Infamy
Summary: She smiles as his eyes catch on, as he follows her every movement, transfixed and mesmerized. It feels good. A look at Mia's borderline obsession with attention.
Disclaimer: Lyrics come from The Killers' song "Smile Like You Mean It".
A/N: I don't really like Mia (used to, not so much anymore) but I caught a rerun of Uptown Girl and thought of this. It's not much, just a little something...
Save some face; you know you've only got one
Change your ways while you're young
Oh, girl, he'll help you understand
Lucas was always so good at knowing what she needed.
He always told her that she was beautiful, which just so happened to be whenever their conversations lagged or he simply ran out of important things to say—which was all too often. Their conversations were mostly just words with hardly enough meaning, mere utterances to fill up the silent space that seemed to take up living residence between them, but for Mia it was enough.
She loved that he told her what she wanted to hear, and she relished in the feeling that his words would give her, no matter how fleeting the moment was; Lucas always made it easier for her to pretend that the only thing that mattered was how his words made her feel.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered into her ear.
She kept her eyes closed as he kissed her, letting his words wash over her as she wrapped herself in their meaning.
"Say it again."
She tilts her head to the side, and lets her hair fall delicately over her shoulder. Mia sticks out her chin and juts out her hip at just the right angle; every move she makes is calculated, carried out only because of her innate desire to inflict a response. She smiles as Peter's eyes catch on to the way the sun shines in her hair and makes her skin glow, she watches as he follows her every movement, transfixed and mesmerized.
It feels good.
Eyes on me, she thinks. She lets the feeling of satisfaction wash over her as his gaze turns from enraptured to adoring and Peter kisses her. The kiss is lacking the passion that she's always dreamed of, but it does enough to catch the eyes of the passerby, to get her noticed by everyone else.
She has his attention— and theirs— which, for now, is all she really needs from him.
People have always noticed her; this is a fact that she has grown used to, expected, and depended on even.
Before Mia got pregnant, she was revered as the party girl, known in most circles—but not by everyone. Then came the year she turned fourteen, when everything changed and she needed more, and then, two months later when the stick turned a bright, loud, look-at-me pink.
Then, her name was on everyone's lips.
But, after a while, the novelty of walking the halls with a pacifier and stuffed teddy bear in her book bag wore off and she faded, mostly. She wanted—needed—to be known for something else, something bigger.
She never really considered cheer leading before, had never really considered herself to be much of a team player but something within her, the part that felt alive, almost, whenever she was pulled on top of a table at a party, everyone laughing and cheering her on, put herself out there. Spirit Squad, Power Squad she honestly didn't care what it was called. All that mattered, now, was that she was a part of it.
Because when they performed, everybody watched.
Dreams aren't what they used to be
Things sat by so carelessly
"…but Mommy's going to be a model." She runs her fingers through Isabella's hair, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the fact that her daughter looks just like her. Though there is some level, some part of her that is still holding out in the hopes that Isabella won't become her.
She sighs as Isabella tilts her head to look up at her mother in complete and total adoration, a look that does not go by unnoticed by Mia. She smiles.
"And then you'll have a big friend?"
"And then everyone's going to want to be Mommy's friend." She closes her eyes, and tries in vain to pretend that's really all that matters.
Reviews are appreciated. (And loved. :)
