Everything Beautiful in the World
This story is based off a book called Everything Beautiful in the World, by Lisa Levchuk. Most of the events happening in this story are from her book. There are a few differences. Onward and upward!
A ball whizzes pass my face, missing my cheek by less then an inch. I screech as it slams into the heavy curtain behind me, making a loud clunking sound. Across the volleyball net, Naruto's stifling his chuckles; there's a mischievous smile on his lips. I glare at him, my green eyes looking like emerald-colored fire—at least, that's what they tell me, I've never seen myself when I'm angry. The stomp of angry feet echoes throughout the gym. Both teams clear a space from me to Naruto; they don't want to be caught in the path of my fists.
While I may be the least sporty girl you'd ever meet, ever, I could throw a punch to knock your teeth out. Some might say I have superhuman strength, and, of course, when I say "some" I mean Naruto and Sai, my two victims of choice. Naruto's back smashes into the padding of the gym's walls; the sound brings a sweet smile to my face. "Naruto," I say with a sweetness that warred with my deathly expression. He hates it when I'm sweet. Sweet means mad.
Naruto is starting to tremble the closer I get. It looks like he's trying to climb the plain of the wall. "Ye—yes, Saku…Sakura-chan?" he stutters.
My fingers curl around the flesh of my palm. A grin lifts my cheeks. "Why did you do that?"
"I—I—I," Naruto stammers. His blue eyes are wide. The fear that trickled through his expression is now overpowering his face. He cranes is neck to see over the mass of witnesses. "Sasuke-teme, Sasuke-teme!" the blonde calls over the teams, giving up on any mercy from me. My fists tighten.
Here's the thing about Sasuke-sensei: all of the girls in school are gaga over him. He's twenty-four, just six years older than most of us and fresh out of collage. We're all ready to ask "how high" the second he orders us to jump. Of course, he's the gym teacher, we'd have to anyway; it just helps that he's drop-dead gorgeous with his charming chicken-ass-styled navy-colored hair and depthless black eyes that you could get lost in and not mind. Plus, once you get past the fact that he refuses to talk more than three or four words, he's a really good guy. He makes us all call him by his first name because his brother's also a teacher here and he deals with Naruto's name-calling. The way I see it, the sensei could: A) have Naruto expelled; or B) beat him to a pulp just like I could, with all those defined muscles he has… The fact that he doesn't just adds to his nice-person persona. Or maybe its just respect for their parents' friendship. It's known to the whole world that the Uchihas and the Uzumakis were best friends. Before the Uchihas ended up six feet under. It might also be the fact that he and Naruto are also best friends.
I've seen Sasuke-sensei outside of school a few times. I've seen him at Naruto's place when he comes over to hang out with him and I've seen him at HungryWorld with his redheaded wife that had the funny uneven haircut. And this is a fact I have to say: Sasuke-sensei looks just as sexy in his white calf-length shorts as he does in his black and white ADIDAS pants.
Sasuke-sensei's fancy black ADIDAS basketball shoes announce his arrival. His depthless onyx eyes hold all the amusement his face doesn't. His job as a teacher is to stop anything that might cause his students harm, physical or emotional. The thing is, aside from his being a teacher he is a male; and just like every other male in the universe, he finds the idea of a small pink-haired girl that can hardly dribble a ball beating up a blonde guy that is more than two times her size largely amusing.
He's watching me as I war with my two choices. Do I be a good girl and forgive Naruto because of the teacher's presence? Do I be a bad girl and beat the living hells out of Naruto, despite the teacher's presence? My fists loosen and Naruto sighs in relief. I choose choice number three: Beat the living daylights out of him after school. I pull my pink-colored out of its ponytail, closing my eyes in defeat, as I answer the obvious question in Sasuke-sensei's eyes. "Nothing's wrong. Naruto is just being…Naruto-ish." I know he, of all people, would understand. He's dealt with Naruto for three years longer than I have. It comes to my attention that while we both have the same best friend, I hadn't met him until the beginning of the school year.
