Stranger Than Fiction
By Socially Suicidal
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Drabble # 4
Sakura was absolutely fuming. Actually, that was an understatement. The pink haired woman was downright burning, her rage bubbling to near volcanic levels as she roughly stood, slamming some bills on the table for the iced tea she had ordered some time ago. She stalked out of the restaurant, ignoring the wide-eyed stares and a few snickers she got from waitresses and patrons alike.
She couldn't give a shit less about them. Her mind was more preoccupied by the fact that stupid, menacing, cheeky redheaded bastard had the gall to stand her up.
The young doctor could vividly picture him now, leaning against the bar at the club, smirking viciously as he pictured her embarrassment at sitting alone at a table for two fucking hours while receiving a mixture of pitying and mocking looks from the waitresses who had come by, some offering her words of sympathy while others goadingly rubbed her situation in. Regardless, everyone that approached her table was either reassured that he would turn up or, later on in the night, was snapped at by a rather vicious Sakura.
All she knew was that he would most definitely not be smirking when she was done with him, or rather, when she was done delivering a rather malicious, well aimed kick. No, he would be crying. Could he cry? Regardless, his expression would be pained, not cocky.
Flipping her phone open violently, her manicured finger tips violently punched in his phone number - she had easily memorized it once she had convinced him to reveal it to her before she left the club last night - as she stomped down the sidewalk in the direction of her car. It rang and rang, until finally his voicemail echoed mockingly into her ear. Growling, she waited until the damn thing beeped and she unleashed her fury into the phone receiver as she yanked her car door open and fell into the driver's seat.
"Sabaku Gaara," the door slammed with finality and the engine roared to life, as if echoing its driver's exploding ire, "I will have you know that…" she paused then, suddenly realizing she was playing exactly into his sick game. He wanted her to explode in fury, so he could snicker at her expense and play with her further.
Swallowing, Sakura irritably decided that perhaps screaming at the top of her lungs was, for once, not the way to approach the situation. "I will have you know that I would love for you to stop by my apartment whenever you receive this message. Whatever time of night it is, I'd like you to stop by. It was unfortunate that we were unable to spend dinner together tonight, so perhaps we could chat over a late night drink later. See you then!" The pinkette finished, leaving her address before she hung up.
A deep breath calming her frazzled nerves, Sakura set her phone down and shifted gears, pulling her car out of its spot and beginning the short drive home.
There, she thought cheekily, let's see how he takes that. You're not the only one who knows how to play games, Mr. Sabaku.
Her message was received by the redhead some hours into the night later. Charcoal rimmed eyes widened fractionally as his voicemail beeped, signaling the end of her message. Gaara shoved an ivory hand through his red spikes. That was certainly not the reaction he had expected from the pinkette. He was expecting her name to show up in his missed calls list, sure, but the message he left was far from what he had anticipated.
He vaguely considered not showing up at her apartment, too, but curiosity gnawed in his gut and got the better of him. He pushed away from the bar and stalked into the backroom, ignoring Ino's questioning voice as he strode by her. The redhead picked up his long trench coat and lighter, exiting through the back door to do everything in his power to avoid more human interaction, as usual.