Code SHITHOLE: Part II

Sakura felt herself go numb.

The crowd’s formerly elated chatter descended into a buzz of murmurs as their eyes landed on the couple. Girls gaped enviously (and most of Sasuke’s fanclub members all glared daggers at the lucky bitch) and boys gazed appreciatively--if not hungrily--at Yuina and threw Sasuke indignant glares as if to say, Damn, you ALWAYS get the hottest ones. Why can’t you share, Uchiha?

Did Sasuke somehow trick Yuina into thinking that he wasn’t a playboy?

No shit, Sherlock. Sakura wanted to smack herself on the forehead for the stupid question.

The answer to that stupid question was pretty obvious. But now, the only question remained as to whether Yuina thought Sakura was a lying bitch who wanted to break them up or if she was just passing it as a misunderstanding.

But this time, the answer wasn’t too obvious. Sakura hated not knowing something. From an early age, she hated when people didn’t tell her what was going on or when she couldn’t solve a math problem even after working at it for hours. She would get this discordant sensation of her stomach churning in impatience and discomfort whenever she was in a situation where she didn’t know all the unknown xyz factors.

She suddenly had the unpleasantly familiar desire to throw up all the cocktails and the gourmet treats that lay probably half-digested in her stomach.

Sakura was about to nudge Hinata to discuss about the why-Yuina-was-still-with-Sasuke issue, but she realized that her elbow didn’t make contact with the silky material of Hinata’s dress, but that it met air.

Hinata was gone.

She craned her long snow-white neck to scan the mob for Hinata. Sakura let out a huff of irritation; even in the three-inch heels, she was only 5’7, and that was still too short compared to the six-foot tall giants whose heads she was trying to look over.

She pushed her way into the heart of the crowd to get past the giants, but Hinata’s pure-white virginal cocktail dress and her trademark long and silky blue-tinted midnight hair was nowhere to be seen amongst the crowd of bright, vibrant cocktail dresses and fresh, highlighted blowouts of the KLD crowd.

Yuina, after leaving Sasuke with his circle of friends and admirers (in which Neji surprisingly was not present), looked like she was about to go to where Sakura was standing, but she halted when a microphone-magnified voice rang out clear across the room.

Sakura noticed that there was now a cushion resting on the bottom of the giant cocktail glass. With small interest, she wondered why while she was on the lookout for the Hyuuga heiress.

“Ladies aaand bastards...” Laughter from the audience. “Presenting...Ino Yamanaka, our infamously sexy party hostess!” Kiba, dressed completely in Rag & Bone, crowed into the microphone.

As if on cue, Ino--robed in her red Valentino Roma silk cocktail dress and her pale golden hair in impossibly shiny, loose waves--fell through the chute into the cushioned cocktail glass.

Sakura rolled her eyes at Ino’s over-the-top dramatic entrance.

Everyone (except Ami and Karin, who crossed their arms stubbornly against their suspiciously bigger silicone-filled chests) whooped and cheered in approval. Most of the boys were mostly dazed by how extraordinarily beautiful she was and most girls were staring at her in envy. It was just so hard to stare straight at her face. Only if Ino would get pimples or braces--it would be much easier to look at her face without being temporarily blinded by her beauty.

Ino caught her best friend’s emerald gaze. Sakura pointed at Ami and Karin, and pretended to grasp her chest. Her hands then jerked upward, miming the size of her chest increasing. Her cerise-stained lips mouthed “Seventh?”, and Ino, her being fluent in the mouthing language, had caught onto Sakura’s little “boob job” joke immediately and let out a small amused cackle before regaining soberness.

Kiba handed her the microphone. She stood on the cushion sitting on rounded dome, her vicious heels miraculously not giving way. Kiba was grinning lecherously--probably because he could see up her short cocktail dress. “So, what do you all think? How’s my party?” She asked through the microphone, shooting everyone a toothy Julia Roberts-esque smile.

Her audience screamed responses.

Ino climbed out of the glass rather gracefully for a person who was wearing four-inch Christian Louboutins. “Well, the real fun hasn’t started...yet.”

Still grinning, Kiba helped her out, his large hands grasping her narrow waist and grazing her round butt as he carefully placed her on the platform (this boy sure bounces back fast). She was blissfully oblivious to his subtle groping, too immersed in the audience’s undivided attention towards her.

Attention whore.

The crowd seemed to hold their breaths for Ino’s verdict.

“Are you guys ready?”

“Hell yeah, I’m not going to sit around sipping cocktails with my pinky sticking out in the air all night!” Kiba shouted for the crowd. Everybody nodded in agreement.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Ino yelled at the crowd. “A party is waiting downstairs! Holla!”

The crowd exploded into cheer, louder than before. Right on cue, Kiba and Sai (who had freakishly came out of nowhere) hoisted Ino up on their shoulders, her blonde hair swinging giddily in the air into lovely chunks of gold, and carried her out of the room and down the stairs, with the crowd on their heels. With a loud bang, guests bombarded through the doors that led to the dance floor in the lobby and foyer, where the real party was about to start.

When Hinata opened the door, the bathroom was eerily silent except for the sudden bursts of cheering and hollering that was in the reception room. She could hear Ino yelling “Holla!” and the sounds of the glass doors slamming shut after the guests who were obviously hurrying downstairs as fast as they could to the dance floor.

Everyone had evidently cleared out of the cocktail reception room and was probably having the time of their lives while Hinata was being confronted by her sister after she had caught her fiancé and said sister in some sort of an affair just the night before.

“Hey,” Hanabi greeted her elder sister quietly.

“Hi.” Hinata said flatly back.

She examined Hanabi’s attire--a Zac Posen oyster-coloured taffeta chiffon dress paired with onyx satin Jimmy Choo stilettos. She wore her Hyuuga signature blue-black hair as simple-but-alluring pin-straight and glossy, and a small Swarovski crystal pendant strung on a thin diamond-inlaid gold chain gleamed from the hollow base of her ivory, swan-like throat.

Hinata, with a twinge of jealousy, recognized it as one of the costly gifts from their father for his precious Hanabi’s fourteenth birthday--while on the other hand, he left on a super-important business trip to the states without bothering to wish Hinata happy birthday on hers. It was a simple, bitter reminder that Hanabi was more loved by their father than she was. And of course, Hanabi wore the pendant dutifully everyday.

She probably even showers with it on, Hinata thought, eyeing the necklace disdainfully.

With the exception of the shimmery white eyeshadow strategically applied on the tearducts of her eyes (to give it that extra bright-eyed illusion) and clear-glossed lips, Hanabi’s face was bare. Her style was very similar to how diamond ad models looked like--the dress and her minimally made-up face oozed out sweet-and-innocent, but the heels and her naturally dense long-lashed dusky grey eyes screamed out sex.

Of course, she didn’t need any concealer under her eyes, Hinata noted with resent, fighting the urge to hold up a compact mirror in front of her face, and examine her eyes to see if her concealer was wearing off. Like Daitaro, Hanabi didn’t bother to go after Hinata as she fled to her room. Little Miss Perfect couldn’t risk getting under-eye bags too, now could she?

A ridiculous vision popped into Hinata’s mind: Hanabi and Daitaro lying down side by side on the hammocks at the artificial oasis that was connected with the double H pools. They would be ordering the maid to slice up a cucumber so they could put some on their eyes. Then Hanabi would later on sneak into Hiashi’s room and stick the remaining slices up his nose while he was asleep. Hiashi would be found dead with cucumber slices up his nose the following morning, and in his will, he would have stated that Hanabi would be the clan head instead of Hinata, and as clan head, Hanabi would have Hinata kicked out of the Hyuuga Compound...

“Look, I want to explain what happened with Daitaro and I,” Hanabi said, her voice interrupting Hinata’s absurd fantasy.

“You didn’t seem to want to explain yourself last night that badly,” Hinata said as cattily as she could, pursing her lips.

“What could I do? You weren’t even going to listen to me,” Hanabi protested, her hand fluttering to her throat. Her fingers clutched tightly at the Swarovski pendant like a crucifix that would protect her from Hinata if she attempted an attack.

Hinata momentarily paused. It was kinda true. She did vaguely remember Hanabi calling her, but she just kept on walking away, not even bothering to look back.

“Well?” What kind of explanation did Little Miss Perfect have?

“We shouldn’t talk--here,” Hanabi glanced around nervously for paparazzi who could be hiding in the washroom in hope to eavesdrop on Little Miss Perfect spill her dirtiest secret. “Someone might be listening.”

Hinata fought the urge to roll her eyes at her younger sister’s paranoia. “Hanabi, there aren’t any people other than ourselves here.” She turned to face one of the ornately gold-framed mirrors that lined the wall plastered with familiar-looking wallpaper. Hinata recognized the wallpaper as Laura Ashley Connemara Cinnamon--she knew the Laura Ashley online catalogue front and back because she spent a good deal of her summer looking at new furniture and wallpapers for her bedroom renovation.