As I'm tightening my hair, Sasuke-sensei nods, saying, "Aa." Instead of punishing my for the beat-down I almost gave Naruto, he glares at the blonde, siding with me.
Then the bell rings and we all know we're going to be late for our next class if we don't leave now.
Tomorrow is Sasuke-sensei's birthday. His gym class has been moved from gym to health. It is very fun to watch my perfect, stoical, emotionless teacher blush and stutter over the more detailed parts of human autonomy. Naruto thinks he's too innocent for some parts of being a gym/health teacher. I agree, but it's a lot of fun to watch Sasuke-sensei's pale face blush. The girls in his classes are going head-over-heels trying to find out what Sasuke-sensei wants. Even Naruto's been trying to find out what his friend wants. He hasn't had very much luck, even though he's got a talent for making Sasuke-sensei spill as many guts as an Uchiha could. We're all running out of time.
"Sasuke-sensei," my friend, Ino, is asking, her voice the most seductive she can make it; it seems to have no effect on the sensei, "what do you want for you birthday?"
I stop tapping my Bank of Japan pen on the desk. I'm watching Sasuke-sensei as intently as every other girl in class. I really want to know what he wants. I am probably the only girl in the whole school who really wants to know, who really wants to give him a happy birthday, the only one who isn't hung up about the fact that if I get him a present he might "love" me; I really want to know. I want to give him a good birthday because—and not may people now this other than the Uchiha brothers, the Uzumakis, and, because of Naruto, me—his parents died on his birthday. Naruto tells me he's the most distracted on his birthday, the most annoyed, and the crabbiest. I want him to be at least semi-happy on his birthday; that's what they're celebrated.
Sasuke-sensei rolls his eyes, finally tired of being asked all the time. "A hickey," he answers. And I swear on my dead mother's grave, may she rest in peace, that he's looking at me when he says this.
"You are so funny!" Ino laughs, thinking he's poking fun at her. But I know better. Sasuke-sensei never jokes.
I'm walking pass Sasuke-sensei's office on my way to lunch when I feel a strong arm pull me aside. A shout builds in my throat and my fists clench, ready to throw a punch. "Shush," says a voice. I know that voice; I would answer to it even in my sleep. Suddenly, we're in his office, the bright florescent lights making his beautifully pale skin glow. I haven't had his class yet, so I don't know what he's wearing. I see his navy colored t-shirt with his clan's symbol, the red and white uchiwa fan, on the sleeve. That's all I have time to see, because rapidly, his lips are on mine, urgent and needy.
I've never had a serious boyfriend, not one that I could kiss with the intensity that Sasuke-sensei is kissing me with now, but I know that if I had one, he'd never be able to kiss me like Sasuke-sensei is. He would never trap me against a wall and ravage every corner of my mouth like Sasuke-sensei is. He would never have as soft hair as Sasuke-sensei does; I realize the texture of his hair makes the force of our kiss that much better.
Sasuke-sensei's lips are soft as they move against mine; but, even though they're soft as feathers, I can still feel my own lips bruising and puffing. His right hand is hard on my hip, urgent; the other is on the wall, keeping the weight of his body off mine. His tongue, warm and welcome, traces the outline of my aching lips. I open my mouth and our tongues dance. His tongue is so soft, so warm, and so wonderful.
I hate that we have to breathe. Sasuke-sensei's forehead is warm on mine. His eyes are darker than usual. He's wearing an expression I can't decipher; it's beautiful. He ignores his need for air and his saliva makes my shoulder warm. I hold back a moan—he's so skilled with his mouth. I hold on to his back to keep from falling to the floor in a sick form of person goo. The muscle on his neck is pale and strong; I can't resist latching my mouth onto it, sucking till my heart's content.
