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The thing about bad decisions was that Sakura never recognized them until it was too late.
Case in point: rolling down her window at a red light to tell a complete stranger on a motorcycle, "We should break up."
The helmet turned toward her. Sleek black, tinted visor, the kind of aesthetic that screamed either 'cool mysterious biker' or 'about to star in a car commercial.' The visor lifted.
Sakura's brain short-circuited.
Oh no. He's hot.
Dark eyes, so dark they were almost black, stared at her with a mixture of confusion and stoic composure that should've been illegal. Sharp features, thick unfairly long lashes, and an expression that suggested he was trying to calculate whether she was dangerous or just unhinged.
"I think you've got the wrong person," he said, voice smooth and measured.
"Oh," Sakura said intelligently. Then, because her brain-to-mouth filter had apparently filed for divorce, she said, "You have pretty eyes."
The man blinked once. Slowly, like a cat deciding whether to be offended.
Then he shut the visor with a decisive click.
"Don't drink and drive," he said, voice muffled but dripping with judgment.
The light turned green. The motorcycle purred to life and he was gone, leaving Sakura sitting in her car with her mouth hanging open and her dignity somewhere on the asphalt behind her.
"I WASN'T DRINKING!" she yelled at his disappearing taillight.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Ino: did you do the breakup prank?
Sakura groaned and pulled into a gas station. She parked and thunked her head against the steering wheel. Yes. It went horribly. I looked like an idiot.
lmaooooo did he freak out?
No. He told me not to drink and drive.
HAHAHAHA
Sakura threw her phone into the passenger seat and drove home in mortified silence.
Two weeks later, Sakura had successfully repressed the memory into the "Never Think About This Again" vault in her brain, right next to the time she'd accidentally called her professor Kakashi "mom" and that one karaoke incident involving tequila and dancing on top of the couch with Rock Lee, ties wrapped around their foreheads like drunk salarymen.
Which was why walking into Kisame's mixer party and seeing him—motorcycle man, pretty-eyes guy, her beautiful stranger—standing by the kitchen counter in glasses and a dark button-down was a direct attack from the universe.
Oh no. Oh NO.
He looked good. Too good. The glasses were thin-framed and intellectual, somehow making his already intense features look even more devastating. He was talking to someone, expression calm and composed, and Sakura wanted to melt into the floor.
Maybe he wouldn't recognize her.
"Sakura-chan!" Kisame's booming voice cut through her escape plans like a shark through water. His massive hand clamped onto her shoulder and steered her directly toward her doom. "Come meet my lab partner! Itachi, this is Sakura—med student, chaos incarnate, takes the best notes."
Itachi's dark eyes lifted to hers.
Recognition flickered immediately.
His expression didn't change, still that same stoic mask, but something in his gaze sharpened. He took a deliberate step backward, maintaining professional distance.
"You're stalking me," he said flatly.
"WHAT." Sakura's voice came out strangled. "No I'm not! Kisame invited me!"
"Sakura?" Kisame looked between them, thoroughly entertained. "What did you do to poor Itachi?"
"Why am I automatically the bad guy?!"
"Because Itachi is sweet and kind and gentle," Kisame said with the confidence of someone who clearly hadn't been on the receiving end of that stare.
Sakura pointed at Itachi's face. "His stare alone could kill a whole village."
Itachi's expression shifted—barely, just the slightest downturn of his mouth. "I thought you said I had pretty eyes."
The room temperature increased by several degrees. Or maybe that was just Sakura's face catching fire.
"You DO," she said defensively. "You also have an intense gaze. Both things can be true!"
Kisame's laugh was loud enough to rattle the kitchen window. He clapped a heavy hand on Itachi's shoulder, nearly making him stumble. "Did you forget to wear your contacts again?"
Itachi’s frown deepened into an actual scowl.
Sakura's traitorous heart skipped a beat because somehow he was even more attractive when mildly annoyed, which was unfair and possibly illegal.
"It's uncomfortable," Itachi said, adjusting his glasses with one finger in a gesture that should not have been as attractive as it was. "I'm going back to glasses."
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Sakura wasn't prepared for this. A sexy motorcycle stranger was one thing. Sexy motorcycle stranger who wore glasses and scowled adorably and had supposedly never done anything wrong in his entire life…
She was in danger.
"So," Kisame said, grin widening like he could smell blood in the water, "how do you two know each other?"
"We don't," Itachi said quickly.
"Red light," Sakura said at the same time.
Kisame's eyebrows rose. "Red light?"
"It was nothing," Itachi said.
"I pranked him," Sakura said, because apparently self-preservation had also filed for divorce along with her brain-to-mouth filter. "Told him we should break up. He thought I was drunk."
"You rolled down your window to tell a stranger you were breaking up with him?" Kisame looked delighted. "That's the most unusual thing I've ever heard you do, Sakura."
"It was supposed to be funny!"
"It was concerning," Itachi said. "You appeared intoxicated and were operating a vehicle."
"I was SOBER! Completely sober! It was a PRANK!"
"A prank," Itachi repeated, like he was tasting the word and finding it questionable.
"Yes! A harmless joke! Ino dared me and—" Sakura stopped. "Wait, why am I defending myself? You told me not to drink and drive and then just left!"
"The light turned green."
"You could've stayed!"
"And blocked traffic?"
"At an empty intersection?!"
