to: My family, for an awesome birthday.

notes: sorry for taking so long. this is an ugly little one before shit gets real.

xx vv.

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It's not that I'm stalking, because I'm not.

Sakura works at the school library on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after school from dismissal to 6 PM. I set up camp at a table near the section with the art books, authors A-G. Sakura likes Gurney and there is one book of his she lays on top of the others, pages dog-eared to the same techniques.

She doesn't see me, but she knows I'm there. Her movements are too measured and not stilted enough. She overthinks the reaching of her arms and doesn't fumble with the heavy books she's putting back.

She's moving too slow—too ingenuinely graceful like she's trying to prove that she doesn't fumble while my eyes dig holes in her back.

I move towards her slowly and the thin carpet absorbs the vibrations of my feet. I grasp the shelf she's organizing with more zeal than I intended, trap her on both sides with my arms and she jumps, her back bumping into my front. For some reason, I suck a breath in through my teeth—too fast, too loud—and she gets unnaturally still.

I regret cornering her like this immediately.

It took a few months of Sakura grasping my hand to drag me places and lingering, unsure fingers for me to realize that I like touching her. I am acutely aware of her body—despite never seeing it all stripped and bare.

I understand it. The way her hands are never steady unless she is painting or dissecting frogs. The way her breathing gets slow when she is listening to something with deep interest. The way her thighs clench when she sees something she wants.

She is still now because she is waiting for my next move, in a combination of anticipation and curiosity.

I unconsciously step closer and her back is pressed firmly against my front as her head falls back onto my shoulder. Her fingers are holding the shelf in front of her with a steely grip as my hands brush the sides of her skirt.

The past two and a half weeks have been a hell of mounting distance and simultaneous awkwardness. I've been going home after school and falling asleep immediately to nightmares of sex with Karin that leaves me covered in bruises and scratches and tears while she sleeps in my arms, completely annoyed that I have not managed to make her cum once.

I am the one who cries.

And I haven't been able to talk to Sakura about it because whenever the thought of losing my virginity comes to mind, thoughts of her and desire and fear mingle together in my stomach.

"Sasuke?"

Sakura whispers my name in a way that's full of breath and confusion because I am still fiddling with the hem of her skirt and I'm pressing into her harder. My head lulls down to where my lips meet her ear and she says my name again.

What am I supposed to say?

That I've been thinking about her naked body rubbing up against mine? And that the thought simultaneously excites and scares the shit out of me? That not talking to her for days has made me both a stress eater and obsessive exerciser?

"Sakura."

The tips of my fingers brush against the smooth skin of her thighs and I feel her push back into me. It's barely any pressure at all, but it fuels me in a way that nothing ever has.

Again—she pushes into me. Her ass rubs against my groin and her heat feels so… I just—dammit, I can't think.

So I step back.

I bump into the book shelf behind me and Sakura turns around—flushed and pink and brushing the hem of her skirt.

I don't know what to do now. She is looking at me, expectant and surprised and looking entirely too tempting for her own good.

So, I leave.

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When Sakura is at my locker the following morning at school, I go to first period carrying the heavy load of my entire backpack.

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At lunch, Karin strokes the hair at the nape of my neck as usual while texting Ino. Sakura is absent. Shikamaru takes a nap instead of helping with her math. Kiba talks about a party he is throwing during our mid-season break next week.

I do not speak or react even when I should.

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The next day, Sakura is still absent.

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Karin kisses me when I arrive at our table at The House of Blue Leaves.

I am reminded again of how her kisses do not count as I swipe my lips over the sticky lip gloss she leaves on me. Her breath is tinged with something unpleasant.

It is the first time I'm seeing her in three weeks.

"Sorry, I'm late. I had some stuff to do at school that I didn't want to leave for after the break."

I don't mention the stuff I had to do was cover Sakura's hours at the library without her asking me to.

Karin pats my forearm and her fingers drag in a way they normally wouldn't.

There is a martini in her other hand, something deceptively fruity in front of Ino, and warm sake for Naruto, whose face lights up at my appearance.

"TEME!"

He is loud and boisterous and familiar, but I sigh anyway and wave off a scotch and soda the waiter presents to me.

We are underage, but when your group consists of the mayor's son, his cousin, the Yamanaka heiress, and myself, all of that shit pretty much goes out the window.

Naruto speaks to me enthusiastically and Ino snorts beside him, amused by his excitement and childish exuberance. A small part of me realizes I've never heard her snort in all the years I've known her. Her eyes drag away from Naruto to me and she winks in my direction.

Ino has a way of putting me at ease for the simple fact that she has never come onto me. In fact, before I met Sakura, she was the girl I considered my closest friend. When Naruto and I drifted apart, I stopped seeing everyone—including her.

"Ne, Sasuke-chan," Ino drawled and Karin laughed somewhere from my right,"how's things at KSIC? Are ya workin' hard or hardly workin'?"

I rolled my eyes at her corny joke, which she expected.

KSIC jokes were made at my expense all the time, considering I was both the only person in my family branch to not go to the SS and surrounded by what the noble clans thought to be "an unpleasant mingling of the classes". Plus, the work there was ten times as hard.

More jokes were made throughout the night, increasing proportionally to the level of drunkenness of our table. Eventually, I tipped the waiter thrice of what our bill was to make sure both Ino and Naruto's drivers picked them up and brought them home safely.

I took Karin by the waist and led her to my ride, helping her slide onto the Italian leather without hitting her head. The ride to her apartment was smooth and I was glad she didn't throw up like Naruto said she often did when she got this drunk.

I took her heels off before covering her with the imported sheets and she roused slightly to giggle before rubbing her face on her pillow and falling unconscious again.

In her sleep, she called my name softly, dreamily…

I left her apartment, bidding her crinkly-eyed housekeeper a quiet goodnight with the taste of nauseous salivating in my mouth.

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I was watching the sky lighten from black to shades of blue when I called. The stupid sunrise had made me nostalgic about a painting she'd dragged me to see once.

Sakura's contact picture—one she'd taken herself when putting my number into my phone—filled up my screen and I couldn't stop myself from jumping when she picked up after one ring.

"Hey…"

She sounded breathless, like she ran to the phone.

"Sakura."

I don't really know why I said her name and just stopped. Maybe it was because the last time I did that, I was pressed up against her in the library.

"Yeah?"

My silence drags on while my mind debates about why I really called.

"Sasuke?"

Before I know what I'm asking, the words come falling out.

"Do you want to come over?"