Fixing her notes didn't fix her relationship with Sasuke. In linear algebra, their one shared class, he sat as far away as possible. At the end, he'd be out the door before she even got a chance to make it across the room to him. During lunch, she'd eat alone at their bench. The two boys were nowhere to be found.
Sakura got all of her other final projects done in record time. It turned out that avoiding one project and being best-friendless meant she had a lot more time to dedicate to her schoolwork. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd be able to ace every final exam at this point. Maybe she should piss off Sasuke next semester. She laughed without humor as she ate her bento alone.
Eventually the only thing remaining undone was the self-portrait.
She was grateful she rented a townhouse instead of a dorm. Her roommate, Temari, also had an older boyfriend. The man owned a house, and thus Sakura never saw her. Sakura pretty much had the place to herself unless Temari was running late or needed a midday break from school.
On the weekends, the townhouse was Sakura's alone. It made stripping off her clothes and posing in the mirror much easier to do. At least she was assured that no one was going to walk in on her.
She ended up sitting and sketching, for hours and hours on a Saturday. Crumpled papers littered the floor of her room. At least she was getting better at shading, however, the longer she worked the harder it was to pull her eyes away from her scarred reflection.
She opted not to draw the scars at all. That was the issue.
On the pages on the floor, and the pages in her book, was a beautiful woman. A fraud. The one in the mirror needed some sort of plastic surgery. In fact, Sakura felt like throwing something heavy at her.
The doorbell rang in the afternoon. With a relieved sigh, Sakura gladly took a break.
Amazon. She'd ordered a few things for next semester, nothing that needed to be signed for. She slipped on a long silk robe that went all the way down to her lower calves and quickly tied the knot.
She peeked through the eyehole to spy the packages and her gut dropped.
It was Itachi.
Shit. No. Sasuke had told him.
Her face lit on fire. Sasuke had told Itachi she'd drawn him naked. Fuck. No.
Her hand quivered on the door knob. She took a shaky breath. She liked Itachi, as a friend, and she couldn't leave it like this. They weren't close by any means but if she owed anyone an explanation, it was him.
She braced herself and flicked the latch. Maybe Sasuke hadn't said anything and this was just a drop by. Not that he'd ever dropped by before. She opened the door and greeted him as normally as possible. "Itachi, good afternoon."
His black-eyed gaze caught her own. His cheeks pinkened. He knew.
Her ears felt the heat of the sun.
"Good afternoon, Sakura."
She scratched the back of her head, although all she really wanted was to melt through the floor. "So, I take it that Sasuke may have mentioned I'm in a figure drawing class."
The pink cheeks turned red. "Ah. He did."
Wasn't this awkward. Thanks, Sasuke.
"Did you want to step in and chat?" she asked, before realizing he probably thought her a creeper. "Or if you want, we can chat at the coffee shop down the street, or here–" on the cement steps of her entry way.
"'I'll step in."
She backed away from the door and let him pass through. The red dress shirt and slacks fit him well, but could fit him better now that she knew what lay beneath. Her face burned at her thoughts and she dipped her head as he passed her. Her gaze took in her silk robe. She'd forgotten. How she wished she'd done more than tie on a robe. Hell, even underwear and a bra would feel better than being this bare under thin silk. She crossed her arms over her chest. Were her tits showing? Double shit.
"Do you want tea or anything?" Could she find an excuse to sneak away and put on some clothes?
At least the townhouse was clean, no dirty clothes, just school papers. Not even her art papers, just chemistry. A small blessing. He sat on the edge of the couch, facing her. His gold rimmed glasses glinted in the sunlight from the window.
"I'm good, but thank you for the offer."
She daintily leaned on the corner of the armchair across from him. Whatever she did, she could not sit, this robe would open and Itachi would get a lot more than he bargained for by coming here. The stupid tie was right under her breasts, it wouldn't stay closed when sitting. The last thing she needed to do was add more awkwardness to this. Flashing her lower lady bit about would be a disaster.
"So," Sakura winced, "what exactly did Sasuke say?"
Itachi's shoulders straightened, "That he'd caught you sketching my backside."
Sakura coughed and choked, "It was just — "
"For class, I'm aware. I let Sasuke know that I was indeed a model for a figure drawing class. I do wish you'd come to speak with me after though."
She flushed deeper, and fiddled with her tie robe. "To be honest I was going to. But then I met with Kisame and I overheard him say you did this for a dare through the door. I didn't want to embarrass you any further. Especially when he said you wouldn't see anyone else in the class again."
Itachi laughed, the tension in his shoulders leaving. He wiped his eyes. "Ok, I was wondering what he kept hinting at in the car. He was acting sketchier than usual. Well, that makes me feel better."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Itachi. I really didn't mean for you to find out from Sasuke, or for Sasuke to even see the doodle I did."
"Doodle?"
Shit. "Practice," she said quickly. "Practice for shading. I'm pretty bad at it, but I'm getting better." She gave a nervous smile.
"Ah. About that."
Oh no, she could feel sweat trickle down her back. It was getting too warm in this apartment.
"Could I see it?"
Sakura blinked.
His ears now matched his cheeks. "To be honest, I'm a bit curious how it turned out. I didn't put my glasses on until I got back in the car. I wasn't sure I wanted to look, but when Sasuke said he could recognize me from it… Well, I suppose curiosity got the best of me."
"Oh, yes, of course." Like she was going to deny him a look at the drawing. "Did you want to see the main sketch or the err— practice?"
"You've both?" He asked.
She gave a nod, "The professor graded them in the next class so they could be returned to us before we started the final project."
"How'd you do?"
