite straightedge.

That, and somebody had to be sober when drunkzilla (Sakura) finally passed out and had to be taken home.

Her drink came and while she sipped on it the bassist from Jerkalert stood beside her to order his own cocktease cocktail. Virginity only sullied by the paper umbrella balanced on the edge of the glass. She inwardly sighed. Another 'mo. Which was really too bad. He was tall. Taller than her with broad, not too broad shoulders, lean, muscular arms and wonderfully narrow hips and skinny legs. Temari was awful she knew, but skinny boys always did hold more interest for her than the bowflex models from infomercials. To finish it all off, he had dark hair, dark eyes and wore what were obviously very much loved, very bruised and beaten 'chucks.

He was perfect.

She mentally shook herself. 'he's a 'mo remember?'

But lots of not 100% straight people procreated right?

"No."

To clear her head Temari took another sip of her drink and over the rim of her glass saw the devil incarnate herself.

Ino.

Ino, with her perfect blond hair and her big boobs. Her 'punk' outfit (obviously straight off the rack at Hot Topic) and her latest victim. Not to be mistaken with volunteer.

Because Ino was kind of...Temari hated to say it, but whoreish. And it wasn't like she was the only person who thought that. Ino was asking for it with the way she dressed, acted and most of all dated.

The only reason Temari hated to say anything bad about her, was that when not surrounded by other people, Ino really was an ok person. She could actually be nice and funny. Caring, sweet, kind – the works. The only problem was that most of the time she was kind of a bitch. And a slut. And annoying.

And all those things worked into why Temari tried to avoid her at all costs. Unfortunately for her though, Ino was coming right this way, poor, shallow boyfriend in tow. Temari could almost hear her in that horribly snide tone, "Temari, alone again. I guess the only thing daddy can't buy with his company is company."

Which is why Temari had to not look like she was alone. And with Sakura drunk and likely canoodling in some dark corner of the club, she saw no other option.

She turned to Mr. Gorgeous 'Mo with her best smile and said, "would you be my boyfriend for five minutes?"

And the poor schmuck, without even being able to answer, suddenly found himself making out with a girl he'd never met before. Which should have bothered him, but being a teenage, horomone driven boy, didn't really much.

Until he heard the voice of the girl he'd been trying to get a hold of ever since she broke up with him say, "Shika, Temari...how do you guys, like know eachother?"

And the girl he'd been so happily kissing just a moment before was completely forgotten as he saw an opportunity to get back together with Ino. With beautiful, amazing, perfect Ino. For the first time in years, his superior IQ failed him and he could not come up with a decent answer to her question.

"uhh..."

Then the other girl brought up an entirely new question to which he didn't really know an intelligent answer either.

"How the hell do you know Ino?"

And he realized three things.

1. That what had begun as a theraputic gig with his band, Jerkalert (what kind of a name was that anyway?) had suddenly changed into what would probably be the most troublesome night of his life.

And

matter how superior his IQ was, he didn't see logic or strategy bringing an end to this night any time soon.

And

3. He still had 3 and a half minutes.