A/N : i sincerely apologize to the readers who read chpt. 2, my reasoning is expressed on my pfp.

to the anon who asked me why Sasuke and Sakura's last names were different: Their surnames are different because they're American. I felt that them having their Japanese last names threw off the NY American '50s vibe i'm trying to give my readers. if it bothers you, though, you can revert them back. :)

read slowly for full feel !

disclaimer: i do not own the manga/anime, naruto

enjoy

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Sakura flinched from the sudden contact of cold water cascading unmercifully on her collarbone. She had managed to slip past her sixty-eight year old neighbor, Ms. Langdon, who would've prodded her with questions as to why she looked the way she did walking in.

Pulling her hand through her small body brush, the pianist grabbed her lavender peppermint gel soap and swirled it along the tan bristles. She closed her eyes as she wrapped her free arm around her waist while the other scrubbed her back.

A closed smile graced her lips, for her mind loudly replayed only two words over and over again, your ravishing…

They made her feel giddy and happy on the inside. She had never heard such words come out of one's mouth so meaningfully.

A soft moan escaped her lips as a result of running the tan bristles over the tiny sensitive hickeys on the insides of her thighs. Sakura recalled the way Sasuke had dragged the tips of his midnight locks from her neck down to mingle with the pink curls on her womanhood as he intended to nibble on said thighs. The sensations he made her feel were like nothing she had ever experienced.

Switching the shower handle off, Sakura dried and lathered herself in her vanilla scented lotion. When she brought herself to the mirror, she noticed the minor plum red indentation of Sasuke's teeth on the juncture in between her neck and shoulder. A deep blush crept itself onto her cheeks as she stared at it a second too long.

Sakura waltzed over on her tippy toes to her dresser where she picked out a lace peach colored bikini bottom that went with a non-padded floral lace bra, and a pair of charcoal peg pants. She chose not to wear a top because she dorkily wanted to show off her new marks to the objects in her apartment.

Throat still dry as the Sahara, she decides to put her tea kettle on the stove to make a packet of ginger tea and while she waits for the water to boil, makes two eggs over-easy and cuts a fresh mango from the farmer's market around the corner.

Once everything was done, Sakura grabbed her plate, steaming ginger tea, and book of latin poetry, to make her way over to her small green kitchen table only to be stopped by the call of a certain clear pill bottle in the medicine cabinet. The pianist cursed under her breath.

Anxiety Soothers. The new product of the pharmacy market. That was what was living in that clear pill bottle. She dreaded putting the drugs in her system, for she had wanted to overcome her fear naturally and head on, but in the allotted time her therapist gave her to do so, nothing she did worked.

Inhaling and exhaling heavily, Sakura set her tea, food, and book down, reached up to get the bottle, and picked out a random sand colored pill. She studied it in her palm as she made her way back, wondering how something so small could impact her as much as it did.

It was almost as if the dreaded pills were being released from their many bottles in the sky because rain began to patter heavily outside. Perplexed to see how life on the side of her apartment reacted, she left her focus on the pill to peer through her beige drapes for her eyes to be met with countless black umbrellas being opened, kids running back and forth in forming puddles, and a woman struggling to open her own umbrella while making sure her child didn't do the same. She chuckled lightly at the mother's struggle and hoped that some man would eventually offer her his.

Sitting back down, Sakura fiddled with the capsule and questioned whether she actually needed to take it.

I think we feel good, right?

We. Feel. Great! Her inner voice told her.

Yeah, we do feel great don't we…

We feel better than great in all honesty.

Sakura smiled at the little conversation with herself and tossed the pill in the garbage can. If she genuinely felt great, then there was no reason to take it.

Grabbing her big round amber spectacles and perching them on the top of her nose, Sakura took a sip of tea before opening her book of poems to the page where she left off. Just her regular Sunday morning routine; With the company of a lingering hangover.