Hinata tried to turn her focus to her reflection in the mirror. Her concealer, which was dabbed under her dark-bagged eyes was wearing off, but other than that, her skin was flawlessly smooth, her grey eyes shined like stars under thick, amplified eyelashes, and her hair was glossy to perfection.

Hinata’s eyes shifted towards Hanabi’s reflection behind hers.

The smooth lifted planes of her sister’s perfectly proportioned face impeccably mimicked on the mirror made it seem as if their reflected moment was a realism proportion painting. Which, in Hinata’s opinion, would’ve been named The Aftermath of a Fucked Up Affair.

The artist had captured the girl in front staring contemptuously towards the right with her starry grey eyes, another girl with the same grey eyes placed just so on the right side behind the first girl, whose eyes seemed to shift back and forth nervously as if she was making an attempt albeit horribly to cover up something...and a sliver of red hair peeking out from the slightly opened door-

Hinata whirled around in shock so fast that she wouldn’t have been surprised if Hanabi was blown back from the impact. She heard the door clicking shut before everything went completely silent. Hinata could’ve sworn she heard a faint giggle and the sounds of retreating footsteps muffled by the velvet carpet.

“What?” Hanabi cried in alarm.

Hinata stared challengingly and cynically at the doorway, as if she was silently daring the unknown redhead to reveal herself.

Or himself. Hinata added silently as she walked with slow, tentative steps that crossed the bathroom in a pace that seemed to drag on forever. Eavesdropping bathroom stalking doesn’t discriminate.

“What?” Hanabi repeated. “Hinata-?”

Hinata flung open the door after silently hoping that the sounds were just figments of her wild imagination and that there would be a painting hanging on the opposite wall with red in it, and that all Hinata had seen was a sliver of red on the painting, and not of an eavesdropper who was spying on them...

Then who opened the door--and shut it? A small voice Hinata decided to ignore nagged.

With a jolt of horror, she realized that there was no painting on the wall that was close enough to the bathroom door. And the walls were cream-coloured, bare of any colour except for the crisp apple-green molding lining the ceiling and the floor.

She knew she wasn’t seeing things. She had twenty-twenty vision. She couldn’t.

Hinata didn’t bother stepping out of the bathroom, because she already knew the unknown eavesdropper probably made a run for it.

Maybe she was overreacting. She hadn’t said anything too revealing, so the eavesdropper probably didn’t get much to eavesdrop on, right?

But Hanabi...

“I want to explain what happened between Daitaro and I”, she had said.

Hinata breathing froze sharply as realization dawned on her.

While it wasn’t completely blunt, it wasn’t vague enough. Anyone who overheard could probably guess what it meant. “I want to explain what happened between insert person’s name here and me” was the most popular way to start an “I made out/slept with your boyfriend” confrontation.

Or in their case, “I made out/slept with your fiancé”.

The cocktail reception floor was almost completely empty. Most of the party guests had disappeared to the first floor. The real party evidently started--the speakers now blared out “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga and judging from the noise level, Sakura could hypothesize that most of the guests were screaming out the lyrics while jumping up and down, while a select few girls danced in the hands-over-the-head à la Paris Hilton. The empty cocktail glasses and half-full champagne and sherry bottles lined up at the bars clinked together, making delicate plings whenever the people jumped more violently while yelling out “Just DANCE!” in louder voices to emphasize the title of the song.

Sasuke had gone with the rest of the people, and Yuina followed suit. Naturally.

Meanwhile, Sakura sank broodingly into one of the white couches by the bar, her eyes boring into the fireplace. She stared at the merging red and orange flames.

“Hey, Sakura,” Azami poked Sakura’s pale arm. “Don’t you think he’s hot?”

Sakura followed Azami’s gaze to the guy she was ogling.

“Him?” Sakura’s blushing cheeks betrayed her true feelings as she saw who Azami was looking at. It was none other than Sasuke Uchiha, who had just come back from his prestigious Swiss boarding school, which he had attended for the last three years at the Uchiha matriarch’s suggestion, for “a refreshing change” in scenery and culture. Rumour was that he got the boot for being too rebellious. If the rumours were true, Fugaku Uchiha was likely to be disappointed in his younger son (as if there was a time he never wasn’t), but due to Sasuke’s new reputation as a “sexy badass”, more girls fell for him, and ergo, the Uchiha fangirl population had increased tremendously.

“He’s...okay, I guess.” She said as viciously as she could, remembering how he had rejected her harshly on Valentine’s Day in fourth grade. But he was just too gorgeous to lie that he was “okay”. In fact, Sakura found that his aristocratically handsome face, which had lost most of the childish roundness, was now more defined and even more beautiful than before.

With the summer makeover and having Azami Ishihara, the current prettiest girl in the whole grade, by her side as her new BFF, Sakura was unrecognizable to everyone from KLD--even with the facts that a) she had unearthly hair, nonetheless PINK, and b) she had attended school with them for almost six years. Sasuke hadn’t recognized her either, even when they passed each other down the hall numerous times on the first week of school. She figured that she was just too invisible before, and now, she was definitely somebody to remember.

Oh, and that she had practically changed her identity over the past years he was gone.

“Okay?” Azami repeated incredulously. “He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen! He kinda looks like one of the male models who walked for Armani in Milan last year.”

Due to all the celebrity and fame connections the Ishihara family had, Azami got VIP seats at probably every fashion show that existed in the world, and literally had been a regular at Fashion Week since she was potty-trained. Just last year, Azami had scored tickets for Sakura to be with her at Milan Fashion Week while she sat next to Anna Wintour. And there, Azami pointed out the male Armani model to Sakura, and Sakura had to admit, he did have an uncanny resemblance to Sasuke with his instinctively smoldering obsidian eyes, high chiseled cheekbones, six feet of gorgeous toned build, and dark messy-chic hair.

“But he has no interest in girls whatsoever!” Sakura argued, trying to steer Azami’s interest away from him. “And besides, he has too many fangirls for you to deal with, Azami. You have better luck with the guys from Yuukaku Academy. I heard they already have girlfriends, but they’re all over you.”

Just last week, Azami took Sakura with her on the beach to meet up with some hot guys one year older than they were from Yuukaku Academy, an all-boys private school that was in Kyoto, an hour away. To Sakura’s shock, Azami’s intention all along was to go to second base with all six of them, but only to ignore their constant calls and text messages the next day. Sakura always thought that dating and kissing a guy in seventh grade was alluring enough, but second base? And ditching them afterwards? It was certainly admirable for a mere seventh-grader, which was why it was only something Azami could do, Sakura had decided.

“They were just a fling, Sakura,” Azami responded in a matter-of-fact voice, rolling her eyes at her friend’s naive remark. Then, she grinned mischievously. “Now, about Sasuke Uchiha? He’s WAY too good to pass up. And those pathetic fangirls? No problem--those girls will just have to cry and deal with reality: Armani Boy is now officially Azami Ishihara’s catch of the month,” she declared, her amethyst-violet eyes eyeing Sasuke as if he was a impossible-to-get Yves Saint Laurent Muse bag on sale.

Sakura bit her lip and tore her gaze away from said dark-haired boy.

The next day, in front of everyone in Phys. Ed, Azami boldly went to him, deliberately flaunted her perfect B-cupped slender body in booty shorts and a tight wife beater, and flirtatiously dropped a few lines and asked him his name, and boom! Her phone number magically appeared in Sasuke’s speed dial, and vice versa.

Four days later, Azami talked Sakura into going on a double-date with her and Sasuke. Sakura had brought an unwilling Shikamaru as her double-date victim, who only came because Sakura had threatened him with unusual forms of torture.

Their date was taking place at Bel Cibo, a restaurant specializing in Italian cuisine, which was a desired first-date location for many Konoha inhabitants. As well as having a desired candlelit romantic atmosphere, it was exclusive and private; disguised as a luxury yacht, it was only known to those who qualified: in other words, you just had to “know”. Sakura tried not to flinch when Azami introduced Sasuke to her (“Sakura, as you know, this is Sasuke. Sasuke, this is my best friend Sakura.” “O-oh, hi.” “Hn.”)

A week later, Azami and Sasuke were proclaimed as the biggest “it” couple in the middle division of KLD (because the position of the biggest “it” couple of the whole school already belonged to Itachi and Tamako)--and the “it” couple was also known to be short-lived. They broke up after about three weeks for a reason that no one was sure of. Some said that Azami was cheating on him and he had found out. Or vice versa. But either way, it was then known to everyone that Casanova Ken and Seductress Barbie didn’t make a good match. Too much alike, everyone said.

Sakura hadn’t asked Azami about the abrupt breakup, scared that Azami was going to get mad at her for prying too much and for bringing up bad memories. So she just let it slide--for now.

And it was too late by the time Sakura decided to finally ask Azami to spill all at their second annual winter break sleepover retreat to Azami’s beach house at Lake Ikeda.

