They were entering early summer. The days were growing longer and the nights were growing warmer, but the temperature wasn't why Sarada found herself sweating.
It was well after midnight, well after she should be asleep, but Sarada had been tossing and turning for hours. Every time she closed her eyes a sensual symphony of labored breath and moans of pleasure echoed in her mind. The memory of Boruto's heated touch made her skin tingle with awareness. Her hands rested between her thighs as her knees pressed together, trying to quell the unwelcome arousal stirring in her core.
Even as she replayed that evening in her mind, Sarada still struggled to understand how she allowed the situation to spiral so far out of her control.
She had this deep seeded notion that love would come later (if she could prove herself worthy), so pursuing sexual relationships had been rather low on her list of priorities.
On top of that, she was uncomfortable in her own skin, constantly trying to hide her body. How could she possibly share herself with someone? What if they were also disgusted…?
Making herself vulnerable to potential rejection was more than her fragile heart could bear. The risk didn't feel worth the reward. Though after the events of that evening, Sarada was second-guessing just how good that reward could actually be.
She had lost her virginity one summer in her late teens at an elite ballet camp. She had been desperate to fit in and he was cute enough. It seemed like everyone was fooling around there, despite the fact that nobody actually knew what they were doing.
Her first time had been quick and awkward, and literally nothing like being with Boruto.
Her inability to orgasm back then probably had more to do with her own self-consciousness than her partner's lack of experience. But in the locker room with Boruto, those same insecure thoughts that constantly needled at the back of her mind had dulled completely. Instead, this urgent, all-consuming need dominated her consciousness. She simply didn't have time to worry.
Her only concern had been having more of him. More of his sweet kisses, more of his sinful touch, more of the earth-shattering pleasure each thrust of his hips filled her with.
But once she returned home and that amorous bubble had popped, a bothersome question immediately plagued Sarada's mind — did Boruto actually want her? Or did he want someone?
Just the other week he seemed pretty willing to hook up with Eida before she had revealed she was only trying to use him to further her career. He even admitted he didn't actually like her, despite accepting her physical advances.
Maybe Boruto's pursuit was simply about getting laid. Even if he had whispered a few sweet affirmations to her, Sarada was afraid to assign any meaning to it.
She didn't want to misinterpret the sex as anything more than his physical interest in her. And who's to say he wasn't interested in other girls too?
It wasn't like she offered anything special.
One, and two, and three, four, and grand plié.
Sarada often found technique class soothing. The classical music and slow, repetitive count. She flowed through their usual warm-up, moving in unison with her fellow dancers as mistress Moegi meandered through the room offering notes.
Toes pointed, back straight, chin lifted. Sarada told herself to keep taking deep breaths and stay focused on her movements, but despite the mental reminders, her eyes continued to wander over to Boruto.
And as she had come to expect, those impossibly blue eyes were already looking back at her.
A furious blush bloomed across her cheeks each time their eyes met. His persistent gaze had always made her feel flustered and shy, but now it made her feel naked.
Her heart was beating much faster than it should have been for simple pliés, but Sarada couldn't help it. She was so anxious, wondering if or when Boruto would bring up their sudden tryst in the locker room the night before.
What would she do if he said he regretted it? Did she regret it? Maybe she should just wait to hear how he felt about it and then agree.
Sarada considered approaching him during the short break between technique class and group rehearsal, but when she scanned the studio for him he was already engaged in a conversation with Kawaki and Sumire. She took a seat on the hardwood floor, pretending to adjust her pointe shoes while dark eyes subtly observed their interaction in the reflection of the mirror.
She couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but it seemed like maybe Kawaki was looking for advice. Boruto gestured for Sumire to come closer, placed his hands on her slim waist, and demonstrated how he would hold her for a pirouette.
Sarada's gaze fell to her fingers tracing the ribbons of her shoes. She knew Boruto liked to be helpful, but watching him dance with another girl made her weirdly uneasy. What if he realized he preferred to dance with someone else? Did he think Sumire was a better dancer than her? Or more deserving to be their prima ballerina?!