Not too long after indulging in her book, a soft purr was heard from behind her sofa. Looking over the pianist saw her British shorthair, Juno, hanging his grey front paws over the armrest. Juno was the gift to herself from last year's Christmas. The two had a rough relationship for a good while, for he destroyed the lives of the plants that were stationed in the corners of her apartment for two months. It took Sakura a while to finally get through and train him to go out the window to his litterbox on the fire escape.

"Come here boy." Sakura told the shorthair.

Complying to her call, he made his way over and hopped in her lap. "You bad rascal." She giggled lightly as his whiskers tickled her abdomen.

Sakura stroked his nape and returned to her reading for a good thirty minutes till she was interrupted by a rap at her door.

She looked down at her attire and pushed her cat off to scramble to her dresser. "Uhhh.. Just a minute!" Throwing a maroon turtleneck over her drying hair, she peered through her peephole to see her friend, Temari gnawing at her thumbnail.

When she opened the door, she was immediately tackled by her friend's strong arms. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry for bailing on you last night!"

"It's okay," The pianist replied as she returned the hug. "I managed."

"Really? What, did Doreen and Fitz drive you back?"

They could've if Doreen hadn't set me up, Sakura said to herself as she prepared to use the lie.

"Yeah, yeah, they drove-"

The pianist trailed off to her friend's sudden change in atmosphere. Temari had leaned her nose in closer to Sakura's face with eyebrows drawn to the middle. Two sniffs was all it took for her to widen her eyes and burst out with the question, "Have you been drinking?!"

Merde.

You'd think brushing your teeth and ginger tea would be enough to cover the liquor smell.

Yanking her friend into her home, Sakura shut the door, hoping Ms. Langdon's keen ears hadn't heard her outburst and wouldn't come knocking on her door asking about it later.

"You're not hoarding liquor somewhere are you..?"

Temari was no idiot. So the truth was the best thing Sakura could come up with since she threw the car ride lie in the trash.

Sakura motioned for her friend to sit down on her teal sofa while she made her a cup of tea.

How am I going to tell her…?

You're going to tell her straight-up. I don't know why you are making this such a big deal. She has hook ups all the time, she'll understand.

Nodding to herself, Sakura handed Temari's cup of tea and plopped down next to her.

"Okay so last night," The pianist started. "I met this guy after my performance. He had ordered my favorite bar drink and we just started talking, yeah,"

Her long-legged friend nodded frantically.

"I had a couple drinks too many and I told him that you weren't coming to pick me up, 'cause it was bordering midnight. So I guess I might've lead him on or something— I don't really remember because of my consumption— and he offered me to come with him to his residence…"

Temari widened her eyes and motioned for her to go on.

Choosing to leave the police chase out of the conversation, Sakura fast forwarded to when they entered the elevator. "and.. emmmm... We hit it off."

"Oh my," Her yellow haired friend exclaimed. "Oh my, This is your first one-nighter in the big city, right?!"

Oh yeah, it sure was Sakura's first hook up in all her two years of living in New York. Crazy.

Blushing, she nodded her head and fiddled with a hangnail.

"What was it like? Did you catch an energy different from your hook-ups in Santa Barbara?"

I don't know… did we? Sakura asked her inner.

I can't recall.

Shrugging her shoulders, Sakura replied with a maybe.

"Was he handsome?" Temari asked wiggling her thin eyebrows.

Sakura fell back on her coach and closed her eyes. "Handsome isn't even the word for him."

"So he was ugly….?"

"Oh God no!" The pianist exclaimed as she abruptly sat up. Sakura described Sasuke as in depth as possible to her yellow haired friend, earning many exclaims and looks of awe.

Temari let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so relieved to know that your finally using your sexiness."

Sakura laughed.

"I'm serious, Sakura. I don't know if you've noticed but you're a real head turner. You could walk up in any Hollywood production studio any time you wish and BAM! You're topping that lady on your bookcase and Monroe." Temari tells her pointing to said Ingrid Bergman poster. "That's why I don't understand why you won't ditch trying to become a physician and make good money acting."