Because that night, Azami died.

“Hey.”

Sakura looked up, momentarily burying her thoughts. “Tennie! Where were you all this time?”

Tenten sighed and blew a strand of hair that was hanging in her eye. “Long story. You wanna drink with me?”

She looks like she just got mugged, was the thought that popped into Sakura’s mind as Tenten’s slightly disheveled appearance caught her eye.

Tenten did look more...wild than usual. Her chestnut curls, seeming to crackle with electricity, were thick and untamed around her face, her high cheekbones were flushed with pink, and her amber-hazel eyes now shined with a fiercer glint to them. Almost defiant.

“Okay,” Sakura agreed, standing up from the couch.

As they were waiting for their orders to come up, Tenten struck a conversation in which Sakura didn’t really desire to converse in.

“So, what are you going to do about Yuina? I saw her with Sasuke downstairs. He probably pulled a little innncent-me trick on her, that bastard.”

Sakura frowned, the perfect curve of her pouty lips tilting downwards. “I don’t know yet. Maybe I should give it up.”

“No!” Tenten gasped melodramatically. “You can’t lose, or Ino’s going to be so thrilled. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Sakura tried to smile, but instead she grimaced.

“And besides, that Uchiha needs to be taught a lesson. He needs to know what it feels like to be thrown aside,” she continued, undoubtedly referring to all the poor girls that had the misfortune of getting dumped by Sasukeà la Casanova. “And you can do it. Throwing him aside, I mean. First, you date him, and then make sure he finds out that dating him was just a dare. That’d break his ego,” Tenten finished with a satisfied grin.

“Uh huh,” Sakura replied in a distracted voice, twisting the Cartier diamond ring around and around her pinky. “Throwing him aside. Right. That is supposed to be the plan.”

If I get my revenge on him...that won’t make me any better than he is. Sakura frowned again, her index finger absently tracing the rim of the champagne flute she now held.

No. Her inner bitch argued. He deserves it. He hurt you. He smashed your heart. But now, you have the perfect opportunity to smash his little ego back, so use it to your advantage.

Tenten stared at her. That definitely was not the reaction she thought she would get. Tenten thought they would be exchanging conspiratorial snickers and triumphant high-fives by now.

“Um, Sak? Sakura had looked more troubled than approving to Tenten.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sakura announced, her eyes slightly glazed over from the alcohol, but glittering with mischief. She had decided.

Her eyes hardened into green marbles. She was going to get revenge, and was going to enjoy every last minute of it.

Tenten had begged Sakura to spill the beans about her plan, but Sakura decided that a nice long drink would definitely: a) lift her spirits, and b) bring more enthusiasm from Tenten and less guilt-talk.

“To our good health,” Tenten said almost jokingly, raising her glass in mock toast and clinking it with Sakura’s glass. “Bottoms up.”

“And tops on, if you please,” Sakura supplied, giving her a tiny smile. That was KLD upperclassmen’s infamous catch phrase that came after.

So as they were drinking to their good health, i.e. “curing their past’s insanities”, the two girls in this story forgot that in most cases, including their own, results with that “one drink to good health” become a dozen, and...

“Guys suck,” Tenten said savagely, who was now at this point a little tipsy on her barstool, the colour in her cheekbones even ruddier than before. “They break your heart, and after you’ve just healed it, they come back with their whiny coward asses, hoping that you’d take them back, even after all the shit they did to you. Like what the fuck is their problem?”

“I know,” Sakura said emphatically, slamming her drink with a large bang on the granite counter. “They are such bastards. I don’t even know why we bother to spend all our time on them. They harshly reject you because they don’t know shit, and then years later, when they realize they made a mistake, they pretend nothing happened, much less apologize. Fuck them.”

Sounds like little Sakura-chan is finally putting her life story out to the public. Life story = Her Fourth Grade Loser-ness Lament or, The Valentine’s Day Fiasco.

“Assholes.” Tenten added in conclusion, taking another glass of Moët & Chandon champagne.

A pregnant silence followed, but both girls burst out laughing as the song playing softly from Bose speakers that surrounded the bar switched to “7 Things” by Miley Cyrus. It was just too coincidental that a song about guys being jerks started playing right after they were talking about...well, guys being jerks.

Okay, it really wasn’t that funny, but their half-drunken states exaggerated a few giggles into full-blown, stomach-clutching laughing. They stopped when the song switched to a screamo.

“Holy shit,” Tenten slurred, wiping her teary eye and in the process, smearing her warm-toned sparkly eyeshadow. Then she turned serious, as if hearing Miley Cyrus was a splash of sobering cold water in her face. “Now, enlighten me about your plan, Miss Saki. I’m dying to hear about it.” The brunette rested her pointed chin on clasped petite hands.

“Remember when Ino told us there’s going to be a karaoke contest...”

The Foyer

Ground Floor, Konoha Country Club

Monday September 8th

9:54 p.m.

“Sasuke-kun!” Yuina’s whiny voice had killed Sasuke’s party buzz--again. Sasuke turned around, slightly annoyed.

He ran his fingers through his ebony spikes. Sasuke knew an Uchiha getting dumped was simply undone, but now, he wished otherwise. He wished that he didn’t stop Yuina when she had called him up to break up with him. Yuina was too...clingy for a girl who had just met him today.

“What?” Sasuke’s voice revealed too much of his thoughts--even an idiot like Naruto would have noticed the grumpy air that surrounded the tone.

Her elated smile slid off her face like mud. “What’s wrong?” She asked, laying a petite pale hand on his toned bicep.

“Nothing,” he replied curtly.

Irritating, he ground out silently. The only reason he didn’t say that out loud was because he didn’t want a damper on this night by having to deal with Yuina, who would probably cry if he uttered one mildly negative word.

And besides, who wasn’t irritating to him?

“Well, okay,” Yuina said in an uncertain voice. “Just checking.” She turned to talk to Shina, who was gaping openly at them just a while ago.

Sasuke rolled his eyes and started to walk towards Naruto, who had a gaggle of girls surrounding him, tittering at some lame joke he probably just told them.

“Dobe.” He greeted Naruto flatly.

“Hey, bastard,” Naruto replied cheerfully. “Still got that stick up your ass, huh?”

Sasuke let out a feral growl, hoping that Naruto and the giggling girls took it as a warning that he was reaching exploding point.

But the “animalistic, hungry sex beast” growl just made the girls swoon. Ooh, kinky.

“I heard from Aya that he growls like that whenever they--you know,” one of the girls unabashedly and blushingly said in a stage whisper, earning more embarrassed but thrilled giggles.

Naruto cleared his throat, and looked slightly uncomfortable. “Um, girls, I think me and the bastard need to discuss something, so I’d appreciate it if you’d all...give us privacy.”

Bastard and I, Sasuke corrected Naruto grimly inside his head.

They pouted, but reluctantly evacuated, but not before giving Sasuke come-hither winks (which he undoubtedly ignored) and air-kisses to Naruto (which he couldn’t ignore).

Not that they’d mind if Sasuke blew up. He’d be a hot, angsty mess.

Yum.

“Whoa, I was kidding about the stick,” Naruto said, holding his hands up in surrender. “So chill, for God’s sake. Loosen up so we can have some fun with these hot chicks.” Here, he gave the bleached blonde girl who was part of the entourage a wink, who blew him another kiss in return.

“I can’t,” Sasuke replied. “Because of Yuina.”

Naruto’s cerulean eyes widened. “I thought that chick was alright.”

“I thought so too,” Sasuke muttered. “But she’s too...”

“Clingy?” A voice finished for him.

Sasuke turned around swiftly. “Hyuuga? Where the hell were you this whole time?”

Neji rolled his grey eyes at Sasuke’s arrogant bossy voice. “I was...busy. Anyways, what’s that I hear about your new girlfriend? You’re sick of her already? I knew this was going to happen. Yuina’s aura and zodiac doesn’t really complement yours very well.”

What’s with all the zodiac and aura bullshit? “If you did, why didn’t you bother telling me?”

Neji shrugged. “I thought my theory was going to turn out different. It seemed like you truly enjoyed her...companionship. Anyway, you’re right, Uchiha. She’s too clingy for your taste.”

“I’m dumping her tonight,” Sasuke declared. “I have to.”

“Dump her at a party?” Naruto asked incredulously. “Teme, that’s kinda harsh, even for you. The only time you’ve ever been this harsh was when you dumped Aya at that Café-what’s-it-called. But Aya deserved it, ‘cause she’s a huge bitch, but Yuina’s actually really nice.”

Café-what’s-it-called? Neji almost repeated out loud, amused. Of course. It was so Naruto when he couldn’t remember any other restaurant names other than the Ichiraku, a restaurant famous for specializing in ramen only.

“But I can’t stand her.” Sasuke said through gritted teeth. “She is just... too...annoying.”