Sasuke-sensei lifts his head, laughing a deep and beautiful chuckle. My legs jiggle a little as I join him, more because I don't know what to do next than finding any real hilarity in what just happened. "You got your birthday wish," I tell him, laughing still. I run my fingers through his silky chicken-ass navy hair. It's so soft, so wonderfully clean. My legs are still shaking and I'm still panting. Sasuke-sensei's hands are still where they were as we kissed. My body is flush against his.
Sasuke-sensei is still chuckling, deep and throaty. It makes my legs shake even more; my breath hitches. "I did," he says, pulling my closer. He's three inches taller than me, and he uses that to his advantage, lifting me up on the wall to his height. My feet dangle inches from the ground; it feels weird to not have them on the floor, but they weren't doing much good when they were. Well, he's not the only crafty one! I wrap them around his strong hips, using them to lift myself higher. He cranks his head up to see me. He is so beautiful…so heart-achingly stunning… What did he see in me? His wife is probably so much nicer than me; there must be some reason why he married her…
My cheeks are still red and my lips are still swollen as Sasuke-sensei sets me on his desk. He tries to kiss me again, but I turn my head. "Sasuke-sensei," I say. My voice is horse with embarrassment. "Your wife…"
Sasuke-sensei rolls his eyes; I know it, but I don't see it. I'm afraid that if I look into his eyes, if I swim his dark pools of molten onyx, I'll forget why I'm even objecting to his kiss, to his soft lips, to his wanting me of all people… Just thinking about it has me questioning my decision. He grabs my hand, turning it so my inner wrist is exposed to him. "Sakura," he murmurs into the skin of my wrist. His warm breath makes my wrist's skin rise with goosebumps. "Do you really care?"
I want to say no, I want him to kiss me again. But this is wrong. "Yes!" I shout at him instead.
He chuckles. "I don't love Karin," he tells me. "We married purely on business." Distantly, I remember that the Uchiha clan had a business, the Uchiha Corporation. I don't know what they sell though…I think most of them are lawyers or something. Sasuke-sensei is pressing kisses to my wrist, and that makes it so much harder to think. I think he knows that.
"But…but you aren't a lawyer, you're a teacher…" I argue, still refusing to look at him.
The amusement in his voice is gone when Sasuke-sensei says, "I'm a teacher until my uncle dies. Then Itachi takes over and I have to go to school again." He's impatient again. It melts me. His callused fingers are rough on my chin and he yanks it to him, giving me no choice but to look into his charcoal-colored eyes. I can't help myself—I throw myself to him. He smirks against my lips and I feel so utterly happy. And so utterly guilty.
It's been more than a week since the kiss. No one knows about it; our budding affair is strictly between us. I spend most of my time in his office, kissing him, talking to him, listening to him when he does talk… I'm late for most of my classes, just like I'm failing them. I'm sure my teacher would be more upset if my mother hadn't just died. But they can't be mad at me because it's been less than two month. Should I feel bad about it? Yeah, I probably should. Do I feel bad about it? No, not in the least bit. I'd be doubling over in tears if it had been Naruto or Ino or even the guy whose pharmacy I work in, Kakashi. I don't think I attached myself to my mother too much; I was always more independent than most kids my age. But that's just me. Sasuke-sensei is upset with me over not visiting my mom's grave, but I don't think he visits his mother's. Too painful.
I think of this now over a plate of food. My dad can't cook to save his life and, while I can, I'm too lazy to, so I'm at Naruto's place, having a good and proper meal with him; his dad, Namikaze Minato; his mother, Uzumaki Kushina; their friend and my next year teacher if I don't fail, Uchiha Itachi and his wife, Luisanna; and my teacher, Uchiha Sasuke, and his wife with the funny hairdo and squeaky voice, Karin.
