V. FORTNIGHT

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She stared at the white lines cut up on the mirror sitting atop the toilet paper dispenser. Legs shaking. Tights ripped. An arm came up to swipe away the white residue, a sniffle breathing the rest in. Almost a year had gone by since Julian had graced her presence, but his face was all over her TV. Stella Cobain had become an infamous name in the tabloid press, an even bigger name in the new sleaze scene. Every night had become a Bal de Moulin Rouge, slurs of drinks and drugs and partying. Careless hedonism at the tip of her fingers, welding into a whirl of pleasure. Flashes followed her around as her attendance dropped. To many it had seemed her days as patron saint of Chelsea were over and her new reign of the Lower East Side had taken full effect. Seen on the belt of every rockstar and on the page of every "IT girl" edit in the latest magazines. It seemed that maybe, Stella had grown to overshadow the elusive shadow Julian had left on her.


"Hurry Up!" a voice called, banging on the stall door. Four walls of a coffin, "Going!". Swinging the door open, the walk back to the dancefloor was a blur, souls seemingly rushing past like trains on the subway. Sweat breaking out on her scalp and dripping down her reddening face. Faces disappearing into darkness under strobe lights. "Hey." She chuckled, eyes darting as she walked back to some skinny face, she couldn't quite place a name on despite hanging with him all night. The rockstar was too busy to care, turning back to his conversation with his arm around her swaying body. As those jittery orbs traced around the spinning room, they came to a halt on a familiar face.


"Julian?" before her mind could process, her feet were already halfway down the floor and pushing through the warm bodies until she grasped onto his leather jacket. Cautiously, he spun around, his face studying hers before coming aglow with the realization of who it was. "Look who it is...Miss Sleaze." He smirked, hand on his hip. Attention was torn from the girl fawning over him just a second ago. Stella stood in complete silence, partly drug fueled, partly shock. "Here with another one of my archetypes, I suppose." He chuckled briefly before gently tapping her cheek, "You okay, dollface?". Stella wasn't sure what to feel. On one hand, Julian had ghosted her, left her life shaken up after their brief encounters. On the other hand, she had missed him more than she could admit. Seeing his face on the tv or at the record store made her stomach hurt, it made her want to bolt. That all familiar body ache that yearned to be swept right into the cyclone behind those sunken eyes. "Hello Julian," she said promptly, "Long time no see..." Her snarky tone not lost on him as he nodded amusedly. "Yeah, It has been a while. What have you been up to? Looks like you're quite the show these days." She nodded arrogantly, missing his condescension. "Mhm, yeah, I am. I'm the best show in all of New York."


Her arms crossed over her chest, pulling down the cleavage of her dress a bit. He would never say it out loud, but he missed her too and damn did she look good. The new title of minx made her ten times more intriguing than the sheltered girl she had been when they first met. Stella was new and improved; Julian was lying if he said he didn't want a taste. His eyes raked up and down her frame. Mind at a thousand miles per hour. Chemistry and lust bubbling over. "So, I've heard. Still like The Strokes?" he chuckled, mirroring her pose. Letting out an annoyed huff, she dropped her arms, "I prefer other bands." Stella was a challenge Julian was always up to. He stepped closer, "Well I could always change your mind. You should come back to mines; I could show you the new album we're working on." Her chest grew warm at the idea of being alone together after so long especially with the sweet sound of his suggestive voice. So warm in fact it might have sobered her up. His arm snaked onto her waist, tugging her closer. She hesitated for a second, his scent filling her nostrils. God, he looks good, she thought to herself. Needy eyes boring into his as if asking to be saved, insides turning into liquid honey flowing through her system.


"I think we'll have to leave that interview for later, Casablancas." She regained consciousness, remembering who stood before her. Clicking into her groupie mentality, she slid her own hand into his behind her back, dominating the situation with a kiss on his cheek. Despite her pounding chest she played it cool, whispering mere inches from his face, "See you around." A grin unfolded on his lips, amused at her newfound confidence as she walked off with a teasing smirk as if begging to be chased. He sighed as he watched her go, pants tight. If this was the high from the chase, he was sure to follow her all the way down.




A//N

sorry i haven't posted more!! other chapters coming soon

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