Naruto rolled his cerulean blue eyes. “Whatever. Just let me know when you’re not being pissy anymore.”

Cue patented Uchiha glare directed at Naruto.

“So later.” Naruto lowered into a disgustingly sleazy voice and jerked a thumb at his entourage of girls. “They are begging to be in my presence again.” Then he turned and pranced away, obviously relishing in the fact that for the first time, there were more girls fawning over him than Sasuke.

“Well, Hyuuga, I have to say that you’re rubbing off on him,” Sasuke commented, leering at Naruto, who was pulling a Neji-esque move on one of the girls. “And maybe he’s doing it better,” he added, leaning into a casual slouch against a roman column that supported the second floor.

Neji ignored the jab. “By the way, why’d you go to Naruto for advice? I think a monkey would’ve done a better job.” He stretched his arms casually. His Hugo Boss dress shirt ascended up with his muscular arms, revealing his navel and his toned eight-pack, winning ogles from passing girls.

Man-whore, Sasuke was about to say, but thought the better of it. It wasn’t like he was any better.

“So how is your little pet doing?” Sasuke instead retorted, smirking at Neji’s sour expression that now graced his face.

“She’s angry.”

“Oh, is that so? What’d you do now, Hyuuga?”

“We...got into a little...argument.” Neji answered grudgingly. “So...have you seen Sakura-chan today?” He asked with detectable malice laced in his words. He knew changing into the topic of Sakura Haruno would annoy Sasuke the most. “She looked quite gorgeous. Far prettier than any of the girls I’ve seen today. Perhaps even more than-”

“Don’t start,” Sasuke cut in, an uncharacteristically ugly scowl marring his otherwise handsome features. “The last thing I want to hear is her name.” Behind him, he could sense a forming crowd. An upbeat Katy Perry song that he absolutely loathed began to play out of the speakers, and he heard Kiba yell “Karaoke contest!”

“What about the last thing you see?” Neji pointed at something behind Sasuke, his eyes glittering with silent amusement.

Sasuke turned around.

He had to catch himself before his mouth fell open.

Sakura, who (Sasuke had to admit, albeit reluctantly) looked much nicer (which was an understatement) than most of the other brightly-frocked girls at the party, was on the stage. There was a microphone clutched by slender, French-manicured digits, and her lips were curled into a closed-lipped, self-satisfied smile.

Sasuke knew that smile. It was the smile that Sakura donned before she pulled one of her strategically clever tricks or when she triumphed.

His eyes narrowed. It was Sakura’s dangerous smile.

Dangerous or not, Sakura still looked like a beautiful angel. With the stage lights beaming on her radiant skin and her champagne-gold shutter dress clinging softly onto the sweeping feminine curves of her willowy body, she beat all the girls with their overly made-up faces and too-tight micro-mini dresses. Sasuke had to admit (although never out loud) that Sakura was the expert on how to use classy and beautiful clothes and subtle makeup to bring out her purely natural, and yet ethereal beauty.

Neji was right. Sakura had changed from the seventh-grade flat-chested underdog of his ex, Azami Ishihara into something...well, into something.

It just hurt to admit it.

“Now, our sexy hostess is a little tired from all the...dancing, so I’m going to take over on the job as the karaoke contest judge,” Kiba announced to the vast crowd that had assembled around the tiny stage to either partake or watch the little spectacle. “Now first up, as you can see, is our equally sexy Sakura Haruno, so give her a big round of applause, people!”

Cue unnecessarily enthusiastic applause.

“Before I’m going to sing, I’d like to dedicate this song to a very special friend of mine,” Sakura began, flashing rows of pearly, laser-whitened teeth. Boys in the crowd wolf-whistled and one of them shouted “You’re hot!” Sakura let out a little giggle at the flattery. Sasuke noticed her words were a little slurred and that her bright viridian eyes seemed darker than usual.

She’s drunk, he realized. And he knew that drunken Sakura was probably even worse than sober Sakura.

Shit.

“This song is for Yuina Asari, in hope that this song will be informing and will teach her something valuable.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Yuina’s face contort in confusion.

People exchanged uneasy glances, as if they were about to witness another girl-battle triumph of Sakura Haruno, although they didn’t quite know what the real deal was between the new girl and the queen bee. The new girl was sitting at the table and introduced to the public as the new but unofficial addition to the Kunoichi clique, and everyone who didn’t live in a cave recognized the party hostess’s infamous Nicole Miller that Yuina had on.

Oh, the calamities of being with the ever-so-fickle popular. One second you’re best friends forever. Then they’re out to rip your throat.

Watch out, they have diamond-encrusted knives.

Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t an innocent dedication. Informing? Puh-lease, as Ino would say, rolling her eyes. It sounded more like Sakura was implying that this song would likely embarrass Yuina in front of everyone including her new boyfriend, and in her words, “would teach Yuina a valuable lesson”.

The rumours about Sasuke and Sakura having a secret relationship weren’t completely repelled as he hoped when he had decided to take Yuina to the party, but they were dying out. People were surprised to see Yuina at his side, clutching his arm, and not Sakura. There were now new rumours about the flirting at the assembly. Some said that the two leaders were forced into doing it because they lost a bet. Others said that everything was staged to prove that they were the best actors in the school so that they would get the lead roles in the school play again. Another said that Sasuke was doing it to make Yuina jealous.

“I heard Sakura is really good at singing”, another girl said loudly in a God, what can’t this girl do? kind of voice to her friends, something that irritated Sasuke more than anything. “A talent agent heard her sing at some festival that her parents were throwing for some charity and offered her a recording contract, but she rejected it. She said she didn’t have singing in mind as a career, but I think she just did it to play hard to get.”

Now, more people were whispering about Sakura, musing over what was going on now. Sasuke could hear some of them making far-fetched guesses that Sakura had a burning love for Sasuke all along, and that she was now getting Yuina back for stealing away her secret love.

He rolled his eyes. “Secret burning love” for him? Couldn’t they see that Sakura Haruno hated him?

“Ooh, KLD’s biggest love story,” Sasuke then heard some of the many Sakura-admirer girls squeal excitedly to each other. “It’s just like Romeo and Juliet! Sakura is going to sing and make Sasuke fall for her, just like Romeo did! That’s so romantic!”

He scoffed. Romeo? Sasuke was rather offended at being compared to that coward. He always thought Romeo was a little pathetic. What kind of idiot committed suicide without checking for a pulse in Juliet?

She was only in a coma, dipshit.

And since when were their families against each other? Mikoto and Umeko, Sakura’s mother, were acquainted socialites, and Sakura’s father and his father were business partners on fairly good terms. She was about to stay at his house for three weeks, for God’s sake, and from what he could see, Mikoto adored Sakura, like most adults, with the impression that Sakura was “sweet”. The proof was all there in black and white when Umeko phoned Mikoto and asked her if Sakura could stay at their place while both families went to Paris because they absolutely could not trust the maids with Sakura for three weeks, Mikoto agreed with no hesitation, saying that it would be no problem, seeing as her widdle Sasuke-chan would be positively delighted.

And he was. It would be better having her in his watchful eye. “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer” was Sasuke’s unconscious motto.

Besides, there was no way that he could fall for Haruno, right? It was Sakura, for God’s sake. She was his rival. She was his competition. She hated him.

And he hated her. Sort of.

Then what was up with her that morning? Sakura, who usually had nothing to do with him in a romantic or flirting way whatsoever, had changed into something disorienting and just plain...weird. One second she was sitting on his lap flirtatiously and made a scene in front of the KLD student body, and the next--

--she had jumped off his lap as if she was burned by the mere contact of his skin as soon as everybody lost interest in them, and changed back into her usual sarcastic and biting self that enjoyed having (and winning) dissing contests with him.

What the hell was wrong with this world? And more specifically, what was wrong with him for thinking about her?

With a silent signal from Kiba, one of Ino’s cheerleader squad girls ran up to the LCD projector to start one of the karaoke videos Ino had pre-downloaded from YouTube for the karaoke contest.

The stage lights dimmed and pop music started playing as the screen displayed the karaoke video, which started with the title and artist of the song in white sickeningly curly font against a midnight blue background.

Behind These Hazel Eyes. Kelly Clarkson.

Sasuke’s jaw slackened in recognition. He knew this song pretty well, mainly because many of his rejected girl toys sent him mixed CD containing I-got-played-by-an-asshole songs as attempts to make him feel guilty for playing them. And this was one of the most-downloaded ones.

And as if the situation couldn’t get any more ironically funny in a fuck-my-life sort of way, Yuina’s eyes were hazel.

The Tent

Konoha Country Club Grounds

Monday September 8th

10:00 p.m.

Actually, unlike what Kiba said, Ino wasn’t tired at all. She just didn’t feel like judging a karaoke contest at the moment, so she had Kiba judge in return of having a little harmless make-out session with him as payment.

And she could still taste Kiba’s Altoids Cinnamon Gum on her tongue. Ino winced. She hated Cinnamon.

