The Social Scene

Chapter 6

Load up on guns and bring your friends
It's fun to lose and to pretend
She's over bored and self assured

- Nirvana

The date. With the Uchiha. In thirty minutes.

So Sakura wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but she was strangely nervous. And she had no idea what to wear. She had heard that the restaurant they were going to was extremely formal and pricey, but she didn't want to dress up too much so that it looked like she had made the effort... In front of anyone else it would have been acceptable, but not in front of the Uchiha. He wouldn't be given the pleasure to know she had worried herself over a date (which should have meant nothing to her!)

Her make-up was exactly the same as it was earlier on in the day, albeit for an extra layer of lip gloss. No false eye-lashes, no lipstick, no unnecessary glam. She wasn't trying to impress the Uchiha, so why try?

When she had just gotten her choice of attire down to two dresses, a knock came from her front door fifteen minutes before she was expecting Sasuke.

She ran to get the door, opening it just a crack in case Sasuke was just extremely early, but instead, it was a man, whom she had never seen before, dressed in a smart suit with a large box in his hands.

"Er, hi?" she said sceptically.

"Sorry to intrude, ma'am, but Sir asked me to deliver this to you," the man said, holding out the box for her to take. She did so, although with much caution.

"'Sir'?" she asked him, wondering who he had been addressing. He obviously worked for someone powerful... and rich. She could only guess at one person, as she sighed and added, "The Uchiha, right?"

The servant nodded his head before swiftly turning around to leave. She sighed yet again as she slammed her door shut with her foot, juggling the large, relatively heavy box in her arms.

She carefully placed it onto her sofa, as she knelt down to lift up the lid. The true contents were wrapped within layers of tissue paper, but on top of them lay a pristine card with a swirled border. In the centre, it read:

Sakura,

I hope this small gift is to your liking

Sasuke

X

She almost spluttered when she uncovered the tissue paper to reveal gorgeous material folded over each other to fit into the box. She lifted it out and gasped with a mix of shock and stun. It was a beautiful Grecian-esque dress, pale pink in colour and a light material, resembling silken threads. A strip of material draped over the shoulder to hold the dress up and wove around the upper body, cinching in slightly at the waist. The skirt rippled to the ground, lightly dragging on the floor. Sakura fingered the label on the back of the dress and could have died with excitement. Rodarte. Wow.

As much as she loved the dress, she just couldn't accept it. It must have cost a fortune, even for a rich socialite, but that wasn't the point. If Sakura accepted this dress, she was literally falling right into the intricate trap that Sasuke had intended her to fall into. It would be submitting to his follies, to his charm, to his unquenchable arrogance. But... But she couldn't just refuse this generous gift. She took another glance at the dress, swooning with a longing to feel the material over her skin.

An internal debate battled through her mind, a little devil on one shoulder telling her to accept and to deal with the consequences later. But the angel on the other shoulder told her that she should just refuse to wear it and give it back to him.

An epiphany suddenly hit her as she thought of a way to satisfy both sides of her conscience. She would wear the dress, but only to her date tonight and then return it to him – like a hire. If she kept it, she'd always have that constant reminder when she opened her closet door in the mornings that she had succumbed to Sasuke's courtship. But this way, Sasuke would get the clear message to back away after this date, because, of course, this date should mean nothing.

.&.

"Well... thanks for a lovely evening," Sakura said as she almost reached her front door after her dinner with Sasuke. "And thanks for walking me home – which you really shouldn't have gone to the trouble of!"

"It's my pleasure, Sakura," he replied with a charming smile on his face. She couldn't help but to gawk at his smile for a little while longer. For the first time since she met him, Sasuke seemed to have a lot more genuine smiles on his face this evening. She suddenly blushed when she realised she was staring, and diverted her gaze to the concrete ground quickly.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked her, inspecting her closely for her reaction.

She nodded her head genuinely, and she wasn't even lying just to be polite. She really had enjoyed herself. She laughed a lot, drank a bit too much wine and she even ordered a dessert which she barely touched, just to drag out the evening a little but more. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, slightly from the embarrassing admittance to his question. However, unsuspectingly, he inched closer to her and she felt like a silly little school girl again with a crush on a boy four years older than her. But she suddenly came to her senses and put a light hand on his chest to stop him in his steps, a safe two inches away from her own body. "But next time," she advised, "be a bit more... you."

Ignoring the second half of her sentence, he parroted with a small triumphant smirk, "Next time?"