Sakura frowned at her reasoning. "I want to become a physician because I have an opportunity to actually help people. Not be the reason why men suffer from chronic masturbation."

Temari choked on her tea and burst out laughing.

"I'm serious."

Bringing a hand up to soothe her throat, Temari slowly ceased her laughter. "Okay, I'll take that reason."

The two sat on Sakura's sofa sipping tea together while continuing to talk about each other's weekends.

"Well, you little minx," Her yellow haired friend finally said nudging her side. "If you're up for more fun, there's going to be this roof-top party over in Times Square, but the only turnoff is that it's on the night of our Latin exam..."

"Okay then, no. I will not be joining you." Sakura said getting up to pick up her bummed shorthair.

Temari groaned heavily. "Oh come on, pleaseeee? I know you've already prepped for it, so don't try to come up with an excuse."

"Temari, regardless if I already prepped for it, I won't get my fill of sleep."

"What's your class before Latin again?"

Raising an eyebrow, Sakura replied telling her she had still life painting before Latin.

"Well guess what? Professor Lefebre is in France for the whole week, so if you go with me, you can use that period to catch a couple zees in the commons."

Sakura raised a skeptical eyebrow at her friends reasoning. In spite of her persistence, it wasn't like Temari to off a night's rest before an exam like this one, and there's only one reason why she would. "Who's going to be there that you want to see?"

There was a long pause on Temari's side. Sakura smirked at this and hopped over the sofa to stare into her friend's deep green eyes.

A blush crept onto her face as she nervously scratched her temple. "Err.. Who said I wanted to see someone?"

The pianist dismissed her friend with a "Pshh". "Please, Temari. I've known you long enough."

"Okay fine. This boy from culinary brought his NYU buddy to taste test his food, and I guess he found what I was making looked better and asked me if he could try it. So I let him do so, and after he expressed to me how good it was, he invited me to said party."

Sakura hummed. "So you want me to go as backup?"

Temari nodded her head.

"Well why didn't you say so? If I go, though, just promise me you won't make me go for nothin'." The pianist told her slyly.

Sakura's golden haired friend slapped her on the arm and burst out laughing. "You get your little kitty loosened once in New York and now you don't know how to act."

Sakura stuck her tongue out.

Temari then sighed and stood up. "Well I'm going to head back home, I just came to make sure you were okay and to persuade you to come with me to the party."

Getting up with shorthair in arm, Sakura kissed the sides of her friend's cheeks and saw her out the door. The energy around her shifted back to its normal mellow wave.

Accompanied by the creaking of her floor boards, the pianist shuffled over to her record player to have her daily dosage of listening to Nat King Cole's, Answer Me My Love.

Sakura holds Juno at arm's length and swirls with the violins as she waits for the singer's powerful voice.

"Answer me, oh my love…" She sings as she brought the shorthair's face to rest on her shoulder. Sakura swayed them to the song's slow tempo. "Just what sin have I been guilty of…"

The song was deep, beautiful, and sad; It was everything that caused the pianist tear up on her gloomy days. She loved the way the lyrics seeped through her skin and flowed to heal the one part of her being that was wounded.

"...You must know I've been true, won't you say that we can start anew…?"

Juno purred as he was brought face to face with his owner. "...Please answer me, my love."

The song finally cut off and Sakura gave her cat a quick peck on the nose before setting him down. As she watched him scurry off to his spot behind the window, she silently hoped that one day she'd find someone other than the rascal to sway with.

Sakura flipped a different record in her hand, placed it on its slot, and moved the stylus to hear a saxophone open a slow piece. She then decides to busy herself with house chores and homework the rest of the evening,,

It was 10:05p.m. when the pianist's head finally graced her pillow. She had done her laundry, swept and mopped the floors, cleaned the windows, peer edited her literature buddy's essay, cooked herself a pot of farfalle with blue cheese and mushrooms, finished writing her five paged paper in Latin for Wednesday, and pin curled her hair. Busy day indeed.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as she felt the tension in her back relax. Tomorrow was going to be another busy day, and the day after tomorrow even more so.