Ino didn’t feel like doing anything party-related that night. She felt as if she were a damper on her own party, and excused herself to save her guests from a party downer of a hostess.

And like her friends, she was hiding a little secret of her own. It seemed like last night was a scandalous night for everyone, including her.

Ever since she was young, she knew her family wasn’t what it seemed on the outside--one of Konoha’s many facades. Sure, her family was from one of the oldest high-classed and richest clans in Japan and had oodles and oodles of unlimited wealth. Ino knew she was supposed to be happy with all the luck she got from being born a Yamanaka, but like girls who got everything they wanted, she was always wanting a little more.

For instance, a non-dysfunctional family.

One time, she remembered going to the Elysian mall with her mother and older brother Hideko for Christmas shopping when she was about four and Hideko was nine. Her father had stormed out from one of the many heated arguments about probably some stupid thing with his wife just the night before, probably going out to some casino in which he was probably going to gamble about a three hundred grand and drink to his heart’s content.

Before shopping, her mother dropped Hideko off at the video game store and took Ino to Santa’s Workshop, which was where most parents brought their little kids to find out what they wanted in a secretively clever way. While Ino sat on the red velvet-clad lap of Santa and her stubby and short four-year old fingers unconsciously braiding his fluffy white beard, he had asked her what she wanted for Christmas, and, to everyone’s surprise (especially her horrified mother’s) she had truthfully replied that she wanted her parents to share a bedroom again instead of demanding for a pony and/or the Barbie Dream House including every piece of furniture that was sold separately.

Jeez. Those old sayings weren’t lying when they said kids were too honest.

The mortified Mrs. Yamanaka had whisked her daughter off of Santa’s lap, and looked all shifty-eyed, as if some of the Konoha socialite mothers who were standing in line had heard that the picture-perfect enviable family was slowly falling apart. But luckily, judging from the fact that there was no tip-off to the papers about it since that day, it was safe to assume that no one heard.

And just right after the stake-out at Hinata’s house, she brought Tenten and Sakura back to her house to resume the sleepover. She had gone downstairs while they were watching Breakfast At Tiffany’s for the umpteenth time (at Sakura’s request, since she was a huge fan of Audrey Hepburn) to get another batch of low-fat chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies that the Yamanakas’ personal chef Naomi had left inside the oven, and as she passed the living room from the route back from her kitchen, what she saw on the leather sofa almost made her drop the batch of cookies on the floor in shock.

It was her father and another woman, locked in an embrace so tightly that it was too obvious that they were more than just friends. As they started kissing hungrily like Virginity Club sex-starved maniacs who had just snapped, Ino almost let out a squeak of surprise. Her father hadn’t noticed his daughter’s lithe shadow at the open doorway, probably because he was too preoccupied with his mistress, whose skirt zipper he had pulled down at that moment, which was when Ino had to tear her eyes away. Flabbergasted at what she had just witnessed, Ino had fled back upstairs, dropping oatmeal cookies all over the creamy Cosmic Latte-coloured velvet carpets and high-gloss finished hardwood of the stairs as she went.

As Ino staggered back into her room Sakura and Tenten turned from Ino’s flat screen TV to face her. Now that she was “jogging through memory lane” (as the lame saying put it), Ino realized that she must’ve looked like a person having a seizure, because she remembered shaking in pure outrage and disgust for another good twenty minutes. When they asked her what was wrong, she just shook her head. When Sakura asked her where the cookies were, Ino had lamely lied that there weren’t any left after all.

She just never imagined that her father would ever do such a thing. Sure, her father and mother didn’t get along most of the time, but in the end, they always got back together again. Ino knew that they still loved each other, and all the past arguments and fights were because of their differences. Or at least she thought. Questions flooded her troubled mind. Did her mother know about her husband’s mistress? How long was her father going on affairs? Was she his only mistress?

Ino tried to remember what the woman looked like. From the darkness, she couldn’t really make out a perfect outline of her face, but she had managed to detect long wavy brown hair and a Hooters-girl-worthy body with the whole shiny package of surgically-enhanced C-cups, a tiny waist, round ass, and highly coveted never-ending legs. Her mother’s classy patrician features with pale golden locks, long-lashed heavily lidded eyes, and the slender leggy figure with zero-percent body fat was no match for the sultry hourglass-figured slut when it came to everything that mattered to men in general: power, sex, money, and more sex.

Mrs. Yamanaka had gone to the Bahamas for a little spa vacation with her millionaire trophy wife friends. Ino, with another jolt of repulsion, had remembered that her father was the one who urged his wife to go on vacation (“take a little break from all the stress, honey, you’re always overworking yourself”). Had he just planned it out purposely so he would be free for a whole week of Adulteryville?

She stepped into the tent, which was filled with the exact same furniture in the cocktail reception room--white overstuffed sofas, sleek onyx-framed glass coffee tables laden with bowls of assorted Godiva chocolate truffles and flickering cream-coloured jasmine-scented candles, and soft ivory sheepskin rugs. A soda fountain was installed in one corner, and a buffet table including all of Ino’s favorite all-vegetarian spa foods was placed at the back. And this was purchased with maxing out her lovely adulterer daddy’s credit card--revenge.

The overpowering stench of alcohol and an unpleasant mix of various perfumes and colognes hit her nose. Her ski-slope nose wrinkled in disgust. It was worse than the Hamptons party P. Diddy hosted that she and Sakura scored invites to last summer...

Ino spotted Naruto and a blonde girl who Ino recognized as a star swimmer on the KLD girls’ swim team cuddling together on one of the overstuffed sofas. They hadn’t even noticed her coming in. When Naruto pulled out a successfully knotted cherry stem out of his mouth and seconds later, the blonde girl also proudly presenting hers, Ino realized that they were having a cherry knotting contest, a favorite among many KLD upperclassmen. The point of the game was to see who was most skillful with the tongue, nudge nudge.

Ino, with another twinge of nostalgia, remembered that Azami was one of the few daring seventh-graders to partake in the game whenever the KLD upperclassmen decided to play it at one of their A-list parties, to which their whole clique was invited, thanks to the infamous connections of Azami Ishihara. Of course, Hinata and Sakura were too shy to play the game and Tenten, aggravated at her failure after numerous trials, had declared that the game was bullshit, but Ino, who had surprisingly succeeded at the second try, was thrilled that she was finally going to be recognized as being cool to even the upperclassmen. After all, only the cool students at KLD played--and won--this game.

Other than Naruto and the blonde girl, everyone else in the tent were considered inactive. The latter dozed together in a group as big as four people on the sofas and even sprawled across the fluffy sheepskin rugs, their taut arms and tanned legs entangled and woven around each other’s. She recognized most of them--Naruto’s ex-girlfriend Misa, whose arms were loosely wrapped around the lean torso of one of the quarterbacks of the KLD football team; Sai, whose every inch of his undeniably sexy body covered by the thin arms, legs, and heads of three other girls: a bleach-blonde with purple streaks from the Visual Arts department who was clearly fond of raccoon-eyed makeup looks and a brunette and redhead from the ballet department that were secretly dubbed as The Toothpicks; and basically everybody else from the cheerleading squad and the football team all sleeping on each other in random groups.

From the slumbering population, Ino also spotted one person who was hogging one sofa at the far back all to himself, secluded from everybody else. His dark spiky hair gathered into a high pony, artfully faded Diesel jeans, band tee, and a tall Olympic runner-like wiry build were unmistakable.

Shikamaru. Of course. Only Shikamaru would wear a band tee to a cocktail bash.

Ino crept quietly past the sleeping guests, taking care not to stab anyone’s limbs with her deadly four-inch stilettos. When she was only about a foot away from him, she stopped, unsure what to do next. She didn’t even know why she had ventured this close to him. The only close encounter to him other than that moment was the assembly in the morning, which was mostly staged to show Sakura that she wasn’t scared of seducing a Shinobi boy either. But this was on instinct. She wasn’t in control of her actions, or at least, she didn’t feel like she was. It was as if her legs just automatically moved on their own, like she was a little Barbie doll that walked mechanically whenever the owner cranked up the spring on her back.

She glanced back at the only active couple in the tent. Whoops. She spoke too soon. They had fallen asleep, their knotted cherry stems in empty cocktail glasses sitting side by side on the coffee table. They looked like two blond angel siblings rather than a couple because of their too-similar physical traits--two angels who spent their so-fucking-fantastic angel lives reclining on clouds and getting airbrushed tans from the sun. Their fair golden heads, one warm golden blond and the other pale silvery blonde, were pressed together, reminding Ino of the two gold and silver editions of Tiffany heart-link bracelets in their window display, placed in a way that the gold and silver links would brush lazily against each other.

With her sensitive nose, she picked up a faint trace of alcohol in his breath, but it wasn’t that bad as of the quarterback that Misa was snuggling, who smelled like they had taken a bath in whiskey.

