I languidly crossed the dark empty stage, my high heels tapping a
staccato beat against the highly polished wood. It was rehearsal for our
new routine that we would present tonight, and I was unimaginably tired as
I tried unsuccessfully to stifle a huge yawn. My whole body felt horribly
run down, like my head was filled with a writhing thick white fog. "Come on
now cherry," said Harrison somewhere from my above right standing on the
velvet brocade balcony, "we have to get this done." I grimaced. HE had
gotten a good night's sleep. It's not MY fault I had gotten stuck with an
overly enthusiastic costumer last night. I groaned and stepped behind the
crimson and yellow curtains. The heavy, seductive percussion beat of our
new song, "I'm a Slave For You" started at an amazingly loud volume. There
was a jungle theme to the song, and the costume designers were working
overtime to get the clothes finished. I sauntered onstage, swinging my hips
in time to the overly loud music. Most of the dance hall was empty because
almost all of the girls were in the number.
I started to purr out the lyrics in what I hoped was a sultry voice, stumbling a little as I tried to go through the complicated dance steps. This WAS NOT fun. I made myself imagine that the Moulin Rouge was filled with catcalling potential costumers, that all of the bright neon lights were lit and shining down on me in a hot, filtered haze. But all I saw in the smoke clouded room was a single black silhouette perched on the edge of a low wooden chair in the corner, a familiar sketchbook hiding his features…. I approached the edge of the high stage. This was the ever so fun portion of the show where I got to ruthlessly taunt the men luckiest to be the closest to me. But my eyes were still focused on the dark outline of the person in the shadowy corner, and with a shot of surprise and anger I realized who it was.
It was the idiot Nicholas! How DARE he stalk me like some, some, drooling schoolboy?! I have to admit that, as upset as I was, in some deep, repressed corner of my dusty mind I was strangely happy to see him there. He still looked hot, even from a distance… But at this particular moment I was angry. Very angry. I was still looking at him, giving him the best I'll- kill-you-at-some-not-so-very-distant-time glare, and wasn't watching where my feet were going. So I made the very big mistake of stepping onto…nothing. I toppled off the edge of the stage, my hands flailing in the air, and landed in a very painful heap on the hard cold floor. Ow! My last coherent thought was 'Wow Velvete, could have been any MORE stupid?' before I passed out.
~*~
Blackness enveloped me in a warm embrace. It was like I was falling through a wispy cloud of unconsciousness, my body floating in the thick, soft air. It was blissful, like leaving every dark worry that fed parasitically on your existence just…die. Ha. Should have known it wouldn't last long. My first thought of awareness was that it hurt uncomfortably much. But my second was that of security. I felt…good. Safe. Loved. Pulling open my eyes, (it felt like tiny weights had been tattooed on my eyelids), I found myself in a bright, well-lit, familiar room. My dressing room, seemingly. I tried to sit up, but a tearing spurt of pain from my ribcage immediately put any movement out of the question. Well, at least I knew what hurt. I turned my aching head toward the left to see none other than Nicholas sitting beside me. WHAT? I was going to KILL Harrison when I saw him next. WHY did he leave me alone with this, this, THING? I was going to kill him. It was that simple. Harrison would be dead.
"Velvete?" he ventured, looking at my face that was rapidly clouding over with a storm of scowls. "Are you all right?" I knew he was really genuinely concerned. I could see it in those beautiful golden brown eyes of his – NO! Must not think like that. But, I was stupid. I always am.
"Does it LOOK like I'm ok?" I hissed. In my defense, my ribs really, really hurt. "I toppled off the stage in front of you, most likely broke a couple of my ribs, am in HORRIBLE pain, AND, to top it all off, stuck in here, immobile, with you." I finished. I kind of regretted my outburst as I saw the hurt seep into his features. But, in the end, it was all for his own good. Wasn't it?
"Fine. Sorry I even asked." He huffed, turning back to the sketchpad that had seemed to become a third arm to him. I mean, he carried it around everywhere. I bit my lip, indecisive at what to say. Everything that came out of my mouth seemed to be the wrong thing. I knew in my heart that I was really just pretending to hate him. I really didn't. In fact, quite the opposite. Why couldn't I say something RIGHT once in a while? Finally,
"Where's Harrison?" I asked, trying to keep my tone of voice on the 'friendly' side. He glanced up briefly.
"Getting the doctor. He asked me to stay with you while he was gone." He said shortly, going back, once again, to his drawing. I racked my brain at what to say. I HATED long awkward silences. I didn't like this bad feeling between us. It had been this way for about a week and half, ever since our confrontation in the hall. No matter how many times, in how many ways I tried to deny it, there was something between us. I hated and I loved him. Tough decision. All right, time to make up I guess.
"Nicholas?" I said softly, toying with the fringe on the blanket over me. Come on Velvete, just spit it out. "I-I'm sorry." He looked up, slightly surprised.
"What?" he said innocently.
"I said I'm sorry." I repeated, a little louder.
"For…?" Was he going to do this the hard way? He was so IRRITATING! But I guess I deserved it.
"For being so stupid. For arguing over stupid things. For pushing you away for stupid reasons." Wow, stupid was a dominating word in my vocabulary. He seemed to accept my answer with a nod and went back to his sketch. What? Was that IT? Just a NOD? I frowned.
"Umm, so, aren't you going to say something?" I asked. He looked up again.