Sakura cringed, "Not the best, I needed to make an improvement but she was kind enough to give me an A." She then motioned further into the house. "The drawings are in my room, I'll go fetch—"
The man was already standing, ready to follow her. His feet were rocking. He was really nervous then.
"Right this way. They turned out pretty good. I don't think you've anything to worry about, Itachi. In fact, the ladies in front couldn't stop talking about your six-pack."
She glanced behind her, his neck looked flushed now. That had been the wrong thing to say.
"Where were you sitting?" he asked.
"Back right."
She glanced again.
His hand tapped his pant leg. Ok, time to go.
She quickened her pace and walked into the small hallway, acutely aware of the presence behind her.
"I guess, I was curious. How did you get up the nerve?" She couldn't stand naked in front of a significant other, let alone strangers.
"Well, taking off my glasses and being blind helped a lot."
She smiled at his joke.
"And I prayed my junk was covered the entire time," he laughed.
She snorted and joined in the laughter, opening her door and then froze. Her room. Shit.
"Sorry for the mess," she apologized. To be honest, the only mess was from today. Her crumpled drawings littered the floor. She made her way over to the drawing pad, quickly flipped the page away from the one she'd done of her and turned to Itachi.
She extended the drawing pad to him.
His fingers trembled as he took the book, but he tightened his grip and pulled it from her.
"You honestly don't need to be so worried. You looked great." More than great, beautiful. But no man wanted to be called that.
She turned to her school bag and squatted away from him as she dug through it for her binder. When she pulled it out, fixed her robe and turned around, she found Itachi sitting on the edge of her bed, eyes pouring over her drawing pad. She pulled out the paper Sasuke had ripped out and made her way back over.
She took a seat beside Itachi and looked at the drawing with him. She hadn't captured it fully, but was close. More shading had been needed, but the elegance and tension in the muscles were all there. He looked strong, imposing and beautiful.
He flicked the pages then, to the one before. A woman that had come to class, an elderly woman. Said woman had no issue in letting them draw her drooping tits.
"You're very good."
"Getting better," she laughed awkwardly. Well this was weird. Looking at a naked drawing of an old lady together was weird, right?
He flicked forward next, skipping over himself. He turned to her naked form, an arm and hand covering her breasts and crossed legs greeted their gazes. Itachi's back stiffened, his entire body becoming rigid.
"Fuck," she cursed, shoving her hand onto the drawing pad and down. "Final project. Fucking final project is a self-portrait." This wasn't creepy or weird or–
She glanced up at him.
His gaze was looking down, but not at the drawing.
She followed his gaze to her legs, both exposed along with pink pubic hair.
"Fuck!" she jumped up, adjusting the robe. In alarm she watched his face go from pale to dark maroon and he averted his gaze… back to the portrait. It took one more second for him to realize it was still her naked body before he turned his gaze to the ceiling, eyes closed.
"I am so sorry," he said.
Welp, she hid her face in shame. Her life was over now. She was going to die here, from embarrassment. Could she get swallowed by a sinkhole, please?
She'd flashed Itachi pretty much everything. How could she have forgotten what she was wearing? That she was wearing nothing? Weren't people supposed to feel a breeze?
"I was working on the project, I- I—" She should be the one apologizing instead all she can do is stammer, her body overheating. How did one recover from this?
She laughed. Oh, how she wanted to die. She looked up, his head still tilted up at the ceiling, eyes closed.
She pulled the drawing pad from his grasp and closed the book. She gave him a slug on the shoulder, not knowing really what else to do but laugh this off. "Well, guess you're in luck, not even my boyfriends have gotten such a view."
She was just going to talk herself into a deeper grave wasn't she?
"Not that I'm a virgin, or —" shit, fuck her, now she needed to explain this more. "Just, you know night sex stuff." One night stand stuff. Too scared to have a relationship in which they start to ask questions or see anything or judge her or call her a butterbody.
Itachi blinked, then. Eyes opening. He met her gaze, dark crimson going straight to his ears and down his neck.
Her rambling continued, "I just meant you're probably the first one to see my legs in like eight years. That's all." Oh, why couldn't she have had a heart attack? It certainly felt like one was coming on.
His expression changed then, becoming softer. "Ah."
Silence then stretched between them. Sakura fidgeted with the robe tie, and she bounced on her heels, oh how she wanted to run; but that would probably show off everything if she moved that fast.
Finally, his gaze dropped to her legs, his ears returning to a pink hue. He glanced up at her then, his mouth open in hesitation and then he cleared his throat. "May I see your scars?"
At first she was taken aback. Part of her wanted to scream no. But, she'd already seen his scars. In fact, she'd memorized them with how many times she'd reviewed the drawing as a reference. If there was anyone who might even slightly understand her, it would be him.
Not trusting her voice, she took action. With her veins almost popping out of her hands, she gripped the front of the robe and lifted it up to her mid thigh. She made sure to cover her important bits this time.
He moved from the bed to the floor and closer to her leg.
She held herself still with willpower she didn't know she had. Part of her wanted to flee, never return, but the other half of her was fixated on his face as he kneeled before her.
He observed her leg, no sign of disgust. Just curiosity. No 'ew.' No 'gross.' Nothing like she feared a normal human would say. What normal teenagers had said, the one time she'd worn sleep shorts at the first slumber party after being cast free.
His hand reached out.
Just before reaching her skin, his hand lingered in the air. The heat though, she could feel where his fingers would rest. Her skin tingled.
He looked up at her then, eyes solemn. "May I touch?"
She cracked a smile, remembering her dream. She wasn't sure what made her say it, but she did. "Only if I'm allowed to touch yours."