She Holds the Cards |SasuHina|

Part II: The Name They Grew to Know

"Hinata."

That name trembled through the bookshelves of the library, rattling, drifting over her head. Sat there on the rough carpet, back pushed against a shelf, a few books scattered around her, she felt as if she had just been caught. Which was weird because she wasn't hiding — not totally. If she were hiding, she would not even be at school, let alone in the library, where she spent most of her early mornings. If she were hiding, she'd maybe wear a hat or a mask or something to make herself less noticeable.

It wasn't hiding that she was doing, necessarily, but avoiding.

But when that name came and fire struck her heart, she knew that it was stupid to think she could avoid him of all people.

Because Sasuke Uchiha, for the past few days, seemed to only come in two situations:

1) When she least expected it; or

2) When she most expected it.

And, to her dismay, it was both.

...

He stood there like a tower.

It made her uneasy.

But more so did his shadowy eyes that bore into her — at all of her — at her white face and crouched posture and baggy eyes — but mostly at her hair. Her uneven, unkept, unattractive hair that stuck around like a phantom in her bathroom back home. Hinata shrunk under that heavy, immovable gaze, wondering, wiggling, holding her breath.

She must have become like everyone else, curious and wondering what he had to say and why in God's name wasn't he saying it?

Lips turning down slightly, he crouched in front of her, falling to her eye level. "You don't have to say anything." When he did that, did he think he was more approachable? But if anything, Hinata felt more nervous. "I already know. It's because of Naruto, isn't it."

Her eyes widened. How . . . does he know that?

Was it because he was friends with Naruto? Did that somehow give him insight into her life? She knew during sophomore year, Naruto was struggling with a few things, and even when she was . . . still trying, she couldn't help him with everything. Surely, he'd go to one of his best friends to talk. And, maybe, somehow, he ended up talking about her.

She gave a weak nod, wondering how much he knew, exactly.

"Tch." Sasuke turned his sharp gaze to one of the books on the floor. "I don't get it."

Well, it couldn't have been everything.

Feeling claustrophobic (he was a bit too close), Hinata pulled all her belongings together, stuffed them into her backpack, and stood. "Um," she began, scooping some of the books off the floor and returning them to the shelf, "y-you said you got m-my number from N-N-Naruto. Why?"

He stood, as well, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Because I wanted it."

Placing the last book on the shelf, she thought back to yesterday, to that tone. "B-Because," she whispered, looking over her shoulder and trying, with all her might, to meet his eye, "y-you were f-flirting with me, right?"

All that escaped him was the bat of an eye. He said nothing, and she wished she had said nothing. In the past, as short as a few weeks ago, the silence would have been a normal response for him. Expected, in some cases. But now, with how things were, all the silence made her feel was right — right about everything. And she didn't want that at all. Because even though this was Sasuke — cool, collected Sasuke — she could still feel Naruto somewhere beyond him, lingering. "I-I don't want N-Naruto to have my n-number." One step at a time, she left. Left the books, the library, him. It was harder than she expected. "And, um, I-I don't want y-y-you to have it, either."