Itachi adjusted his glasses again. "Traffic laws exist for a reason."
"Oh my god," Sakura said. "You're one of those people who comes to a complete stop at stop signs."
"That is the purpose of stop signs."
"I—you—" Sakura gestured wildly. "You're impossible!"
"And yet you're the one who pretended to break up with a stranger."
Kisame was basically vibrating with glee. "This is the best party I've ever thrown."
Sakura glared at Itachi. Itachi gazed back, expression neutral except for the faintest suggestion of smugness in his eyes.
Those stupid pretty eyes behind those stupid attractive glasses on his stupid handsome face.
"You know what?" Sakura grabbed a drink from the counter—definitely non-alcoholic, because of spite—and raised it in a mock toast. "I'm glad we broke up. We were clearly incompatible."
Itachi's lips twitched.
Was that— was he amused?
"Clearly," he agreed. "Though traditionally, one dates before breaking up."
"Maybe I was breaking up with you preemptively, saving us both time."
"How efficient."
"I'm a med student. Time management is crucial."
"I'm a grad student. I understand the value of efficiency." He paused. "Though typically, pranking strangers at red lights seems inefficient."
Sakura's jaw dropped. "Did you just—are you teasing me?"
Kisame wheezed.
Itachi's expression remained carefully neutral, but there was definitely something warm in his eyes now. "I don't tease. I'm sweet and kind and gentle, remember?"
"You're a menace is what you are."
"Says the woman who stages fake breakups with strangers."
"ONCE! I did it ONCE!"
"How do I know you won't do it again?" Itachi asked, and was that dryness in his tone actual humor? "Perhaps I should maintain distance. For safety."
"Oh, so NOW you're worried about safety? Not when you're riding a motorcycle?"
"I wear a helmet."
"A helmet and a death wish!"
"The Ducati is perfectly safe."
"Oh it's a Ducati, of course it is—"
"Should I leave you two alone?" Kisame asked, still grinning.
"No," they said in unison and then looked at each other.
Sakura felt her cheeks warm. Itachi's expression remained frustratingly composed, but he was still standing there, engaged in the conversation, close enough now that she could see the exact shade of dark, dark brown in his eyes behind those glasses.
"So," she said, trying to regain some dignity. "Grad student, huh? What field?"
"Biomedical engineering."
"Seriously?"
"You sound surprised."
"It’s just—" She gestured at him. "You look like you should be modeling for like, architectural magazines. Brooding on minimalist furniture."
Kisame choked on his drink.
Itachi blinked. "That's... oddly specific."
"I'm just saying! You have the cheekbones for it!"
"Thank you?"
"I wasn't complimenting you." Sakura wanted the floor to swallow her. "I'm going to stop talking now."
"Please don't," Itachi said. There was definitely warmth in his voice now. "This is the most interesting conversation I've had at one of these events."
"Really?"
"Usually people discuss thesis papers and lab results."
"And that's... bad?"
"It's tedious." He adjusted his glasses one more time. "Fake breakups and unsolicited compliments are more engaging."
Sakura laughed despite herself. "Is that your roundabout way of saying you want to keep talking?"
"I'm saying," Itachi said carefully, "that perhaps I was too hasty at the red light."
Her heart did something complicated. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." The corner of his mouth quirked up. Barely. But it was there. "Though for the record, if we're going to date, we should probably start from the beginning."
"Who said anything about dating?"
"You implied it. At the intersection."
"I was JOKING—"
"So you don't want to go out?"
Sakura opened her mouth, then closed it. And opened it again.
Itachi waited, patient and infuriating and somehow more attractive by the second.
"...I didn't say that," she finally managed.
"Good." He pulled out his phone. "Number?"
"You're very presumptuous for someone who accused me of stalking."
"You're very defensive for someone who just admitted she wants to go out with me."
"I did NOT—"
He held out his phone, waiting.
Sakura grabbed it and inputted her number with more force than necessary. "There. Happy?"
"Very." He sent her a text immediately: This is Itachi. Don't drink and drive. Or stage any more fake breakups.
She looked up at him, fighting a smile. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Not a chance."
"You're impossible."
"You've mentioned." His expression softened slightly. "Coffee this week?"
"...Fine. But you're not allowed to ride your motorcycle."
"Why not?"
"Because if you die before our first date, I'll look pathetic."
Itachi actually smiled then—a real one, small but genuine—and Sakura decided that the universe was definitely trying to kill her, just in a different way than she'd expected.
"Deal," he said. "I'll take my car."
"You have a car AND a motorcycle? Who are you?"
"You'll find out," Itachi said. "On our date."
Kisame, who'd been watching this entire exchange like it was his favorite TV show, raised his own drink. "I'm absolutely taking credit for this relationship."
"We're not in a relationship," Sakura and Itachi said together.
Then they looked at each other again.
"...Yet," Sakura added, feeling brave.
Itachi's smile widened. "Yet."
Yeah. She was definitely in danger.
As Itachi excused himself to grab a drink and Sakura watched him go, she couldn't quite bring herself to mind.
"You're blushing," Kisame observed.
"Shut up."
"He wears glasses AND rides a motorcycle. You never stood a chance."
"I hate you, Kisame."
"You love me. Also you're totally dating the guy you fake-broke-up with. That's poetry."
Sakura groaned and buried her face in her hands.
But she was smiling.