After straining to switch her lamp off, she sensed her pupils enlarge to her now moon lit room. She admired under heavy eyelids how the shadow of the tree in front of her window danced freely with the wind.

Must be nice, Sakura thought as she hugged herself under her sheets.

The unconscious action caused the pianist to remember the way Sasuke had held her yesterday morning. He held her in such a way that gave off many mixed signals in the sober portion of her mind, but couldn't have cared to think on them because she liked the way she fitted in his embrace; she liked the way he had made her feel safe before going into her wacky dream. Safe from her unwavering fear of entrapment. She couldn't quite place what it was about him that made her feel this way— the feeling of safety— and shook her head to only tell herself it was just the sex and the drinks before subcoming to sleep.

However, some part of her knew deep down that it had to run much deeper than drinks and sex if he had made her childhood episode disolve for a night,,

Pouring the rest of her raisin bran in the toilet, Sakura set the empty cereal bowl down on the sink and scrambled out of her home. Oversleeping was something she did rarely and hated to do when she did so. There was no telling how much longer she would have slept if Juno wasn't there to paw at her nose.

The pianist limped down the stairs— the happening of stubbing her toe on her way to the bathroom— and scurried out the door only to be yanked to the damp concrete stairs. She snapped her head back to see her satchel caught on the chipping bronze door knob. Shaking her head, she unhooked the bag free, dusted the back of her charcoal reefer coat, and clicked away to the subway.

The air was thick and moist, and the warmth of it mingled with the leftover cool water on her face as she entered the subway.

Once inside the school, her nose was bitterly greeted with the different toilettes and parfums every woman had sprayed on last minute; One of which caused her to sneeze a good six times while stalking towards the Milbank Hall.

Just as she was about to ascend the victorian-like stairs to her class, she turned to the shout of her name to see Tenten and her girlfriend, Hinata, moving through the rush of women to herself.

"Hey, Sakura." Tenten said. "Professor Vincent just wanted me to let everyone know that shorthand class is reduced to forty-five minutes. He supposedly has to make it back in time to take his son to the dentist. A bitchin' cavity."

Hinata elbowed her girlfriend on the arm for the last sentence and acknowledge Sakura with a soft good morning.

"Oh," Sakura started. "Well then I guess I'll just go study in the Avery library for the rest of the thirty minutes."

"Sweet. Well, we best get going." Tenten said as she wrapped her arm around Hinata's waist and led them back into the swarm of women.

"See you then."

What a cute couple, Sakura thought to herself as she resumed her trek up the staircase.

Despite all the criticism and looks they get, Tenten and Hinata have been strong with each other for two years. Though, the criticism falls the hardest on Hinata since constantly receiving it from her father.

The grey eyed girl had told Sakura the story of the day she cut her once waist length hair to the uneven, but stylish, undercut she has now and upon coming down for dinner, her father sent her hurtling to the floor from a strong slap on the cheek accompanied by many heart aching insults.

When she told her girlfriend, Tenten and her 5'9 self marched up to their mansion, yanked Hiashi from his sleep, and tied him to his apple tree. She then got her father's clippers and her mother's makeup palette, to shave his hair right down the middle and paint his face rather horrendously.

"A fine 'Liz Taylor." Tenten said she had told him.

That following week, Tenten coaxed her father into letting the two move into the loft that he owned not to far from campus. The two still live there, humbly and lovingly, and if they ever argue, it's once every six months.

Sakura pushed open the flower carved wooden doors of her philosophy class to see her professor, Ebisu, reading a thick novel— feet lazily propped up on the edge of his desk.

"Morning, Professor."

Ebisu peered from the top of his sunglasses. "Goodmorning, how was the weekend?"