"No." he answered simply. He threw down his sketchpad and leaned over, his face so close to mine I could feel his warm breath brush against my skin. "I'm going to kiss you." And, true to his word, he crushed his lips against mine in a heavy, passionate kiss. Yep, totally corny, but when you kiss like he does you don't need witty dialogue. I smiled giddily. It looks like I finally said something right.
~*Author's Note*~ OMG sorry it took so long. Right. PLEASE REVIEW!!! ONCE AGAIN, I AM OBSESSED WITH THEM!! I LOVE THEM!!!! PLEASE!!! Ok then! ^_^ BYE!!!!
I started to purr out the lyrics in what I hoped was a sultry voice, stumbling a little as I tried to go through the complicated dance steps. This WAS NOT fun. I made myself imagine that the Moulin Rouge was filled with catcalling potential costumers, that all of the bright neon lights were lit and shining down on me in a hot, filtered haze. But all I saw in the smoke clouded room was a single black silhouette perched on the edge of a low wooden chair in the corner, a familiar sketchbook hiding his features…. I approached the edge of the high stage. This was the ever so fun portion of the show where I got to ruthlessly taunt the men luckiest to be the closest to me. But my eyes were still focused on the dark outline of the person in the shadowy corner, and with a shot of surprise and anger I realized who it was.
It was the idiot Nicholas! How DARE he stalk me like some, some, drooling schoolboy?! I have to admit that, as upset as I was, in some deep, repressed corner of my dusty mind I was strangely happy to see him there. He still looked hot, even from a distance… But at this particular moment I was angry. Very angry. I was still looking at him, giving him the best I'll- kill-you-at-some-not-so-very-distant-time glare, and wasn't watching where my feet were going. So I made the very big mistake of stepping onto…nothing. I toppled off the edge of the stage, my hands flailing in the air, and landed in a very painful heap on the hard cold floor. Ow! My last coherent thought was 'Wow Velvete, could have been any MORE stupid?' before I passed out.
~*~
Blackness enveloped me in a warm embrace. It was like I was falling through a wispy cloud of unconsciousness, my body floating in the thick, soft air. It was blissful, like leaving every dark worry that fed parasitically on your existence just…die. Ha. Should have known it wouldn't last long. My first thought of awareness was that it hurt uncomfortably much. But my second was that of security. I felt…good. Safe. Loved. Pulling open my eyes, (it felt like tiny weights had been tattooed on my eyelids), I found myself in a bright, well-lit, familiar room. My dressing room, seemingly. I tried to sit up, but a tearing spurt of pain from my ribcage immediately put any movement out of the question. Well, at least I knew what hurt. I turned my aching head toward the left to see none other than Nicholas sitting beside me. WHAT? I was going to KILL Harrison when I saw him next. WHY did he leave me alone with this, this, THING? I was going to kill him. It was that simple. Harrison would be dead.
"Velvete?" he ventured, looking at my face that was rapidly clouding over with a storm of scowls. "Are you all right?" I knew he was really genuinely concerned. I could see it in those beautiful golden brown eyes of his – NO! Must not think like that. But, I was stupid. I always am.
"Does it LOOK like I'm ok?" I hissed. In my defense, my ribs really, really hurt. "I toppled off the stage in front of you, most likely broke a couple of my ribs, am in HORRIBLE pain, AND, to top it all off, stuck in here, immobile, with you." I finished. I kind of regretted my outburst as I saw the hurt seep into his features. But, in the end, it was all for his own good. Wasn't it?
"Fine. Sorry I even asked." He huffed, turning back to the sketchpad that had seemed to become a third arm to him. I mean, he carried it around everywhere. I bit my lip, indecisive at what to say. Everything that came out of my mouth seemed to be the wrong thing. I knew in my heart that I was really just pretending to hate him. I really didn't. In fact, quite the opposite. Why couldn't I say something RIGHT once in a while? Finally,
"Where's Harrison?" I asked, trying to keep my tone of voice on the 'friendly' side. He glanced up briefly.
"Getting the doctor. He asked me to stay with you while he was gone." He said shortly, going back, once again, to his drawing. I racked my brain at what to say. I HATED long awkward silences. I didn't like this bad feeling between us. It had been this way for about a week and half, ever since our confrontation in the hall. No matter how many times, in how many ways I tried to deny it, there was something between us. I hated and I loved him. Tough decision. All right, time to make up I guess.
"Nicholas?" I said softly, toying with the fringe on the blanket over me. Come on Velvete, just spit it out. "I-I'm sorry." He looked up, slightly surprised.
"What?" he said innocently.
"I said I'm sorry." I repeated, a little louder.
"For…?" Was he going to do this the hard way? He was so IRRITATING! But I guess I deserved it.
"For being so stupid. For arguing over stupid things. For pushing you away for stupid reasons." Wow, stupid was a dominating word in my vocabulary. He seemed to accept my answer with a nod and went back to his sketch. What? Was that IT? Just a NOD? I frowned.
"Umm, so, aren't you going to say something?" I asked. He looked up again.
"No." he answered simply. He threw down his sketchpad and leaned over, his face so close to mine I could feel his warm breath brush against my skin. "I'm going to kiss you." And, true to his word, he crushed his lips against mine in a heavy, passionate kiss. Yep, totally corny, but when you kiss like he does you don't need witty dialogue. I smiled giddily. It looks like I finally said something right.
~*Author's Note*~ OMG sorry it took so long. Right. PLEASE REVIEW!!! ONCE AGAIN, I AM OBSESSED WITH THEM!! I LOVE THEM!!!! PLEASE!!! Ok then! ^_^ BYE!!!!