When she was about to sit down on the sheepskin rug next to the couch he was sleeping on, a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. She jumped, surprised.

“Shikamaru?” His grip was too tight for her to wriggle through. “Do you mind letting-”

He suddenly gave a sharp tug, and Ino, who was caught off guard, stumbled, and fell on top of him, her face awkwardly buried inside his chest and her legs sticking comically in the air.

She closed her eyes, silently thanking God that none of the horny football boys were awake to see her robin’s-egg blue Rosa Cha draped bandeau bikini that she had worn underneath her dress in full view.

His eyes were still closed.

“Shikamaru-?” Ino lifted her face from his chest. She suddenly had an unfamiliar sensation around her face, and she didn’t know what it was until she gently laid the pads of her fingertips on her face with her free hand.

She was blushing--which was weird. Ino never blushed. Even if half a dozen boys from the KLD lacrosse team would be standing in front of her fully naked, she wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. And the weirdest thing about this was that Ino had felt far more than a male body pressing against hers, but she hadn’t blushed then. But for some reason, her face burned up like the candles on the coffee table the moment her fully clothed body came into contact with his equally non-naked body.

She wasn’t even sure of Shikamaru had abs. She had never seen him shirtless, partly because he was too lazy to join any KLD sports teams except for the basketball team, in which he was the game strategist. Not to say that he was built similarly as Sasuke Uchiha or Neji Hyuuga’s rock-hard muscles, but from what Ino could see, his legs and arms looked toned enough.

Lowering her hand from her burning face, she tried to pry the slim fingers off her wrist as gently as possible, and surprisingly succeeded. She examined her wrist. It remained white with red gaps in the area where his fingers formerly were, but a moment later, it disappeared.

But right when she was about to climb off of Shikamaru, his eyes lazily fluttered open, and Ino saw them grow wider with every passing second as he confusedly stared at Ino.

“Do you mind telling me how we got into this position?” He finally asked, his cynical eyes seeming to carefully calculate her every move.

To her embarrassment, her cheeks felt hot again. She closed her eyes and regained composure. Then she lifted her nose in the air priggishly. “I actually don’t owe you an explanation, seeing how it’s kinda your fault.”

“And how is that?” He raised an eyebrow in speculation. “And besides, don’t you usually make excuses for everything? Of course, it can’t be Ino Yamanaka’s fault.”

“You grabbed me in your sleep,” Ino countered, slightly ticked off at his painful sarcasm that flicked her skin raw like a whip. She couldn’t help but feel a little triumph at his expression of surprise. But as everything clunked into place, her once triumphant smile fell into a frown. Shit. She’d just ended up giving him the story that she had originally refused to give out of dignity.

His surprised expression smoothed back into blankness in about what it seemed like a nanosecond. “I think you’ve just contradicted yourself,” Shikamaru said amusedly. He had seen Ino’s beautiful patrician features settle into mortification as she realized her mistake.

When realization that she was still lying on top of him had dawned on her , Ino sprang away, still red-cheeked,.

“It’s your annoying need to show explicit sarcasm for everything,” Ino spat out, still embarrassed.

He mockingly feigned shock. “Wow. I never knew girls like you would know such hard words like explicit.”

Ino’s ice blue eyes darkened and narrowed into navy slits. Shikamaru was mildly impressed by how he wasn’t shivering in fear. Brrrr. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugged and leaned back into the couch. “It’s just that it’s surprising to see when girls like you would be that literate to know sixth grade words.”

“Girls like me?” She couldn’t grind out “sixth grade words”. It was obvious that this boy wanted a death wish anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied in that still irritatingly calm voice, as if he didn’t know or care whether he had prodded his way into Ino’s danger zone. “Girls who only care about material things, gets into university with Daddy’s connections, get the boot for getting caught with E, and end up living off their parents’ wealth. And I think...” He looked Ino up and down from her v-neck Valentino empire-waist dress; the raven-black raw silk sash pinned with a spray of glittering diamonds and milk-white pearls molded into a dainty outline of a rose in black enamel, tied into a crisp knot, and cinching at her tiny waist; her shiny black patent leather Gucci Hysteria Clutch; and her perfectly French-manicured toenails peeking out from ruby red satin open-toed Christian Louboutins. She went on a full-on shopping spree at Saks with her Gold Visa that her mother refilled every month. And the total was too ridiculous to recall.

He gaze went back onto her face, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “...You’re definitely that type of girl.”

She stuck out her chin imperiously. “Well, you thought wrong.”

He laughed sort of sarcastically. “Right. You’re a material girl who knows a few words here and there.”

Ino seethed. He was the type of person who would end up like one of her father’s slightly snobby millionaire friends who had former swimsuit model trophy wives dangling off of their crisply pressed Hugo Boss and Armani suited arms. The fondly and secretly given titles for them were “His Royal Highnesses the Harvard Business School Assholes”. And rightly so.

“Want a few more words? Abhorrence. Stolid. Insolent. And guess what? Those are the exact words to describe you.” Fortunately, Sakura forced Ino to study the SAT word list that the English teacher handed out last year until she knew it backwards and forwards, saying that “it was for her own good”. Ino had picked up more than a few words or two, but she had never known that she would actually apply it to reality.

And in a quite deliciously triumphant way, too.

“Huh,” the boy snorted. “I guess you have been studying the SAT word list instead of going out to clubs every night. What a shock.”

Ino pointedly ignored it, deciding that the banter would go nowhere at this point. “What’s up with you, Mr. PMS-ing Genius? You’re rather touchy today, aren’t you?”

He was about to open his mouth to retort, but he closed it and sighed. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m just having a bad night.”

“You’re having a bad night? Hell, I think everyone is, but they’re just not explicitly showing it like you are,” Ino replied, purposely emphasizing the “explicitly” as a humorous reference to his insult before. She moved to sit next to Shikamaru on the chair. If he was uncomfortable with her so near him, he didn’t show it.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? How are you having a bad night? Aren’t you Miss I-have-a-perfect-life-and-nothing-bothers-me?”

“Perfect life?” She echoed incredulously. The next thing that came out of her mouth was unexpected, even to her. “Then listen to this: what do you call a girl that just found out that her father was screwing around with some woman and probably has been since forever, and doesn’t know what to do about her poor oblivious mother, who would eventually find out?”

He was silent for a while. “Is it true?” He asked quietly.

Ino closed her ice blue eyes in shame and embarrassment at her unnecessary blurt-out. “Fuck. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”

Ino looked around again to make sure no one was stirring and eavesdropping. Whatever. The softly playing jazz music on the Bose speakers in the tent probably masked their voices anyway, and the sitting area they were at was at the far back and at least a few metres away from everyone else.

“It’s okay,” she heard him mutter. “I won’t tell. Because I can probably relate.”

The last five words were uttered in a voice so tiny that Ino wasn’t sure he had said them.

“What?” Ino’s eyes snapped open, zeroing in on Shikamaru’s face, which now held an expression that was almost identical to hers just a while ago.

“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly.

“What do you mean, you can “relate”?” Ino ignored his denial. “Did you ever...I mean, have you...I mean-” This was getting ridiculous. Now she was rambling. And stuttering. Like she shared the same name with a certain Hyuuga heiress. “-your parents. Are they-?”

“I never suggested anything,” Shikamaru cut in stiffly.

“Cut the bullshit already,” Ino said impatiently before lowering her voice into softer tones. “Come on. I just told you my darkest secret. I haven’t even told any of my friends, and they were right upstairs when I caught my dad with--you know. Why can’t you just finish what you’ve just started telling me?”

“Why don’t you make an educated guess with the hints I’m going to give you?” Ino sniffed; he was throwing the “brain-dead material girl” thing back at her again. “Here’s the first one: the Nara clan is about to get chaos with messed up inheritance rights and paperwork. And two: my mom and dad are in separate bedrooms.”

“Oh.” Was her intelligent reply.

“Yeah,” he concluded flatly.

A beat of silence passed. Ino, bored with the awkward atmosphere, tried to lighten up the mood.

“So who was the idiot in your case?”

“...What?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Which parent bought him or herself a one-way ticket to Adulteryville?”

“Oh. Shikaku Nara, the man who likes to call himself my father,” Shikamaru answered dryly. He leaned back into the sofa’s soft cushiony back, closing his eyes.

Ino nodded sympathetically. “Fathers are assholes.” She paused and frowned. “Even if they do buy me pretty things and allow me to max out their credit cards.” Another humorous reference to his “material girl” insult.

He merely snorted in response, and Ino smiled--it meant that he was lightening up. Sort of.

Shikamaru opened his eyes and let his gaze wander over her. She noticed that his eyes changed colour. When he was pissed (like when she woke him up at the assembly by stabbing her heel viciously into his shin) his eyes were the colour of the darkest mocha. But right now, they were the colour of medium-hued gold--a shade darker than the described topaz colour of Edward Cullen’s eyes, the infamous character in the vampire romance saga Twilight. Ino had a passion for reading the Twilight series, but now it was a closeted one. Her friends didn’t seem to like it much, so Ino kept her mouth shut about them.

