AN: I changed the title, fyi. I don't know where this is headed, so the rating might change. It could even fall to M. Who knows but me?

Our Mess

The doorbell rang. Only a handful of people knew me well enough to come to my door. Playing dead wouldn't fool the likes of them. It was a nice morning, the typical kind that follows a terrible storm like last night's. I set down my newspaper, dusted crumbs off my shirt, and made to open the door.

I wasn't expecting anyone, especially not this early. Chouji always called before visiting, Ino was still in France, and my parents had better things to do than check in on me. My apartment looked like a wreck, unusually messier than normal, but the people I kept close disregarded petty things like that. I assumed the same from whichever friend was at the door.

They rang the doorbell again, a sign of impatience. I picked up my pace and reached for the knob. When I finally answered the door, I wanted to shut it as soon as it opened. I never thought I'd see her out of context, let alone on my doorstep.

She was beautiful, even more so than how I remembered her. She hadn't changed much – same hairstyle, same short skirt, but with differences where it mattered. Her curves were more defined, her skin beautifully tanned, and her eyes holding obscure emotions.

She had no reason to be here. To her, I was just her old high school lab partner, her youngest brother's good friend, maybe even her go-to person when life pissed her off.

She meant a lot more to me, though. She was my preferred conversationalist, the only person I could stand listening to, even if it meant enduring her sharp tongue and wild words. She provided an enticing challenge when we played shougi. She was my favorite friend and the object of my affection for the better half of my life.

But high school had long since finished. We weren't in each other's lives anymore. I went to Harvard, and she went to Princeton. Sure, there wasn't much distance between us, but our desires to stay in touch were nowhere near mutual.

I was in her life by force. The teacher assigned her to be my partner. Gaara and I had to do our middle school projects at his house because my house was admittedly too shabby. I was the only person she knew outside her clique; I was her last choice friend, the one she'd find when everyone else didn't cut it.

She meant a lot to me, but I meant nothing to her. I knew our ties would cut off on graduation day. I had no reason to be upset. It was expected.

Seeing her alone on my doorstep three years later, however, was not expected. I kept by the doorway, leaving it open in case either of us wanted to make a run for it. She made herself at home, opening my fridge, grabbing a glass, and pouring herself my last bit of orange juice. Our eyes hadn't connected yet, and I wasn't sure if I wanted them to. I had so many questions. "What are you doing here?" "How do you know where I live?" "Why did you lead me on?"

But I didn't ask. Temari needed to talk first.

She took a seat on my couch and picked up the newspaper I had been reading, flipping through articles she deemed irrelevant until she had no more pages to turn. She sipped so slowly, deliberately wetting her lips and licking them clean.

I closed the door. It was clear she didn't plan on leaving any time soon. Her glass finally empty, she cleared a spot on my cluttered coffee table to set it down, pushing some items off the edge in the process.

"My place is a mess."

I didn't want to talk to her, but I couldn't help it. She should have permanently left my life after graduation so I'd have enough time to move on. Seeing her after all these years, even if she'd more than likely take advantage of my friendship one last time, brought those feelings back with full force. I lost the motivation to wear a brave face. She defeated me again, this time only minutes into this surprise reunion. All I could do was surrender. "I'll clean it up. Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

"What?" I asked. Her voice had changed, now backed by experience, but that's not what stopped me dead in my tracks.

"I'm sorry." She was apologizing, but for what? As far as I knew, she had been oblivious to my love, never noticing or caring to notice me when she didn't have to. She wasn't one to fake remorse, so why was she apologizing to me?

"What for? You never did anything to me."

"I know, and I'm sorry." She stood up, and I backed away. "I treated you like shit, but you liked me anyways."

I don't think air reached my lungs, but I tried to speak anyways.

"That doesn't matter anymore. It never did. That was a long time ago."

She stepped towards me, walking over the mess on my floor. I had no more room to back up.

"It mattered to you then. It matters to me now." My face was flushed, my breathing erratic. How she kept her calm, I don't know.

I felt angry. I felt flustered. I didn't know what to feel. She had me cornered.

"Is this why you came here? You barely spoke to me in high school, you refused to talk to me in college, and now, three years later, you come to my home to tell me you got the timing wrong?"

"Yes."

She took the last step and kissed me, cupping my face in her hands with unimaginable tenderness for the woman I used to know. I had long given up fantasizing a future with Temari. It wasn't in the works for a guy like me, and even if it was possible, it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

But we were new people, still maturing and changing for the better. I put my hands over hers, stepping in even closer, tracing my fingers down her arms until they came to rest firmly on her waist, and kissed her like I'd always wanted to. She reopened my heart, and out poured the feelings I tried so hard to wipe away these last three years. I didn't know how it worked for her; I hoped she'd tell me later, and she did.

She pulled away for a second, taking my lips with her until I couldn't reach any further.

"Is this okay?" she whispered.

"Do you really have to ask that?" I offered with a smile, my first genuine smile since who knows how long. We kissed again, light touches first, then exploring tongues, all a prelude to what we'd do next.

I loved her. I never fell out of love with her. And she loved me, too.

AN: More oneshots to come. Please review!