I guess you can say that Junior year gave a new meaning to fever pitch.

Even after all the times of complaining that sports weren't my thing, that I totally wasn't a jock, that I didn't have enough time to juggle it, I gave in to Sakura's nagging and joined a sport—to be specific, I joined baseball. I already had a good hand at it, so I was instantly put on the varsity team, which shocked everyone who knew anything about me at all. My parents were thrilled and promised to go to every game—or at least my mom promised, and my dad said he would make every game he could when he wasn't working. It didn't bother me that he couldn't always be there, but sometimes I thought it would be nice to look up in the stands and see him rooting me on. But still, my mom held to her promise and went to every game—except one.

My dad had gotten in a minor car accident that day on his way home from work—one the one day he was going to watch a game of mine—and he was sent to the hospital. He assured me he was absolutely fine, and over the phone he sounded fine, too, but I still wanted my mom to take me with her. She told me not to worry, and to just play my game like nothing happened.

How was I supposed to play knowing my dad was in the hospital? No matter how fine he sounded, there could seriously be something wrong.

No matter, I shook my head to rid myself of any worries, and sat down in the dugout with a smile on my face. I waited throughout the game, waiting for my turn at bat, because the coach told me I would be batting that day for sure.

Still, he continually had to reassure himself that I was okay, because I seemed "off," he said. I told him over and over that I could play, but even with a goofy grin on my face, he still didn't look convinced.

Even then, he let me play, and I got up to bat at the bottom of the ninth inning. There were already two outs, so they told me it was totally up to me here to top off the tied scores. The bases were loaded, so it was definitely my chance. There was a ton of pressure lying on my shoulders, so much that I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it to the home plate. But when I tapped my bat on the ground and got ready to hit the damn ball out of there, I was sure I could. With all of the cheering coming from the stands, I knew I could.

I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes for a moment, then picked my bat up and looked to the pitcher. He narrowed his black-rimmed eyes at me and clutched the ball tight in his right hand. He adjusted his hat around his head, and ended up taking it off and tossing it somewhere. He ruffled his tufts of red hair, never once taking his intent gaze off of me. He looked pretty intimidating, but I'd played his pitches before. He was known to be the best pitcher in all of our area's high schools, and no one had ever hit his pitches—except me. I was his enemy. He snarled a little bit and I just chuckled. He looked to the catcher behind me, shook his head a few times. Shook his head some more. Couldn't he just agree on something! Finally, he nodded. Straightened up. Got ready to pitch.

"Uzumaki," came a voice from behind me somewhere, someone standing behind the fence calling my name. At first I ignored them, but when they rattled the fence and called, "Uzumaki!" again, I rolled my eyes and turned around.

"What!"

There stood Sasuke, hands latched onto the fence. He pressed his whole body to it and looked directly at me, standing next to home plate. He released one hand from its grip and closed it except for two fingers—which he proceeded to lick slowly, and put right in his mouth—all the damn way.

I swallowed once and found that my throat was drier than Death Valley itself.

His fingers moved in and out of his mouth, but then he stopped abruptly, pulled away from the fence, and strutted away casually as if he hadn't done a single thing.

"Strike two!"

"Fuck!" I turned quickly to face the pitcher, who was grinning evilly at me. Apparently I'd been swinging the bat wildly this whole time and completely missing. The coach yelled at me to get my head in and quit daydreaming.

Luckily—very luckily —I hit the very last pitch. The ball soared all the way out of the park and then some. The pitcher let out a few colorful words and threw his glove to the ground as all four of us rounded home plate.

The victory party was held right after at Ino's place (which, by the way, was insanely huge) and everyone congratulated me in turn for how amazing I played, for how close I made it, asking if I did that on purpose for dramatic effect.

My body was suddenly jerked to the side when someone grabbed my hand and yanked me toward a hallway. They shoved me against a door which flew right open, and I fell into a room, stumbling to keep my balance. They followed me in and shut the door behind them, then tackled me into a wall, pressing themselves against me. For a moment, I thought it had been the pitcher from the other team, followed me to make me pay for our victory, but I was proved absolutely wrong when that person pressed their lips against mine, kissing me furiously. They ran their tongue along my bottom lip and forced their tongue in, and soon, I found myself giving in completely.

"You did pretty fucking good today, Uzumaki."