Naruto would have his father's last name, but since he and Kushina aren't legally married—something about their parents not approving, which I don't see how it matters considering they have a son, for god's sake—he doesn't. I've noticed at least one about all the pairings: Itachi and Luisanna aren't newlyweds, though they sure do act like it; Minato and Kushina are like a fairytale couple, the kind you expect to live in a big gingerbread house with Dippin' Dots decorating their windowsills, although Kushina does have a temper; Sasuke-sensei and Karin are the kind of pair you'd expect to be in couple's counseling with the girl complaining and the boy wanting nothing more than to end the relationship.
Still, even through Sasuke-sensei's obvious dislike for his wife, I am jealous. Would he be like that if it were I sitting beside him as his wife? If we were married, which couple would we be more like—Minato and Kushina or Itachi and Luisanna? I'd like to think we'd be like his brother and his wife, because, frankly, Naruto's parents scare me a bit. Just the idea that we'd be some kind of fairytale freaks me out. I'd like to think we'd be more of a Jasper and Alice thing, expect without all the vampires. We'd be madly in love, like newlyweds, but we wouldn't go around flaunting it like jerks.
"How is your father?" Minato asks. It takes me a while of playing with my salt ramen. Kushina like it the best, so she cooked it a lot. It was delicious; I just wasn't in an eating mood, watching Karin go goo-goo eyed over Sasuke-sensei. "How is your father?" Minato's kind voice asks me again.
"Oh!" I say, shocked. It is me they're talking to. "Dad…Dad—he's fine. Still sad but he'll get over it, he's a strong man."
"How are you?" This time, it's Luisanna who asks. She has the slightest accent to go along with her funny name. I can't quite place where it's from. It sounds kind of Spanish, but I don't know.
I smile at her; she's a good person. I can see why Itachi loves her. "I'm fine!" I say with a cheer I don't feel. Because there's Karin, not paying attention to a word anyone says, trying to force-feed Sasuke-sensei with her chopsticks. Everyone notices my glare, directed at Karin. No one says anything. I don't think they suspect anything, I just think they think I don't like her; I'm known to glare death at anyone who rubs me the wrong way.
Sasuke-sensei's watching me now; his expression's unreadable. But I've learned to read his eyes—his beautiful, knee-melting eyes—and he's worrying over me. "Then why aren't you eating?" he questions. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was just his catch-you-in-a-lie nature, but I do know better and he is worrying.
"Yeah, Sakura-chan!" Naruto echoes. He has a habit of doing so. "Eat!" His next words are swallowed along with the ramen his mother made, but I make them out: "It's really good!"
I smile and look up at Naruto as I good-naturedly slurp up ramen from my chopsticks, then return my glare at Karin. Still, she doesn't notice, swooning like an idiot over my Sasuke-sensei. I find myself blurting out, "Wherever did you get your clothes, Karin?" The words come out sarcastically. It's rude not to add the suffix, but she seems used to it, with Sasuke-sensei as his wife. Karin is wearing short—and I short as in How is her underwear not showing short—pants and a purple zip-up shirt with the bottom part of the zipper broken and knee-high open-toed boots as if she is afraid to show too much skin. Hah! She looks like a hooker—the ones you find on the corner of a street with a cigarette in her mouth and a bun in the oven.
Sasuke-sensei—in his ever so secret way—is staring at me, eyes slightly widened. He's looking at me as if I've gone crazy. His eyes beg, Please don't tell me you're planning to dress like her. I give him a half-dead smirk and turn my attention to his wife. She looks happy—gleeful, joyous, merry—to have someone pay attention to her. We've all been ignoring her, nodding politely when she says something but otherwise keeping our distance. I get the feeling no one really likes her.
"Why—um…" she says, letting her sentence drop. We'd all been introduced before the meal, but she didn't bother remembering any names. She is trying to remember mine. Her red eyes glance up at my hair and she comes up with a "cleaver" nickname. "Why, um, Sakura blossom, I got my clothes designer." Her voice is scratchy and horrible, like nails on a chalkboard; I send Sasuke-sensei an apologetic glance, which goes unnoticed. "You'd never be able to afford them."
