diclaimer: i don't own Newsies. but you probably get a kick out of that, right?

a/n: another one-shot, kelsey? really? yes. because i have nothing better to do with my life and i'm currently writing in bulk for my other two stories. and i'm not really allowed on the computer, so i type as fast as i can and post that squared.

so read, review, hug a tree.

For the longest time, I thought I could ignore you. I thought - no, I knew - that I was stronger than the regular street rat whores you were with. I was smarter.

I knew.

I knew you were incapable of caring for anyone, anyone but yourself. I knew you would never love, and in turn, you could never be happy.

Not sincerely happy, at least.

When you'd smirk at me, I'd look away. When you talked to me, I'd act as if I was interested in anything but you.

That killed you.

That made you vulnerable.

And I loved that.

You'd drink yourself into a stupor, watching the one girl you wanted. But you didn't want me. Not really. You wanted the idea of me; the idea that there was one girl you couldn't get drove you wild.

Still, your attempts were futile.

Your advances, shot down.

Because I was playing your game, now. And I was winning. You still fought, though.

You still smirked, you still offered your best pick-up lines, you even went as far as to send flowers.

Unfortunately, I'm allergic.

Somehow, you always managed to be where I was. You'd pretend to sell your papers outside the store I was in, or in the market place.

I laughed.

I had to admit, you were stubborn. But so was I.

You'd look my way, I'd pretend not to notice, then you'd pretend to just see me as I'd walk by, "Evelyn!" you'd call.

I kept my gaze forward, continued walking.

You'd sigh then follow…you would sigh…you weren't sighing. I turned around, a confused look on my face and noted you were talking to a girl. A scantily dressed girl.

This was new.

This I did not like.

She batted her eyelashes, lightly hitting your chest. I cringed. You smirked, just as always.

That made me sick.

You nodded, but made an excuse for her to leave, "I need ta get back ta sellin'." you said.

A part of me hoped that "selling" meant following me. I wanted to slap that part in the face.

I made a decision to walk over to you; strike one.

"Spare a paper?" I smiled.

You turned and smirked. My knees wobbled, but I covered it nicely, you'd never be the wiser.

You handed me the paper and winked, "I tell you what, you'se can have this paper free."

"Okay." I reached for it, trying to seem detached.

You pulled it away, shaking your head, "If you'se meet me later, at the pub."

"That's not worth one paper." I laughed

"Oh yeah? What is?"

I smirked, and looked around in thought, "A pat on the back and a 'Good job, kid!'."

You glared. I grabbed my paper, handing you a penny. "Bye Spot."

Later, I decided to take up your offer. Dressed in my best attire, I waltzed into the pub. There you sat, alone at a table in the corner. You held the ever present cold glare. Classic Spot Conlon. You fiddled with your cane, and sipped your beer.

"Whatta ya know." I laughed, "I showed up."

You looked up, I swore there was a glimpse of joy in your eyes. That quickly dispersed, "What changed your mind?"

"I don't know." I sighed, "Perhaps the pathetic look in your eyes. Or the way you follow me around like a lost puppy."

You didn't find that nearly as comical as I did.

"Or maybe I wanted to see you."

What? Well then, there you have it; strike two.

"Yeah? What if I didn't want to see you?" you spat.

Oh no, little boy. Not happening. "Then you, Spot, wouldn't be constantly following me." I glared, "And, you wouldn't have thought to invite me here. Even if I did turn it down."

He scowled.

"Drop the act, Conlon." I groaned, "The fact that I hate you makes you crazy."

"You hate me? Then why are you here?"

Why am I here? Why am I here? Damn; strike three, I'm out.

I stood and turned on my heel.

For the longest time, I thought I could ignore you. I was stronger, smarter.

I wasn't smarter. I wasn't stronger. I did, however, have you under my skin.

And you weren't leaving.

For once, I was wrong.

I was the street rat whore. I was the girl fighting for your attention. The good part, I had it. I trapped you. I wrapped you around my finger.

I won. The competitor, Spot Conlon.