"Exactly! That was perfect."
Sarada stiffened at the overheard compliment. Perfect? Boruto thought Sumire was perfect?
She spared another glance in their direction and found his hand lingering on her back as the three of them continued to talk. The corner of her mouth curved down as unexpected disappointment churned in her stomach. She couldn't help but wonder how easily replaceable she was to Boruto, both as his dance partner and as the object of his physical interest.
If she thought stolen glances during technique class was rough, then group rehearsal was basically torture.
Every time Boruto talked, she couldn't think about anything but his lips peppering kisses against her racing pulse. Every time she stood in front of him, his warm breath tickled the nape of her neck and sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. And every time he placed his hands on her waist, she kept waiting for one of them to slip between her quivering thighs and touch her like he had in the locker room.
Sarada sighed in relief when rehearsal was finally dismissed. Her skin felt hot and overly sensitive. She needed to get home and stand in a cold shower to banish those salacious thoughts from her mind.
As the other dancers made their way out of the studio, Sarada stayed back to collect herself and take a few hardy gulps from her water bottle. Despite her deep breaths, her heart couldn't calm down after she realized Boruto was taking his time too.
She pretended not to notice him, even as her cheeks turned pink. Maybe if she was lucky he just wanted to chat about their rehearsal schedule or something.
Though that was probably a naive hope, seeing as he waited until everyone else was gone before approaching her. He grabbed the barre beside her for support. "So uh, did you want to talk about yesterday?"
Sarada nearly dropped her water bottle at the question. Dark eyes finally dared to look at him, only to find Boruto was blushing too.
"What is there to talk about?" she mumbled, suddenly bracing herself for his remorse.
He let out an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his head. "I don't know, it's just… I'm not usually so aggressive. I guess I don't want you to think I'm like some caveman kind of guy trying to grab you and fuck you up against the nearest surface."
Her brow rose, surprised how often Boruto seemed to second guess himself. As if he too replayed their interactions in his mind, and questioned his own choices in the heat of the moment.
"Some girls are into that," Sarada muttered, attempting to reassure him he did nothing wrong.
Blue eyes widened in response. "Are you saying you are into that?"
"What?" Her flushed cheeks grew three shades darker realizing how that sounded. "No, I don't know. It's just…" she coughed. "I didn't mind."
Sarada's glanced away, suddenly questioning if she was into that kind of thing. How did people discern if they are more into a specific act or the specific person?
Encouraged by her reply, a smirk tugged up the corner of his lips. "Well, would you mind going to dinner with me this weekend?"
"No, thank you." It was her default answer any time someone asked her to eat with them, but Sarada realized from the shift in his expression that maybe her quick response was a little hurtful. "I mean, I have plans. I'm going to my parents' house this weekend. Plus, I don't think it's a good idea for us to be getting involved given the… rumors."
"Rumors?" Boruto echoed as if he really had no clue what she was referring to.
Her voice grew shy, hating to admit it. "Rumors about why I was chosen to be prima ballerina."
A gentle finger under her chin pushed her head up to meet his gaze. "Anybody who has seen you dance knows why you were chosen to be prima ballerina."
Her heart skipped as she stared into his sincere blue eyes. For a second, she let herself believe he really did mean all the sweet affirmations he bestowed upon her.
As if pulled in by some inexplicable magnetism, Sarada could feel herself inching closer and closer until their noses brushed against each other. She wasn't sure who closed the last little distance, but the next thing she knew her lips were pressed against his in a kiss much more tender than their first. Yet no less breathtaking.
She found herself disappointed when he pulled away sooner than she would have liked. But when he turned around to glance toward the doorway, her ears tuned in to the sound of fine leather oxfords padding against wood floors. The approaching footsteps grew closer and Boruto took a step back, putting a respectable distance between them before his father appeared in the doorway.