Sakura did share the same passion for Twilight at one point, and worshipped anything that had Robert Pattinson’s face plastered on it. She even met him once personally at a London premiere of some new British movie, but when Ino grilled her for the details, Sakura had just shrugged nonchalantly and said “he doesn’t look that much of a hottie up close”, and went back to her historical fiction books, filled with Mary Queen of Scots, Queen Elizabeth I, and Marie Antoinette.

Hinata didn’t really think much about the books, much less the movie when they all went as a group to see it when it came out. She just commented on how much makeup Robert Pattinson must’ve used to look like Edward in the movie, shattering Ino’s hopes and dreams completely.

Tenten would only scoff at her for reading about vampires, being the ever-so-critical, overly cynical reader she was. If it wasn’t a world-renowned literary classic that was at least a hundred years old, Tenten wouldn’t touch the book. She was more of a Jane Eyre than a Bella Swan.

Ino could feel herself blushing again and her once steady heartbeats became erratic. “You know,” he began, still surveying her with half-lidded eyes. “You really remind me of someone.”

“Who? Paris Hilton? I get that a lot. But you must agree that I’m way sexier and smarter, of course,” was the flirty reply she would have used if it were some other guy. However, this was Shikamaru. But her throat went cottony dry in anticipation, and Ino felt as if she lost all ability to speak. Was this the girl he was speaking of at the assembly earlier that day? Mystery Troublesome Girl?

He continued when he realized that Ino wasn’t going to ask who it was. “There’s this girl...she’s an old family friend. We knew each other since the cradle. Apparently, our parents were considering making an arranged marriage-”

“That old-fashioned, huh?” Ino couldn’t hide the contempt in her voice. She wanted so badly to ask him what that girl’s name was, but she didn’t want to seem too pushy.

“Yeah,” Shikamaru chuckled. “But luckily, they decided not to. I wouldn’t be able to live a day with her as my wife and down my throat all the time. She’d be so troublesome because she’s even snappier than you are.”

“More than you too?” Ino teased, secretly and strangely pleased that Shikamaru had said he wouldn’t want this girl as his wife. Which meant he didn’t like her in that way.

“I’m not snappy; I’m just sarcastic 24/7. If you want snappy, she is, and so are you. Both of you just have to have the last say in everything. And you always have something to say something negative about everything.”

“I do not,” Ino argued in a fake-appalled voice. But inside, she was thrilled. They were finally bonding. Although it was kinda weird how it went the topic went from the self-pity wallowing topic of my-father-is-an-asshole to...well, this.

Shikamaru raised “the eyebrow” at her again skeptically. “Okay, fine. I am snappy.” Ino admitted, glaring back at Shikamaru’s smug look. “But everything I say is true. And I always win arguments.”

“Who lied to you?” Shikamaru shot back, but gave her a small smile to show that it was good-natured.

Ino giggled. This reminded her of a romance book she once read, in which the two main characters started out bickering constantly and later on fell in love with each other.

They grinned at each other. It was as if the heavy subject of dysfunctional families had never been brought up.

Her Sidekick bleeped twice--a signal that she had just received a new text message. Ino figured it was probably one of her besties or Kiba, demanding another make-out session.

She had to get back to the party. Even if she did want to blow it off.

She rose up from the sofa regretfully. “I’m really sorry, but I-”

“-Have to get back to your party?” Shikamaru finished for her, the corners of his lips twitching. Even if he did see her in a new light, Ino was still Ino.

“Yeah,” she admitted sheepishly. “So...” Ino began kind of awkwardly, her index finger tracing the bumpy seams of her clutch. She never had an uncomfortable conversation with a guy before seventh grade, and unpleasant memories from her awkward starting years were brought up again in her mind. “Thanks. You know, for everything. I feel half as less shitty than before.”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

She didn’t know what it was, if it was a breakdown or that there was some kind of irresistible desire that was brewing into a boil the whole time they were together, but she found herself doing something that she would have never imagined doing before.

Ino leaned down, and planted a quick but meaningful kiss on his cheek.

Shikamaru positively froze. And to her immense satisfaction, his breathing hitched.

Ino’s lips curved into a compensated smile as her shining jubilant eyes ravenously took in his stunned expression before spinning on her heel gracefully and walking away from the dumbfounded genius who was caught off guard for the first time.

Unbeknownst to her, the Nara genius was staring at her intently as she had breezed out of the tent, his fingers gingerly and almost thoughtfully grazing the area that her lips formerly were.

Saltwater Pools

Konoha Country Club Grounds

Monday September 8th

11:00 p.m.

Sakura did not feel triumph. In fact, her head was heavy with defeat--and booze. There were only three reasons for her crestfallen mood:

1. The “sing-a-song-about-a-girl-getting-played-by-her-player-boyfriend-so-Yuina-could-see-that-Sasuke-is-no-good-for-her” plan wasn’t a success. Halfway through the song, she saw that Yuina still didn’t comprehend the meaning behind it, and just smiled in awe of Sakura’s exceptional singing skills along with the rest of the crowd.

2. Sasuke was there the whole time. His face was emotionless. He scrutinized her with a stare so intense that it seemed like he was willing the screen behind her to fall on her head and hopefully kill her. Sakura would’ve preferred him glaring at her than staring at her in a way that she could never interpret.

3. THE SASUKE-YUINA COUPLE WAS STILL TOGETHER. Even after all her efforts.

Grrrrr.

Azami once told her that everyone had a special something that could lift their down-in-the-dumps mood--or at least temporarily. Azami confessed that hers was splurging in every upscale store at the Elysian. Sakura had originally assumed that hers was an ylang ylang massage with four hands at the Arabesque Spa or solving crossword puzzles, the usual activities that calmed her frazzled nerves. Sure, they were soothing enough, but it wasn’t special. Sakura soon discovered that her “special mood-lifter” wasn’t any of the ones above, but swimming.

Sakura felt oddly at ease whenever she glided like a drifting cloud through calm currents of the clear azure water. There has never been a time where she has been that calm and relaxed other than the time she went swimming. Perhaps it was the way the smooth ripples caught the dazzling sunlight in glittering winks, the invigorating way the cool fluid felt against her skin and combing through her hair, or the way everything was so surreal but enchanting under the depths.

Or maybe it was the fact that as long as she was capable of swimming, Sakura was in control of herself in the water, and no one else--while on the other hand, in reality, even a highly successful person could fall at one point, despite their extraordinary talents. It was just the unfair way life worked. A CEO of a thriving company could feel secure about his or her seemingly bright future, filled with promotions and the immeasurable power and almost unlimited money that came with the high position, but then the next day, poof! The company goes bankrupt. Or the money was invested in the wrong place. Everything that appeared in life could be turned upside-down and changed--just like that. And because of that, a person could fall in life, or suddenly succeed. There were only two ways.

But swimming was different. The chances of drowning or sinking were slim if the person was an accomplished swimmer. And Sakura was. She knew that if she just continued swimming, there was no way she would fall.

It was too bad that she couldn’t say the same about life.

Life was ruled by butt-biting fate and unfair karma, and every aspect of Sakura’s life was ruled by her power-hungry parents. But no one else but Sakura could control her movements in the water. That was what she liked most. She was herself while she was swimming.

Not Sakura Haruno, sole heiress to the Haruno Corps. Not socialite Sakura Haruno, material girl, the KLD queen bee, and fashion goddess. Not Miss Perfect Sakura Haruno, star actress, honor roll student, and student body co-president. She was simply Sakura.

She was alone when she walked into the changeroom--just the way she liked it. A row of Asian-esque stalls constructed of bamboo on the right and Seashell-white marble floors stretched out before her, and her nose caught a whiff of fragrant French rosewater freshly spritzed into the cool air. Venetian full-size mirrors hung against painted mint-coloured walls, and a bamboo chair along with a matching side table were placed in the far left corner. The frosted glassed bay window stationed in the back wall's middle were softened by tulle ivory curtains embroidered with pale green stitchings forming into quaint ivy vines.

Callous about how her elegant French-twisted hair would be positively ruined by the careless way she pulled her BCBG dress over her head, Sakura wriggled out of her seafoam-green silk-and-lace bra and thong, and into her Marc Jacobs black lace-trimmed polka-dotted pink bikini that she had entrusted to coat check previously. She hung her dress carefully on one of the gold hooks that lined one wall of the cabana, and kicked off the Michael Kors heels that Ino had agreed to “graciously” lend her.

She scuffed her bare YSL candy-apple red toenail-ed feet down the marble-tiled deck, throwing a fresh dark viridian Egyptian-cotton towel (supplied by the Konoha Country Club) on one of the deck chairs.