Of course she'd throw her wealth in my face. Excuse me for being middle-class. At least I know how to dress myself; at least I'm not half naked; at least I'm not force-feeding someone. I drown down my sake—thank god that Naruto's mom has nothing against underage drinking—and look back at her, unfazed.
Karin looks me up and down with a sorry glint in her eyes. I giggle softly, a sweet smile on my face. Naruto's hand is on my wrist in seconds, and that is all that keeps me from gouging her eyes out right then. "But," she says, still looking at my outfit. I'm wearing a red baby-doll top that makes my eyes pop like fireworks in the blackness of night, black skinny jeans that make my hair look even pinker, and a pair of high-tops to match.
I match Sasuke-sensei. He is wearing a silken red shirt—how did he manage to get silk on a teacher's salary…oh, right, lawyer family—and black pants, which are meant to look simple and not attract attention but the way his legs looks so muscular and wonderful in them doesn't help anything. The top few buttons of the red shirt are open because when they aren't he feels like someone's choking him.
"But, if you want," Karin continues, "I could help you find something for your budget. It must be hell in those jeans!" She's just like Sasuke-sensei described—she'll talk to anyone about anything so long as it makes her look good. She's as shallow as a kiddy pool. Does she even notice how scared everyone else looks? Even Itachi looks a bit fearful of my sweetness. Who'd told him about my tactics? Perhaps Minato or his loudmouth son. Either way, the oldest Uchiha and his wife look both scared and worried, in that order. "And maybe you can come over, and I'll show you my closet?"
That smile on her face makes me think that she isn't inviting me over to see her clothes, but rather to see the wealth that surrounds her and all the things she has that I don't. But I grin sweetly and nod anyway—a chance to see my Sasuke-sensei's house. Why not?
I'm in Sasuke-sensei's office. His microwave is heating up a Wawa sandwich and my Lays chips sit unopened on the desk before me. I'm not very hungry. I haven't been hungry lately, not since Mom died. The look Sasuke-sensei sends me while he watches the sandwich rotate in the microwave tells me he wants me to at least eat one chip.
I smile at him, tucking a strand of my pink hair that managed to escape my ponytail behind my ear. I pick up the bag, very slowly to tell him that I don't want to but that I'm doing it for him, and open it, swallowing a salty chip whole. I stare emptily at the gym equipment that rests in every single corner of his office and say, "Your wife…she's…" There is no way to describe Karin without shouting every cuss word aloud. "She's you wife?" I ask instead.
Sasuke-sensei smirks at me, beating the microwave by mere milliseconds before it starts beeping. His sandwich is on his plate and he's picking it open, searching for the extra tomatoes he'd ordered. It's so routine that it's comfortable, even with his beautiful dark eyes staring at me. "She is," he says sadly.
"My condolences then, Sasuke-sensei," I sigh, reaching over the table to his sandwich. Like I said, I'm not very hungry, but the chance to anger my gym teacher is too great. So I grab a slice of the tomatoes he'd been searching so desperately for and pop it into my mouth, smiling.
Sasuke-sensei glares at me through those amazing, wonderful eyes that could turn even the manliest man gay should Sasuke-sensei use their full force. His lips are on mine suddenly, and his tongue is searching for that tomato that I'm keeping under my tongue and away from him. But he's strong and he moves me tongue and snatches the tomato slice away from me with his own. He smirks at me, chewing on the stolen slice.
"You know, if you're going to keep taking them back like that," I say, referring to the sudden kiss, "I wouldn't mind stealing another."
He rolls his eyes. No matter how many times we hide away in his office, I'm always the one doing most of the talking. He prefers to answer me with grunts and smirks, eye-rolls and headshakes. It's his thing and it's beautiful. It gets really annoying sometimes, but hey—if that's the price I've got to pay to keep this beautiful and caring man, then so be it.