Sakura looked down and smiled before answering. "Let's just put it as eventful, yeah?"

"Should I ask why?"

"Negative."

Ebisu chuckled at her reply and resumed reading his book.

Sakura chose to take a seat by the window with a relentless fog on it and busied herself with making a hopeless origami swan.

More and more women began to fill up empty seats, and eventually the aging professor stopped his reading to open.

"Today," He started as he got up to lean on his desk. "We will be taking a break from the overrated Greek philosophers and travel into the minds of the Chinese thinkers, Confucius and Mencius. I assume many of you know of Confucius..."

Everyone nodded.

"Okay, how many of you know of Mencius?"

Sakura and a few other women raised their hands.

Ebisu then went on and on about Mencius and his view point compared to Confucius's, the two's standard description for benevolence, and how they demonstrated it. Fifteen minutes into the lesson, though, Sakura turned her viridian irises to the heavy fog that ceased to let up as she glided the uneven swan along the desk in front of her.

She chose to think back to her weekend and wonder what the possibility of Sasuke revisiting the jazz club was. She assumed it was very slim since in many cases, a person has a hook-up once. No further ties. So there was no reason for him to come back if sex was all he came for and got it. Yet she couldn't help but think if she had made an impression on him the way he did her— made him feel some type of way that caused him to potentially want more...

The pianist sighed and brought her swan to peck at the fogged windowpane.

I can't help but feel like a trollop...

Are you serious? Her inner countered back. If that were true every woman in this room would be considered a damn trollop.

I don't know, it's just that I shouldn't even be thinking about him anymore, ya know? He got what he wanted. It's childish to think he'd come back.

..You never know. The real question, though, is would you be willing to do it again if he did.

Sakura inwardly cringed at this. Well then I'd really be a trollop.

Stop blocking how you feel from a ridiculous stereotype. Maybe he wouldn't even come back for sex; Maybe he'd come back just for your company. You never know.

Yeah, sure. The pianist blocked her inner's thoughts at the previous statement, massaged her temple, and zoned back into Ebisu's lesson.

Thirty-five minutes later, class ended with a question written on the chalkboard: Confucianism or Aristotelianism?

The question was opinionated and easy to answer. Just how she likes them.

The rest of the day went along smoothly and productively. Calculus was a drag, Organic Chemistry was a breeze, Latin was nerve-racking, Posture class was blood boiling, and shorthand was depressingly difficult— as always.

Temari and Sakura met up on the stairs of the Low Memorial library, Temari with a bag of lemon bars leftover from culinary. Snow, Fog, grueling heat- somebody was always on lengthy stairs of the huge library. They were either studying, or eating and talking just as the two Barnard girls are.

Sakura moaned at the rush of lemon flavor. "Gosh, these are so good."

Temari gave her friend a proud smile. "Why thank you. Homemade right inside—Temari pointed at the Columbia campus— of their new kitchen."

The pianist closed her eyes at the lemon taste that was leftover in her mouth.

"Tomorrow," Temari started while wiping her mouth. "Kankuro and I are going to pick you up at eight, 'Kay?"

Kankuro was one of Temari's younger brothers. He had ditched NYU after his first year and opened up a workshop business with one of his friends.

"Thought he cut off all his ties with NYU?" Sakura asked.

Temari took a minute to savor another bite. "I mean, he still has his little buddies."

Nodding and finishing the piece of lemon bar that'd make them consume an even amount, Sakura announced her leave to go work her shift at the coffee house on 110th.

"Okay, doll." Her friend said. "See you in physics tomorrow and then at eightttt."

Tuesday night came faster than anticipated and as of right now, Sakura stared at her appearance in the bathroom mirror.

The pianist wore her hair side-parted in curls inspired by her television idol, Ingrid Bergman, put a light application of blood colored lipstick on, and pinched the sides of her cheeks. She dressed herself in a navy and green check patterned slim skirt that matched a fitted v-neck button-up vest, which went over a plain white turtleneck.

