Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious.
Summary: "God, Trina, you're weird," he says with a smile. Her heart flutters, and she curses herself for it. With loads of expletives. BeckTrina, oneshot
Okay, this goes completely against my BeckJade tendencies, but Trina's pretty much awesome and she deserves some love. Just saying. I really like the idea of her crushing on Beck. Because really, who wouldn't? Haha. Anyway, I really hope that y'all enjoy this little fic of mine! Thanks so much for reading!
Just a Shot Away From Madness
She knows better.
She really, really does.
Trina Vega tells herself this, but she knows she doesn't actually follow her own advice. She ignores it vehemently. It is next to impossible that she would be able to listen to her conscious. She doesn't want to have this little feeling in her chest, the strangle niggling at her heartstrings that tells her, "You want him."
But she does.
And she wants to punch things.
A lot.
Sure, he's attractive - and not just attractive. Smoking. Hot. The most beautiful boy at the school, with his perfect hair and his impossibly nonchalant attitude. With the girlfriend that likes to kick puppies and punch children. The girlfriend who he's in love with.
A pretty boy who doesn't take advantage of his girlfriend? Yeah, those are hard to come by.
A pretty boy who is actually in love with his girlfriend? Yeah, even harder.
Beck Oliver is, pretty much, perfect.
Okay, scratch the pretty much part. He is just simply perfect. No pretty much or any other words that could decrease his value. He just is.
Trina knows she's sounding like one of those pathetic, love struck girls that crowd around him until Jade stabs one with her trusty giganto-scissors, but when has Trina ever admitted to not being one of those pathetic, love struck girls?
She just doesn't get caught.
Her complete and utter doglike devotion to Beck has never been more apparent than now.
"I said get lost, Sinjin!" she says.
"But…but, Trina!" he croons. And she thinks that maybe he has a bit of a devotion to her. "I just want to know - is Jade seeing anyone?"
"You will be seeing my fist in your face if you don't back off!"
"But Beck - "
"What about Beck?" she asks, bristling. "What about him?"
Sinjin stiffens, looking almost like an electrocuted praying mantis. If that was even possible. "He - ah - uh - you know…he…his relationship status on The Slap says…"
"That he's back with Jade. Her status says the same." She doesn't know why, but this bothers her. "Why are you even asking me this?"
Sinjin pauses for a moment and then says blunting, "My journal. I need to get my facts right."
"Your journal," she drawls skeptically.
"Yes. And the facts page on you isn't up-to-date, either. Are you seeing anyone?"
She pales, "A therapist. Right now."
Trina ignores Sinjin's shouts at her to come back and I still need to ask about what you use on your hair.
She shudders; she really should see to getting that therapist.
Trina rounds the corner, making sure to look like she's working it from every angle. That was one of the reasons she got up so incredibly freakin' early every morning. She needed time to exfoliate, time to put on her makeup so it was perfect, needed time to choose the most Trina-rific outfit for the day.
And, suddenly, she's not working it so much.
She rams head-on into a hard, solid object. She screams, lets out a few choice curse words, and smacks whatever it was that had the indecency to block her way.
"Oof!" a rather familiar voice exclaims.
Trina pauses.
And stares.
Oh no.
Her heart is suddenly going ninety-to-nothing in the span of two seconds. She knows exactly what is happening, but she can't help but spontaneously thinking, in a moment of melodramatic panic, that, I'm too young to have a heart attack! Too pretty to die!
Beck Oliver laughs at her.
She had just smacked him. In the chest. In his gloriously sculpted, Adonis-eat-your-heart-out, chest. And he's laughing.
Trina, who normally has no shame whatsoever, has the state of mind to flush and start stuttering. She stares up at him - had he always been this tall? Of course he has, you idiot! - and the at the expanse of black sweater that covers his chest. The very same chest that she had just smacked with her pretty, dainty, manicured hands.
She catches herself, then, saying, "Geez, Oliver. Watch where you're going!"
Beck scoffs, unruffled. As always. Makes her want to scrape her hands through his hair, and not for the usual reasons. "You were the one pretending to be J-Lo, Trina."
"Psh," she scoffs, "I ain't pretending, boy. We're like sisters." And she snaps.
She thinks at that moment that Beck might just roll his eyes and walk off, like Tori's group of friends always do, but he then does something completely unexpected.
"God, Trina, you're weird," he says with a smile. Her heart flutters, and she curses herself for it. With loads of expletives.
She's not sure why, but her body is reacting to his comment with such fury that she's shocked for a moment.
He stares at her for a moment before adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. She doesn't believe she's ever met a cooler customer than him. Rolling his neck, he then sighs and looks at her again, "You owe me."
She finds that she is the one staring at him now. "…how?"
"Well," he starts, "I could tell Jade that you completely - "
"Okay, okay," she protests, holding her hands up as if in surrender. "No need to call Jade." A feeble, nervous laugh escapes her lips.
"Coffee?" he asks, though there is an underlying tone that makes it seem like there is no room for an answer. "Bring it to me in a bit?"
Trina sighs. He has such pretty eyes. How could she resist? Not to mention that she assaulted him…
"Fine," she relinquishes. "Black?"
"You know how I take my coffee?" He is amused.
She finds herself staring at her shoes.
Trina only looks up when he presses a palm to her shoulder. He's staring down at her with a strangely soft look, one that she is unused to coming from anyone. She gives him a light smile and sighs, "Beck Oliver, you have evil, manipulative ways."
He flicks her nose, gently, in response to that. "See you later, Vega." He starts to walk away. "And thanks for the coffee," he calls.
She watches him go, a scowl on her face and her heart thudding dangerously in her chest.
Pursing her lips at the unexpected biological reaction to him, she turns on a heel and heads to get Beck his coffee.
Sighing, with her heart hammering away and her pulse racing, she finds herself trying to steer her thoughts away from Beck Oliver's name dancing in her mind by thinking one very simple thing, so simple that that she was shocked no one had called him out on it before.
Who drinks their coffee black, anyway? Her nose wrinkles. Gross.
End.