In one graceful dive, she leaped into the saltwater pool, slowly savoring the exhilarating rush of heated water that raced from her fingers, which touched the water first, then to her outstretched arms, her bowed head, her torso, and finally reaching her long legs. Sakura sighed, releasing tiny bubbles from her mouth. She loved the calming way the water encased her body like a reassuring warm blanket and soothed her closed tired eyes.

But little did she know that the person who had leaped in after she had resurfaced would soon break the peace.

Sakura peered through the wet strands of her rose-blonde hair that had cascaded into her face. She could make out a dark tousled haired figure with roughly six feet of toned, gorgeous physique with rock-hard muscle. With both hands, she swept the hair that had obscured her view away from her face, and what she saw made her heart sink.

“You’re showing off even when people aren’t looking?” Sasuke casually flexed his arms. He had obviously seen her dive. “You really are an attention whore, Haruno.”

“What are you doing here?” Sakura said none too nicely, planting both hands on her bare hips.

Sasuke raised a cocky eyebrow. “Same reason as you. What else would I be doing at a pool besides swimming?”

“Having sex?” Sakura shot back. She tried to ignore his intense gaze, which traveled from her wet hair, her milk-white smooth swan-like neck and shoulders, her cleavage, and down to her flat, toned stomach.

He pretended to think it over. “Good idea,” he smirked, edging closer to her.

Sakura reflexively took a step back. “Okay, if you’re getting revenge for that stunt I pulled with the karaoke thing-”

“I broke up with her,” Sasuke interrupted.

-What?!

“Huh?” Sakura said intelligently.

“I broke up with her,” he repeated slowly, as if she were mentally retarded. “Your little trick inspired me.”

Sakura continued gaping.

“But honestly, Kelly Clarkson? You could’ve done better than that,” Sasuke continued. “All my exes? They sent the same song too many times. It’s boring now.”

“Why?” Sakura managed to croak out.

“She was clingy and irritating,” Sakura simply replied.

“What’d she say?” Sakura demanded.

“I suggest you ask her,” Sasuke responded in an unfeeling voice. “Too many people asked me this already, and I’m tired of answering the same question.”

There was another heavy silence. They stared into each other’s eyes, duskly onyx into bright emerald.

“So you aren’t mad about the whole karaoke thing?” Sakura finally asked in a voice too tiny for her liking.

He rolled his eyes at Sakura’s ongoing quest to please everyone. “No. Why would I be?”

She shrugged her bare shoulders and pushed a damp lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. Most guys would be pissed.”

“But I’m not like most guys, aren’t I?” He flashed a crooked smile. Sakura tried to stop herself from blushing.

What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she pushing away all her past’s emotions, like she had trained herself to do? She laid a tentative hand on her cheek. Heat radiated from her skin.

Shit. She was blushing.

Damn alcohol for making her hormonal.

Doesn’t Sasuke know that his bare chest and his irresistible smirk is a weapon of mass destruction? Sakura shrieked inside her mind.

Unfortunately, he apparently did.

“What’s wrong, Sa-ku-ra?” Sasuke teased in a husky ’s eyes widened in surprise. Sasuke never called her by her first name. And when he did--shivers of pleasure crawled down her spine and her heart beat faster.

“Are you drunk?” Sakura noticed that his breath was tinged with the smell of vodka.

“Maybe,” Sasuke smirked again. “Is it an excuse good enough to get near you?”

“Back off, Uchiha.” Sakura grimaced at her voice, which had a slight tremble. Sakura tore her gaze away from his hypnotic stare. She focused her eyes on the swirling dark water. He had to be drunk. It was the only reason why he would be pulling a Casanova on her.

“Make me,” Sasuke whispered sensually, and in one swift movement, wrapped a strong arm around her waist and anchored her closer until his chiseled chest pressed intimately against hers and her head was nuzzling his neck.

“Sasuke, what-”

She had no time to finish her protest because a pair of warm soft lips crashed onto hers.

For the first time, Sakura couldn’t think. There was a roaring inside her brain the second Sasuke pressed his lips against hers. She didn’t know what to do next. It was as if someone had disconnected all the nerves from her brain so she couldn’t move a muscle.

But he had made his decision.

Sakura felt him smirk against her lips before he pulled away from her face.

“Got you, Haruno,” Sasuke announced softly, his finger lazily pointing right. His lips had curved slightly upwards into that infamous crooked smile again.

She followed his finger’s direction. Neji was perched on one of the recliners on the deck, holding a video camera focused on them. When he noticed Sakura glaring at him, he had calmly said, “You’re a great actress, Haruno. This will be great footage for the film project Iruka-sensei assigned.”

Sakura slowly turned her head, her enraged eyes practically shooting laser beams. She didn’t utter a word. The silent loathing stare was enough to get her message to Sasuke.

“Consider it revenge,” Sasuke responded, seemingly unruffled by her shooting daggers at him. “For all the stunts you pulled today--this morning’s assembly and the karaoke thing.”

“This was staged? Just for revenge?” Sakura forced out, taking deep yoga breaths to control her temper.

“Of course it was,” Sasuke snorted. “What--you thought it was real?”

“I-You really are an asshole, you know that?”

Sasuke didn’t reply. He just started staring at her condescendingly and mockingly, looking smug at his triumph.

“Ugh!” Sakura spat, and dunked him down forcefully in the water before stomping away the best she could in water. She climbed up the tiled steps and stormed away, dripping wet.

Sasuke emerged from the water and continued leering after her, his eyes gleaming, entertained at the sight of her infuriated sopping wet form. As if things couldn’t get any more comical, he noticed that her bikini had snagged into her butt--again.

Neji walked down to the pool’s edge. “Oi, Uchiha. Are we actually going to put it in the movie? Haruno looked pretty upset.”

He hesitated, weighing the pros and cons mentally. “Yeah,” Sasuke confirmed, apparently ignoring Neji’s last comment. “Put it in the project.”

“Haruno looked upset,” Neji repeated. “Don’t you feel guilty that you did this to her? Uchiha, you have to remember that what goes around comes around-”

“Don’t start preaching about your karma crap, Hyuuga,” Sasuke cut in brusquely. “And besides, this was all merely returning Haruno’s trick. She pulled one, and she repaid it with mine.

“And besides...” He paused, smirking again. “Everything was worth it to see her angry.”

Because Haruno looks almost cute when she’s mad.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, people. The stupid document manager didn't let me upload new documents for like weeks -.-

42 pages of fat Sasusaku and Shikaino bonding/flirting along with a few flashbacks, another wedgie, and shirtless Sasuke (which I drool like a mindless fangirl every time I imagine it). You Sasusaku and Shikaino-loving guys out there better be happy.

Sasuke finally admits that Sakura had indeed changed, and Shikamaru sees Ino in a new light. Do you know what that means? FUTURE FLUFF! So to answer all your “When will Sasusaku/Shikaino coupling start?” questions, this is where it begins. :] FINALLY.

(And anyone who guesses the identity of Mystery Troublesome Girl correctly gets full brownie points :])

Thank you for ALL of your reviews, and even if I don’t reply to them, you guys should still know that I love you ALL for reviewing and I appreciate EVERY SINGLE ONE. Keep on reviewing. You guys are my muse :) (And special thanks to sunshineemomix and Cursed Break for your extra-long and informative reviews :))

(And to KittyCat: Yes, Jimmy Choos sure are something, aren’t they? :D)

And which reminds me. Thanks to all the multiple A’s that had sent in their supposed-to-be A-esque threatening but nonetheless entertaining notes. They really amused me while I was on my writer’s block :p

[And to both A’s: read author’s note in chapter 4. You’ll see my full credit for Sara Shephard with her Pretty Little Liars series that inspired me hugely for this story. I couldn’t credit her with her idea for the A notes, obviously because I haven’t used the idea yet at that time. So thanks for reminding me. Mwah! -A (right back atcha!)]

With much love,

xoxo Chikako-chan

(P.S. I forgot to mention: a lot of people have been asking me questions about FM, and since some of them are anonymous, I can’t answer them privately.

SO...here’s a quick Q&A.

Q&A With Queen World Dominator Chikako-chan.

Q. 1: How many chapters is this going to be?

A: I’m going to divide this fic into two parts, Flawless Masks (present part), and Façade. And each part will probably have around 10-20 chapters. And if I still haven’t finished with the story by then, there will be a sequel :]

Q. 2: Is Itachi going to be in it? Will he start dating Sakura to further complicate things up?

A: You bet! There is just no fic without Itachi-chan. But he’s engaged to Tenten’s evil stepsister Tamako, remember? But there’s no saying that he’s going to be exclusive...

Q. 3: When will A finally make his/her move on the next girl?

A: Really soon. Trust me.

Q. 4: Will makeover-ed Lee resist his temptation to wear spandex?

A: Lee can’t stay that way forever...He’s LEE. But no promises.

Q. 5: Will the rich go on continuing being rich?

A: Like I said: life is ruled by butt-biting fate and unfair karma. :]