A honk was eventually heard from outside and the pianist tipped over to her foyer to put on her loafers and royal blue overcoat. She slung her purse on her shoulder and exited her home with the blow of a kiss directed to her shorthair.

"Well aren't you the looker." Kankuro said as she walked down the concrete steps. The pianist smiled at the compliment and mouthed a thank you.

Upon entering the back seat, she was greeted with a wide smile in the rear view mirror. "I knew you'd step up." The smile said from the passenger seat.

Temari's hair was down in wide finger waves to the back and her lips were painted a wine red instead of her signature plum lipstick.

Once exiting the car after the twenty minute ride, the group of three were now walking up the few stairs to the rooftop of the luxurious building. Kankuro looked around for a bit then eventually waved over a boy with a fresh buzz cut.

"Ah! You've made it, man." The boy said. He smelled of beer and cigarettes. "And who are the ladies?"

Kankuro introduced his older sister first then Sakura to the boy who was named, Jannik.

"Well, make yourselves at home, socialize, dance, get drunk, do whatever the hell you want." He told the two women as he started to walk away with Kankuro. "Though, don't fall off the roof."

Didn't plan on it, Sakura sarcastically thought.

Looking around, Sakura noticed a small group of people playing poker, a boy making out with two girls in his arms, couples dancing wildly to a loud record on a black platform, and various people smoking marijuana on the rooftop edge.

Temari was waved over by a group of boys and girls playing a drinking game and smoking the green stuff.

"Come on," Temari said grabbing ahold of Sakura's overcoat's sleeve. "Let's go socialize first."

So she did, the pianist socialized, sipped a little punch that happened to be spiked, hit some random girl's blunt, and played their little drinking game. Whilst still making sure Temari and the boy she came to see, who's name was Shikamaru, were hitting it off okay.

Lifting the red cup and not receiving any liquid, Sakura got up out of boredom and went over to the white table with the big bowl to pour the whole thing of "punch" over the roof.

Upon getting to the bowl she met eyes with a man who was leaning against the table arms folded. His hair was wild and a crimson flame red and his eyes were a deep greyish brown.

Sakura awkwardly smiled to him, revealing her right dimple. "I assume you're in charge with spiking the punch."

He didn't answer, just continued to watch her. Sakura took his silence as a hurt feeling for the assumption and apologized.

"To be honest, I am standing here to warn people that it's spiked." He eventually told her.

It took Sakura a second to catch on, but in his deep voice was something foreign, almost… Scottish?

"Forgive me, but I have to ask." Sakura said. The curiosity was nagging her.

The red haired boy raised an eyebrow and continued to stare at her.

"Are you Scottish?"

He laughed and stared at the night sky. "Where have I heard that one before?"

Sakura looked down at her feet then peered back up at him.

"No, Canadian. From New Brunswick."

She mouthed an "ohh" and threw her empty red cup in a nearby garbage can. She leaned against the table with the man and looked up at the stars as well.

"Can I ask what brings you here to this depressing party?" She asked while never breaking her gaze from a random star.

Another delayed response. "A good friend who I run a workshop with, he told me to come."

"Oh you must be Kankuro's friend."

The man nodded. "And you?"

"Kankuro's sister and I go to school at Barnard together." Sakura told him.

He responded by telling her she was a smart girl for getting into Barnard, but the girl sounded more like gay-rle.

Sakura's ears perked up to the shout of her name, and looked to see her golden haired friend, legs draped across Shikamaru, waving her over frantically.

"Well, mother calls." Sakura said as she started to walk off.

"I didn't get your name." He told her as he brought his eyes to meet hers.

Sakura smirked playfully. "I never gave it to ya."

He only gave a quick tug of the corner of his lips and turned his attention elsewhere.

"My name is Sakura, and you?"

"Sasori."

A/N : hope you liked this chapter !

please do review 'cause some input would be gr8 right about now, lmao.