She chuckled at this and replied, "Nice try. But seriously, when you next take a girl out on a date, it may surprise you to know that some aren't looking for your riches, wealth or influence. They just want a good time with the real Sasuke Uchiha – take her somewhere which isn't a posh restaurant, you know?" She reached into her bag and pulled out her keys, fumbling for the right ones to unlock her door.

He thought about this for a moment, creasing his brow in profound contemplation. "Hm," he murmured. "I'll try it." And then his eyes lit up as he looked directly at her. "Perhaps on Tuesday?"

She could sense the signs of a subtle hint at another date underneath his words, which made her shake her head at his insatiable cheekiness. She ignored his request and simply put the key in the door lock, before opening it. She was about to walk through the threshold, when Sasuke held her back.

"Oh, and by the way, Sakura..." he started, as she stopped and turned around slightly to face him. "You look gorgeous in that dress," he complimented as he leaned in to gently kiss her on the cheek. It took her by surprise and all she could do was stand there, frozen in time, feeling his soft lips just graze over her skin ever so softly, as his hand ran tiny circles over her bare arm.

But all of a sudden, it all stopped, as he stepped away, giving her more space to breathe and function normally again. Her arm and her cheek burned with the lingering touches of Sasuke. And in that moment, she just couldn't bring herself to say that she wanted to refuse the stunning dress instead of keeping it. Her mind worked traitorously to keep her mouth shut.

Instead, she squeezed out a quiet "Goodnight" at him, to which he reciprocated, before he turned around to walk stoically off.

Although Sasuke was out of her general vicinity, Sakura still couldn't bring it in herself to start breathing regularly again. That small little kiss on her cheek had really taken her by surprise. Sakura knew Sasuke to be all these negative things – which was why she was so against his very existence. But when he had ever-so-lightly kissed her, it was like being transported through an imaginarium which projects all your wildest dreams and fantasies into real life. It felt a lot like hope.

She quickly hurried through her door and slammed it shut just as quickly. As she slid down the wood onto the floor, cupping her face into her hands, she thought horrifically that Sasuke had just become a lot more... confusing.

.&.

"Fuck!" Sakura quietly muttered to herself. "What am I going to do with this dress?"

It was the morning after Sasuke and Sakura's dinner date and, as Sakura was getting ready for a new day, she had noticed the pale pink dress lazily slung over a chair. She fingered the material, internally debating whether to give it back to Sasuke or to keep it, like he had wanted her to. At the start of the night, she had been happy to give it back, but that was before she tried it on, before Sasuke had complimented her a million times and eyes couldn't stop drifting over her form as she walked through the restaurant. It had gotten to her head a bit, but in her defence, she had never considered herself as pretty or stunning, like so many of those girls that you see in Vogue or Vanity Fair. Plus, when the evening had ended and they were both standing outside of her apartment, she just couldn't bring herself to tell him that she would return the dress to him as soon as possible. Being filthy rich, Sasuke probably had five million replicas of this exact dress at his disposable to give to any girl he went on a date with anyways.

She sighed as she eventually calmed herself and sat down in front of her vanity table and started to do up her hair. She was gazing into the mirror, half zoned out, half focusing on the smooth strokes of pulling her brush through her hair. Suddenly, she spotted something in the reflection and stopped the brushing. Holding out one of her hands in front of her face, she noticed the digits writ messily on her palm.

She had completely forgotten about Gaara! Even through the dinner date with Sasuke, she hadn't noticed the number on her hand or thought about his wise words of caution. Quickly, she grabbed her mobile and dialled in his number.

As she heard the clear ringing tone in her ear, she finally realised that she had no idea what she was going to say.

Finally, the ringing stopped and a clear, baritone voice sprang through the other end. "Hello?"

She wasn't sure why she was even ringing. She had barely even contemplated upon the thought of becoming Gaara's muse, but the idea wasn't exactly appealing to her.

"Hi," she lamely introduced, in a timid voce very unlike her usual character.

"Sakura? Is that you?"

"How did you know?" she squeaked out in surprise that one syllable which was drawn from her lips managed to give her away.

"Well, I was expecting your call sooner or later," he replied quite calmly, unfazed by her unusually nervous, jittery voice. "Have you thought about my suggestion?"

"Yeah, about that..." she stuttered, winding her telephone cord around her forefinger. However, before she could finish, she could hear an exasperated sigh on the other end. She imagined Gaara to be running a hand through that crimson hair of his.

