title: like the city in nevada

summary: her name was Vegas and he never stood a chance




Her name is Vegas, like the city, all bright lights sparkle and glitter shimmer smiles and he'd never stood a chance (none of them did, really, but that didn't stop them from trying). Her eyes are blue and grey, pretty and mismatched and her red mouth is forever curved up in a smirk full of secrets.

She wears mini-skirts and studded boots and leather jackets over bright colored shirts that clash beautifully with her peacock blue hair. There are too many bracelets on her wrists that clink against each other whenever she walks and that's how he knows when she's near; because of the noisy bangles and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke that clings to her like a second skin.

She's smart without even trying but her favorite subject is English. She writes short poems on her desk in permanent black ink and she never gets in trouble for it. It pisses him off that she was always getting away with things like this because her mommy donated a shitload of money to the school. It pisses him off more than anything. She pisses him the fuck off.

Starke hates her.

(but not really)




He hates the way she walks, with her hips swaying and chin held strong and she's so fucking stuck up she probably doesn't even know she's doing it except Starke knows that she does. Vegas walks like she owns the whole goddamn world and everyone else isn't even worth the fucking dirt on the bottom of her silver studded leather boots.

So when she walks past him in the halls at school he can't help but to lean in and whisper in her ear.


The echoing sound of her palm meeting his cheek is enough to stop time.




They're alone in detention.

The air around them is crackling with all kinds of tension and it's the beginning recipe for disaster but Starke can't stop glaring at her because it's her fault he's in here anyway (yeah, that's right he refuses to take responsibility for any of it because she's the one who decided to fucking hit him).

Vegas smirks at him. "They say that glaring at someone is just mentally undressing them with your eyes," she says, "Like what you see, yeah?" He scowls at her, at her infuriating smirk and cocky attitude.

"I hate you," he says and then she's leaning over his desk, so close that he can smell the cigarette smoke on her jacket and the watermelon flavored bubblegum she's chewing.

"Good," she says, "'Cause hate sex is best anyway." And before he can really process what she just said, she's crashing her lips against his and he's kissing her back and then the two of them are fucking right there on the desk and neither one is very sorry about it.




It changes absolutely nothing.

They still hate each other, she still manages to get under his skin and he still calls her things like Bitch, Slut, or Cunt instead of her name just to piss her off because he won't say it out loud but it turns him on when she's angry.

Nothing changes because he still hates her and that is something that will never change.

(but obviously Starke is In Denial and this is nothing new)




He pretends not to be interested whenever her name comes up in a conversation, which is all the time actually, because she's one of those girls that everyone seems to like, she doesn't even have to try. That's also just a little part of the List of things about Vegas Garret that Pisses Off Starke Michaels.

He pretends not to see her when she passes him in the hallways or anywhere else.

He pretends that he doesn't think that she's so goddamn beautiful standing under the rain behind the baseball field three blocks away from the school, with her shirt sticking to her skin and her eyes glaring at him because he's late and she's been waiting all this time to be kissed.

And when he does kiss her he pretends that he doesn't feel anything at all because she means nothing at all to him and his heart doesn't race for her.

Starke is good at pretending a lot of things.




He's the first one to fall.

It takes him about two weeks to realize this.

It takes another month or so for him to admit it to himself.

It takes no time at all for him to not tell her.




Her last day at school is on a Thursday. She's leaving right after to catch a flight to her new home in London because that's where her mother's new job is going to be as the new CEO of whatever company it is that she works for in the first place.

He avoids her all day because he doesn't know how to talk to her.

(because he's a coward)

He offers to drive her home though because it's the least he could do and maybe on the way to her place he could figure out what he wants to say or if he wants to say anything at all. He's only a little surprised when she accepts.

He's just a little more surprised when halfway to her house she turns to him and says, "How about one for the road?" with a pointed glance at the backseat of his car and this funny smile on her face that he thinks looks just a little sad.

He does what she wants anyway because she's leaving, because this is going to be the last of their hate-sex rendezvous and he wants to leave his mark on her for a long time after this and when she digs her nails into his bare back so it bleeds, he knows that she's thinking the same thing.

When she leaves all he says to her is "Well it was nice while it lasted" with a grin that hurts his face even though what he wanted to say was "So I think I might love you but I guess it's too late now, huh?"

And Vegas just smiles at him like city lights and she's so pretty with her sad mismatched eyes and says, "Yeah" before going into her house to finish packing and to never see him again.


(and all he has left of her now is the hand print on the dusty glass window of his car)