Taken

"Jealousy? How idiotic. In order to evoke jealousy, the object in question must be of value to that person. I am nothing to him."

"Sasuke! There you are!"

I automatically alter my path. I don't have time to deal with this. Four papers, one conference, two mock trials. And I answered a question wrong in class – an easy one at that. The knowledge that Itachi's lurking somewhere around campus is screwing me over big time.

"Hey, Sasuke!" Unfortunately, I realize this girl is one of the more pushier ones, with absolutely no idea of the concept of personal space. She double pokes me from behind.

"Yes?" I wearily answer. Evading her isn't an option – she's a former champion of the track team, as well as a karate black belt and an extreme Princeton tap dancer on top of whatever else she has the pleasure of informing for the past four months.

"Listen, a group of us are hitting it downtown Friday night..."

"I'm busy."

"Aw, well Saturday night, we've got-" Her six inch heels stop clicking behind me. It is not a miracle. "What the... Who's he?"

I take that as my cue to escape. Only, I stop in my tracks as well, when I catch who's at the picnic tables, eating lunch with a cluster of what appears to be a mix of grad and undergraduate girls. And I recognize most of... actually... I recognize all of them. Oh hell.

"... and at three, our mother threw out the soiled rubber duck, and he cried for a week straight. He was loud enough to alert the neighbors. So our father, thinking big as usual, checked out an entire fifty story hotel in Guangzhou and sent him there, not that it helped the bawling..."

"Ahem." I place a claw on my brother's shoulder, drumming my fingers.

"Ah! Sasuke," Itachi greets. "Would you like an omusubi? Courtesy of the wonderful Japanese Culture club."

The girls are giggling, much to my chagrin. Not to mention the unpleasant tumult in my stomach when I see the way they shyly lean in and lower their eyelids, their predatory line of sight not necessarily focused on me this time.

Itachi feigns ignorance and enjoys the attention. I hate this about him. Instead of steering clear of trouble, he always leaps right into the den of lions, dons on a circus master hat, and makes a mockery of the whole act, scratching their underchins as if they were a litter of kitten.

"No?" he lightheartedly responds to my threatening silence. "Well, the Argentina Alliance brought-"

I must have been assigned the new duty of dragging people around and haven't been aware of it. I ignore the girls' whines. I ignore the turned heads across the courtyards.

When we reach a less populated area of the campus, directly under a bare oak tree, I push Itachi against it. "Explanation. Now."

Itachi flickers back his ponytail.

"Your mood hasn't lightened, Sasuke. Have you eaten breakfast yet?" he innocently inquires, patting the sleeve of his sweater. "Or lunch?"

I want to yank my hair out. Is he purposely messing with me? Stupid question. Of course he is. But I've learned that the length of time that Itachi avoids telling me something is directly proportional to the how horrible that something is. And if it isn't our poor mother or father committing suicide yet – they are on premium health insurance with eight genius doctors that can resuscitate the dead waiting on them – then I can't even imagine what it possibly is.

My mind is racking for answers that Itachi always hide behind that mysterious smile. I search him for any indication of what it may be... death of a relative, national disaster, bankruptcy, divorce...

Itachi brushes aside his bangs. A silver band gleams on his finger.

And suddenly, my mind draws a blank.

"Sasuke?"

My eyes become fixated on the ring. That couldn't possibly be a...

What a ludicrous idea, I mentally slap myself. It isn't as if Itachi is unaccustomed to jewelry.

"You know what, no, no I haven't," I say, exhausted.

"Proper nutrition is important," Itachi admonishes. "Thankfully, your knowledgeable lady friends have recommended me many excellent cafes."

"Itachi..."

"What of Au Bon Pain?" he suggests.

"What?"

"Au Bon Pain. According to them, it's a very popular bakery cafe located at-"

"I know what Au Bon Pain is!" I exclaim. "Girls ask me on a daily basis to go to the lousy Au Bon Pain, which apparently started selling hazelnut chai tea lattes last month but cut back on the bacon! My 'what' is solely reserved for expressing my disbelief that my busier-than-life multimillionaire CEO of a brother flew in from Germany to have some low brand cheesy coffee and bagel with me, and possibly with some dainty side conversations of the weather. Not to mention I'm cutting class for it!" I breathe madly, letting the remaining fumes steam out.

Though startled by my outburst, Itachi quickly recovers. He gives me a soft smile. "The girls will be glad to know you do listen to them. But it doesn't hurt to take up their offers once in a while."

I can't respond to that in any manner except, "Bah!" follow by a shove and stomp. "It'll only encourage them!"

My brother breezily keeps up with my pace, nods his head in my direction. "And what is wrong with that? I noticed you still don't have a girlfriend."

"So what?" I snap.

The smile vanishes. "Sasuke, you are twenty three, you are extraordinarily handsome, and you have had a total of one girlfriend. Whom I've heard you weren't the kindest to."

I wince at his disapproving tone. "Itachi, if you haven't noticed, I'm a tad too busy for relationships. Unlike you, Mr. Perfect, I can't attend five conferences, fly across ten states borders, finish all my research papers, and return before evening to frolic with eight different pretty girls!"

"True, true. But I do have to admit yours are much prettier and devoted," Itachi teases. "Plus, all of the girls here have spirit. Three judo masters, four promising Nobel prize winners, two established authors, eight who saved entire providences, one with all of the above. Oh, and eighteen with, ahem, 'long pretty black hair like mommy's!'"

I cast a death glare. "That phrase will not leave your mouth for the remainder of your stay."

"All I'm saying is that perhaps you should only go to four conferences, fly across nine state borders, leave the research papers to the research partners that I know you have, and return before evening to enjoy a wonderful cup of Java-Twist with any girl of your choosing."

We reach a busy intersection at the edge of campus. I let few final cars pass before crossing the street; Itachi docilely tags along.

"I don't have time for stupid dates," I grumble, as I pull the large glass door of the blasted Au Bon Pain. "Just be glad that I agreed to you at all. Don't push it."

He chuckles, then holds open the second door for me. "Then I guess I should be flattered, mio caro."