"Sasuke-sensei?" I ask, pushing away the Lays chips and staring at my fingers. He grunts his usual "hn…" to show me that he's listening. "Don't you ever think that she'll find out?"
I don't need to say the tramp's name for us to know that we're on the same page.
"The way I see it," he says in his slow drawl. Apparently I've been good enough to get the pleasure of his voice. "If she doesn't want to see it, it'll stay hidden. Kind of like Dracula."
My eyes widen and I smile. "You watched Dracula?" I ask, mildly surprised. I don't figure him to be the movie-watching type. Sasuke-sensei exhales through his nose and rolls his eyes. I huff, then return to the matter at hand. "But…what if she's on edge for that kind of thing? Don't you ever worry?"
Sasuke-sensei rolls his eyes again. "You're very annoying, you know that?"
I smile. "It's one of my charms," I laugh, then reach other to grab another tomato slice from the sandwich he hasn't even bitten. He likes to find all the tomatoes before he eats. The tomato is his favorite fruit…vegetable? Fungus?
He takes it out of my mouth the same way as before and we go back to our routine.
I work for this idiot named Kakashi at a local drug store with the ever-so serious Sai. Victim number two of choice. He should feel honored. But he doesn't. I don't think he has any feelings. He just stares emptily out the window and waits for the day to be over. If he's feeling particularly energized—by which I mean wanting to die—he'll tease me and call me names. But other than that he just stares out the window with his big inky eyes. He spends a lot of time in the sun, which confuses me, because he never seems to get tan. He's as white as a ghoul; and he has this funny brown-black hair that makes me think that if he'd ever take the time to wash it, it would be really pretty. But.
Kakashi has this really creepy wife—she's a doll to me, but not to him—who calls every night at nine o'clock to give him the same death threats or suicide promises over and over again. Her name is Tsunade and I think she just may have a drinking problem. Tsunade has long blonde hair that's always in two ponytails; her hair is really soft and thin, like that of a child's. She has hazel eyes—and I don't mean hazel as in they change with whatever clothes she wears, I mean hazel as in the lightest brown you've ever seen.
Kakashi has gray hair—which he says is "silver, people! Get it right! I'm not old"—and jet-black eyes. He's always covering the bottom half of his face—I'm not sure why, because I caught him off-guard and saw his face, which is, contrary to the belief around this city, very attractive—with either a facemask or this orange porn book he's carrying around everywhere. He's lazy. I mean get-me-the-remote-my-fingers-can't-reach-it lazy. And he's the biggest flirt that anyone anywhere will ever meet, ever. But other than that, he's a good guy.
I'm working now, counting the money. I steal from it sometimes, just because I don't think Kakashi'll ever notice. He never counts it and I think he's too lazy to do the math and find out that his employees are stealing from him. Even Sai does it every now and then, grabbing a bottle of aspirin or juice or something. I don't think Kakashi would mind giving it to us if we asked, but there's something about not asking that kind of makes us feel badass. Or, at least, that's what I think. Sai may just not want to use his voice.
The phone rings, and Kakashi yells from inside his office, "Suicide time!" which means that neither of us can pick up the phone. I roll my eyes at him, though he can't see it, and put a twenty in my pocket.
"Which means," I shout back, "that my shift is over. Peace!"
Kakashi scoffs loudly. "Oh, come on, Sakura-chan!" He hates it when my shift is over, because that means that he has to do work by himself. When my shift is over, Sai usually packs his bags and waits until his is too; he isn't really good with people. "I'll pay you overtime—just, please, don't leave me with—"
"Just go, Ugly, before he begs you to floss his toes," Sai tells me, emotionlessly and annoyed.
"—That," the silver-haired man begs.
I roll my eyes at him. "You know, I think I'll take Emo's advice here," I say as I open the glass door. "Because, really, Kakashi, you've got some freaky toes. What's up with the sixth one on your left foot? Seriously."
