Lovestruck || borusara

III.

Meeting with Bolt Uzumaki sparked only ire and no ideas, leaving Sarada struggling to come up with a creative angle for her article about him for the next few days. Karin gave no other direction beyond "something fresh" which seemed to be both a blessing and a curse. She loved the freedom and trust she was given, but a little more direction would've definitely been helpful.

But even as she ruminated over a few ideas for her cover story, Sarada had to continue with her weekly articles as well. That day she was attending a tennis tournament. A notable qualifying event that would determine who would get to play in the coveted Sunagakure Open.

Tennis was one of the sports she actually preferred covering. The crowds were energetic and invested in the matches, but they were never particularly rowdy.

Sarada sat by herself in the middle of a row in the upper stands. She enjoyed being able to see everything from that vantage point. Beyond the goings-on of the match itself, she loved to describe the imagery of the entire scene and allow her readers to visualize exactly what she was experiencing.

As she sat there watching the ball bounce back and forth between the grunting tennis players, Sarada squirmed in her chair and uncomfortably adjusted the sleeves of her leather jacket. It was tighter than most of the cozy sweaters she normally wore, but that morning she was feeling particularly self-conscious about her clothes.

Sarada hated to admit it, but she may have held up several different outfits in her mirror that morning, asking herself if she could imagine a librarian wearing something like it. If the answer was yes, then she tossed it aside.

She loathed that she let Boruto's words get to her, but she tried not to let herself think about it.

She was so focused watching the game and taking notes, she didn't notice when someone sat in the chair directly beside her until he stretched his arm around the back of her chair.

"Hey stranger," a familiar voice greeted. "Funny running into you here."

Sarada immediately slid into the chair beside her to put some space between them, which only served to make him chuckle. He truly had no regard for boundaries. "Is it really funny, Bolt? I'm a sports journalist."

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "I told you to call me Boruto, or did you forget after you ran away the other day."

She narrowed her eyes at him, wanting so badly to snap at him, tell him she didn't run away, it was more of a strategic retreat. She just desperately needed to put some distance between them or risk punching him in the face.

She was sure her editor would not appreciate that.

But instead of addressing his question, Sarada refocused on the notebook on her lap and posed one of her own. "A better question is what are you doing here?"

"What? You don't think I have interests beyond track?" Boruto replied as an easy smile spread across his lips.

"If I'm being honest, I don't imagine you have interests beyond yourself."

"Now that's not true..." he hummed as he slid into the chair beside her, closing the distance between them. "I'm interested in you."

Sarada glared at him from the corner of her eye, finding that his smile had morphed into a full-on grin. He probably thought he was hilarious.

"No, you are not," she sighed as she adjusted her glasses. "You're interested in me only because I am writing a story about you or because I am very much not interested in you, which for some reason you seem to interpret as a challenge. This is all probably just some elaborate game to feed your ego."