"Sakura... are you free right now?" he asked, with an inkling of hope laced into his tone.

"...Why?" she asked sceptically, assuming it had something to do with taking test shots or some other horrific way to capture her face onto the lens.

"Is that a yes or a no?" he asked, ignoring her question completely.

Sakura couldn't think of anything to do, no excuses to get her out of something she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to go through with, but she replied that she was free nonetheless, although her tone couldn't help but to give away some of her reluctance.

"Good," he simply replied, telling her to meet at an address in Tokyo which she didn't recognise, before he hung up.

She laid her phone gently on her table, sighing exasperatedly at her reflection. She didn't think that her life could get any more complicated, considering that, just a few weeks ago, her life had been pretty much as boring and normal as a student's life could get. Now she had Sasuke constantly bugging her, Naruto not far behind him and Gaara asking her to be his artistic muse...

Finally, she got ready to meet Gaara, lazily tying her hair up into a top-knot and pulling on a pair of light-wash denim shorts, a Wildfox sweatshirt, and a pair of Docs. It wasn't the most glamorous of outfits in her wardrobe, nor was it the most interesting, but for Sakura, comfort and practicality were more important than looking good – of course, she only followed this unspoken rule to a certain extent.

She made her way to the address which Gaara had given, which lead her to downtown Tokyo. The streets were just as busy as the streets at Shibuya crossing, but there was an air around here which was a little bit refreshing and a little bit familiar at the same time. It had a comforting, homely feel to the dainty coffeehouses and the cute boutiques lining the streets.

Sakura marvelled at the sights, openly gasping at the little antics happening around her. Although she had lived in Tokyo all of her life, she had never been to this certain area before. It was foreign to her, in the sense that what she saw around her seemed so alien and so lost to her since living in a polluted city, surrounded by superficial snobs living in their high society.

She finally made her way to a block of loft apartments, where she followed a staircase up to the designated floor. She gently knocked on a door with a number scratched into the wood matching to that on her piece of paper, really hoping that this was the correct address. When a voice called from within, she instantly knew it was Gaara.

"Come in!" he shouted through the door, his voice sounding distant and muffled.

She hesitantly laid her hand on the door knob, scared to twist it open and reveal what was inside. But nonetheless, she sucked in her breath, closed her eyes and counted to three to calm her growing nerves. When she opened her eyes again, she felt much more relaxed, more confident even. She opened the door and took her first small step into the threshold of Gaara's apartment.

The first thing which she noticed as her eyes scanned around the loft was the immense amount of light filtering in through the large windows on one side of the apartment. There were two doors leading to what she expected to be the primary bedroom and a bathroom. The kitchen, living area and dining area were all one room, separated by minimalist book shelves filled with authentic vinyl's and books about art and photography.

"Wow," was all she could say as she flicked her eyes here and there. She finally landed upon Gaara, in a more or less vacant part of the room where the light hit the walls the best. There were no books or clutter in the part of the room, just a sterilised white backdrop, a few softbox lights dotted around and some other large lighting equipment. And then, right there, in her direct line of vision, lay the thing that she absolutely loathed – a camera. It was a Canon digital SLR sitting on a tripod and Gaara was leaning over it, looking into the small eyehole adjusting the settings. She slowly made her way over to him, making sure not to distract him from his concentrated work. However, he soon looked up anyways and gave her a small grin in greeting. He was pleased that she came, albeit a little surprised that she didn't run away; she could clearly tell with the way his eyes lit up ever so subtly. Hell, even she was a little surprised she didn't run away.

Nevertheless, he walked over to her, wearing a pair of skinny jeans in a faded black hue and a loose, dark grey t-shirt with its sleeves ripped off and a scratched band logo stamped on the front. All-in-all, with his crimson hair and a cigarette lazily hanging out of his mouth, he looked like the reincarnation of Sid Vicious and something out of Trainspotting. It was a look that she normally wouldn't go for in a guy, but she had to give it to him – he looked hot.

He gave another small smirk aimed at her, as he swiftly instructed her to put her bag down somewhere and stand on a spot marked with a small 'x' on the white backdrop. She did as she was told, wriggling uncomfortably in her skin, suddenly feeling extremely hot as he took the camera off the tripod and aimed the lens at her face. She couldn't help but to look away, embarrassed at the attention and scuffing her feet on the ground.

