PTX Shots

Cliché [Kavi]

Avi Kaplan smiled as the flashes went off. The light from their cameras made him uncomfortable, but he eventually got used to it. He sighed when the cameramen went away, and mindlessly took a Brandy from the waiter as they walked by. The liquid burned his throat, hard enough to distract him from the crowd around him. This little Hollywood town was dirty, and so was almost every celebrity in it. Avi barely respected anyone in this scandalous world.

They kept crowding around him, and he felt disgusting. He sipped his drink again and glanced around the after party for the Oscars. Almost immediately, his green orbs caught a familiar petite figure standing alone. His lips subconsciously curled up to an amusing smirk. The long haired man walked pass the crowd, and in seconds he appeared across the room. The woman, who was watching him ever since he moved, grinned when she saw him next to her.

"Hey, stranger." She greeted. "Where are the fans? They’re always around our newest winner for the Best Soundtrack, aren't they?"

"Oh love, I told them to fuck off." He smiled. "The only one that interests me is you, Kirstin."

Kirstin chuckled quietly, took a sip from her Martini. "Keep your honey mouth for these bimbos, Avriel. I'm not up for the party."

"For the one who won Best Actress for the third time, that's strange, but not too strange. Guess you get bored with luxury parties, don't you?" He asked. Staring at his glass for a while, Avi came up with an idea. "Well, as un-cliché as it is, I don't like to be here, either."

"Any suggestions?" The actress asked, finishing her drink.

"Yes, a crazy one. Wanna hear?"

She nodded, a little bit too fast. Avi smiled slyly as he leaned in closer, and whispered in her ear. "As cliché as it may sound, let's run away together."

He saw Kirstin raised an eyebrow hesitantly, and to be honest, he didn't expect her to say yes. But when he pulled away, the girl tapped his shoulder, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Count me in."

-

In some mysterious way, they successfully sneaked out of the party. Rushing to send a message for Esther about his absence, Avi lead Kirstie to his car. Both laughing a little too long, and a little too loud about some lame jokes about the Oscars. After they jumped into his jet black baby, Avi drove them to downtown L.A. This city never slept, and surely the downtown was more interesting than their scandalous uptown, then. Kirstie turned on the radio right when Crying in the Club came on. As Avi hummed to the beat, the actress started to sing wildly. He laughed at her hilarious expression but he had to admit, she had such an angel voice, which she rarely shared with anyone but him. He stopped his car at a parking lot along the road, took off his seatbelt, and walked to her side to open the door for her.

"Such a gentleman." Kirstie said playfully, as she took his hand. They slowly walked down the street, lightly swinging them back and forth, their hips bumped. "We’ll get in trouble if paparazzi see us, right?"

"Right."

She put a finger on her chin, acted like she was thinking carefully. A second later she pouted slightly, and linked their hands again. "Screw them. Let's enjoy the night."

"Why not?" Avi chuckled, and he noticed a nearby street vendor. "Want some ice cream?"

"At 11 p.m? Fuck yeah."

Pulled out his wallet, he winked. "That's my girl. The usual?"

"Please."

-

"And I ran away from his house, screaming. But I'm out anyway." Kirstie rambled, a bit tipsy. Her cheeks were tinted red by the alcohol she had consumed, and her vision was spinning slightly. She chugged the third shot down her throat and reached for a fourth, but a man's hand stopped her.