"It's a bunion! And if you stay, I promise to never, ever make you do that again!"
The bell above the door jingles as I exit, ignoring his last statement. He always says that and I always end up flossing those creepy toes. I should probably report that to some work-control people, but, hey, if I did that, I would probably have to stop taking my weekly raise. That's what usually keeps me fed. Not that I eat a lot.
But I don't have time to think about that for too long; Sasuke-sensei is waiting in the lot. His freshly painted black Ford Mustang sits in the back of parking lot. If it weren't for the bright blue headlights peaking through the navy night like the eyes of a black panther during hunt, I wouldn't know it was there. There it is, though, looking as if it would run me over without a hint of regret.
As I think that, its engine revs and it speeds forward, making me feel like a deer caught in headlights. An inch away from hitting me, the brakes screech the car to a stop and I can see Sasuke-sensei in the car, smirking his sexy smirk at me. His onyx eyes shine with a sick sense of humor.
I snort a laugh at myself and run to the passenger's side; the door slides open easily and I slip into the leather seats. "Goddamn, Sasuke-sensei, don't do that again!"
No matter how many times I say that, he keeps doing it because he knows we both enjoy the adrenaline that spikes through us when he does. Some may call us morbid freaks; we call each other special. But of course that is just us.
Sasuke-sensei gives a short laugh. It's beautiful and underused—breathtaking at worse and heart stopping at best. I rest in its velvety folds and bask in its glory. Once the short laugh is over, he speeds off the parking lot and through the main roads. He's never been a careful driver, but he can control the car just fine. The mustang's engine purrs; I can barely feel the speed as we whiz by the streets and into the dirt road that leads to a farmhouse we found not so long ago. It rests in the middle of the forest and is half-rundown, but it's ours. There's a shed there that we picnic in. We go in the middle of the night always, when his wife is asleep and my father's far too drunk to care.
We're setting up the picnic, which he has in his trunk, all set up. I will never know how he manages to get his wife to cook this. No matter how much I hate—despise, loathe, detest—Karin, I have to admit, she's a half-decent cook. I could do better. But.
The blanket is on the floor and I'm resting on his shoulder before I get up to get the floor. His skin is warmer than any blanket could ever be and I love the way it feels; if it were anyone else, I'd say he had a fever, but it's Sasuke-sensei and he's always been warm. His arm is around my waist and his eyes are closed as he looks up at the bedraggled roof, which you can see the sky through because it's just that messed up. He looks as if he's thinking and then he pulls my chin up to his with such a force that I think my neck is broken.
His hands are all over me—under my shirt, hooked to my pants, cupping my chin… It feels so good. So very, very good—more than good. It feels right.
Sasuke-sensei pushes me onto the blanket, climbing above me, kissing my neck, trailing down to my collarbone. I shiver in ecstasy; my hands are in his hair somehow, pulling him closer to me. He's trailing lower and lower. I think I should stop him—but it feels so damn good and I just don't think I can.
And then my shirt is off and I know what he's planning. And I just can't do anything but take in the pleasure and try to give him the same and just think about how good it feels—how good his lips feel everywhere, how wonderful he is.
When we're done, when we're finally tired and spent, when his fingers are tracing circles around my back, I can't help but think—this is how we'll be. Never meeting up in public, going behind people's back just to be together. He'll always have his wife, no matter how hard he tries to get rid of her; I'll always be viewed as a "just a kid" to his older friends, no matter how old I get.
I'll always be "The Other Woman."
It sucks and it's horrible; but it's true. He's married and I'm the other woman. It hurts and it stings, but I'm The Other Woman. The one he loves, the one that loves him; the one stealing him from his wife. And it hurts to not be The Woman.
Naruto is really: 5'5
Sakura is really: 5'3
Sasuke is really: 5'6
The Bank of Japan is a real bank; it's the national bank like the Bank of America.
Yes, the reference is to Twilight. No judging, I love the books.