"Sakura, relax," he soothed. "I just want to take a few harmless shots." She felt flashes of white hit her skin as he pressed the shutter button a few times.

She shuffled around a little more, her eyes fixedly finding the ground a very interesting subject, before replying, "I'm so sorry, Gaara, but I just can't do this. I'm not a model and I'm really, really un-photogenic!" She didn't want to look at him because she knew that she had disappointed him.

Ignoring her, he sighed out "This setting isn't working."

She blinked at him, knowing that he was totally lying! It wasn't the setting that wasn't working – it was her!

All of a sudden, she felt herself being pulled away by a firm grip on her wrist. Gaara was intently dragging her away from his 'photography corner', away from the backdrop and the intimidating lighting equipment to his main living area. He had a few comfy leather sofas, a large armchair, a television set and a coffee table – the conventional necessities of a living room.

He plopped her down in the large, deep brown leather armchair and then put out his cigarette in the ash tray on the coffee table. He continued to flick through his shelf of records as she watched him do all this with a scrutinising eye, wondering what he was up to. Finally, he found the record he was looking for and headed for the record player. He stuck the vinyl on the top and placed the needle on expertly. She wondered what songs were going to come out of the speakers, but her eyebrows shot up in pleased surprise as the first notes boomed out on maximum volume. She grinned as she recognised the song instantly – Nirvana, Smells Like Teen Spirit.

She sang the lyrics in a hushed, gentle voice as she lightly tapped her boot-clad feet to the beat, fiddling with her hair as she did so. One of her legs was slung underneath her, as she leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes and relaxed for the first time since stepping into Gaara's apartment.

"Sakura, open your eyes," Gaara commanded.

Unsuspectingly, Sakura did exactly that, but she was suddenly blinded by the flash of his camera. And while she was caught in the moment, he pressed the shutter button a few more times as well. Her serene, lightly smiling face suddenly transformed into mixed incredulousness and anger.

"Gaara!" she squealed over the music. She lunged at him, pushing off the armrests with the intent to do some damage to that grinning, charming face of his. However, as he quickly evaded and ran off around his apartment, Sakura quickly ran after him. Much to her irritation, his upper body twisted slightly with his camera pointing behind him as he took some more photos of her whilst she was chasing him. This only fuelled her anger as she tried to lunge at him again. He dodged her smoothly by jumping onto one of his couches and flew over the top of it. Without thinking, she did exactly the same, and flew over the back of the sofa. However, she didn't realise until it was too late that Gaara was calmly waiting for her, lying on his back on the cold wooden, floors. She didn't see the camera right in her face as she came toppling down on top of him. A last, planned click of the shutter was heard before Sakura's body collided with Gaara's, knocking the wind from him.

"Ouch," she said with a defeated huff. She breathed heavily into Gaara's shirt, trying to catch her breath again. However, when she heard Gaara's groan of pain underneath her, she snapped back into reality, finally noticing their compromising position. Sakura was lying on top of Gaara with her hands resting on his chest and his legs wrapped around hers.

She suddenly felt all the heat travel to her cheeks as she blushed a bright red, completely forgetting why she had been so angry in the first place. Her eyes caught direct contact with Gaara's and she saw his face light up in a wicked, suggestive grin, which only made her blush more.

Silently, she pushed herself off him and stood up, trying to push the thoughts of his lingering smell out of her mind. She brushed off the imaginary bits of dust off her clothes, as he too got up from the floor.

An awkward silence enveloped the room, and only the small movements of Gaara could be heard as he flicked through the photos on his camera. She risked a small glance at him, and he suddenly turned towards her with a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Sakura, you've passed the test. You're now my new artistic muse."

"...WHAT?"

Okay, I don't really know what you guys think, but I would personally say this is a prettyyyy long chapter, probably one of the longest I've written. I really packed a lot of events in this chappie and so I felt obliged to end it on a good note... Hope it wasn't a bit too long-winded. Look forward to the next chapter where you'll get to see Gaara's shot of Sakura! Woopp.

Also, I'm really starting to freak out about everything because literally, I've always wanted to be a journalist and study english lit at uni, but I'm suddenly realizing how it's not that easy; journalism is a really competitive career and I'm pretty much failing english at school compared to my other subjects. It's just really stressful especially now that it's like only four months till I go on study leave, which really isn't a long time if you think about it. People are starting to become more self-assured of what they want to do when they're older but I'm the complete opposite. The uncertainty is killing me . Sorry for the life story...