"Oh great, you're still here," Naruto said with a bright smile. She imagined he meant Boruto, so her heart stopped when he beckoned her to follow. "Sarada, can I speak with you in my office?"
"We're still rehearsing," Boruto interjected, but Director Uzumaki only chuckled at his petulant frown.
"Oh really? Because to me, it looked like you were standing around chit-chatting," he countered. Boruto scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest in offense, while Sarada was relieved to hear it only seemed like they were talking. "Let's go, Sarada."
Conflicted dark eyes flickered between father and son. She spared Boruto an apologetic wave before ultimately following Naruto out of the studio and down the hall.
Director Uzumaki's office was a modest size with large windows like the other rooms of the studio. Hanging on his bright, white walls were framed posters of the company's three most recent performances all signed by the cast, along with a large portrait of a woman sitting on stage at a grand piano, a lone spotlight shone down on her, making her midnight blue hair shine. His shelves were lined with books and framed family photos, including one of a younger Naruto holding a blonde toddler Sarada realized must be Boruto.
She sat down in one of the plush chairs that sat opposite his desk, resisting the urge to squeeze the thin armrests. What was this about? Had he changed his mind about making her prima ballerina?! He had never asked to speak with her privately like this before.
"How are you doing? Are you settling into the new role okay?" Naruto asked gently. His blue eyes were sympathetic, clearly sensing the nervous tension stiffening her muscles.
"I'm okay," Sarada squeaked.
If she acted too stressed, he'll think she can't handle the role! If she acted too casual, he'll think she's not taking the honor seriously enough! She attempted to swallow the thick lump forming in her throat and get her hypercritical brain to stop stirring up her worst fears.
"I know the first few weeks can be hard, getting used to the spotlight and the additional rehearsals…" The spotlight and lofty expectations were ten times worse than the rigorous rehearsal schedule. "That's why I tried to schedule an adjustment period before diving into your other responsibilities."
Dark eyes widened as a heavy weight settled on her shoulders. The idea that there were other ways she could let Director Uzumaki down was terrifying. Sarada tried to keep her voice steady as she asked, "what other responsibilities?"
"Don't worry, it's all fun stuff," he chuckled with a wave of his hand. Sarada wondered if her thoughts were really so easy for these Uzumaki men to read. "As our prima ballerina, you're the face of the Konoha Ballet Company. That means more events, like our annual fundraiser, and more photo shoots as you'll be featured more prominently on the marketing materials for the summer program. I just wanted to check in with you before adding more to your plate."
"Thank you, I think I'm ready," Sarada nodded, trying to wrap her head around the idea of herself on posters or billboards. "I'll do my best on whatever you need from me."
"I know you will."
She waited to get up until Director Uzumaki dismissed her, but he was hesitating like there was more he planned to say. Each second felt like hours as Sarada braced herself for some kind of brutal feedback Naruto deemed necessary, maybe to prep her for these events.
"I'm sorry," he laughed awkwardly. "This is kind of embarrassing for me, but I wanted to talk to you about Boruto."
Her heart leapt into her throat. Oh fuck.
"I couldn't help but notice you two have grown close…"
She couldn't breathe as images of just how close she and Boruto were last night flashed before her mind. Oh fuck.
He knew they had sex. He knew they had sex in the studio locker room! Oh fuck!
How did he find out?! Did other people in the company know?! Why was she the only one getting in trouble?!
Her mental spiral had her hands shaking anxiously as Naruto continued, "I was just wondering if you could look out for him."
Sarada blinked at him in surprise and confusion, trying to force herself to breathe so she could actually respond. "I'm not sure what you mean…"
He ran his fingers through his hair in the same way Boruto always seemed to when he was struggling to decide what to say. "He won't talk to me about…" Naruto sighed, "about anything really. I just worry that he's lonely is all."
Sarada wasn't sure why he would believe that. Boruto seemed well liked among everyone in the company. But she wasn't really one to argue. "Sure, sir."
Naruto offered her an appreciative smile. "Thank you. That was all."