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The Beautiful Ones	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 1682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
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- 18
AN:I got my first math test back today. 22/24! Wewt. I have my second one on Tuesday, along with another test. Wish me luck!

“Cassandra?” a sharp voice snapped her out of the restless sleep she was having. Cassandra sat up, aware of the goose bumps that had spread across her skin. She shivered as she squinted through the t-shirt taped over her window. There wasn’t even any daylight yet.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” she demanded.

“Why are you sleeping here?” Criss’s head poked in, and Cassandra felt her face turning red. Even though she was fully dressed, there was something that felt way too intimate about him seeing her first thing in the morning like this. Her hands went to her hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

“Um,” she scrambled. But really, how does one come up with a reasonable explanation for sleeping in a car with no windows? Somehow she didn’t think the “my apartment is being fumigated” story was going to work on Criss.

“Cassandra Gabrielle! Is this where you live?” he sounded astonished. Her blue eyes slid around, trying to find anything to focus on other than his face. She didn’t think the “my apartment is being fumigated” story was going to fly with him.

“Sort of,” she mumbled, looking down at the stuffed bunny in her arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Criss’s face turned white and then red. “I would have---.”

“Not hired me.” Cassandra finished for him in a low voice. “Face it Criss, you wouldn’t have hired a homeless girl.”

Criss stared at her for a second. The back of his neck grew hot as he realized that she was right. He would have found her work somewhere, but he certainly wouldn’t have hired her. There was quiet for a few minutes as he took in the look on her face. Their eyes met, and he felt that spark of electricity as it ran down his spine.

“Where did the windows go?”

“Someone wanted my radio, and the doors were locked. So I have no more windows.” She covered her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“You can’t stay in here, Cassandra.” He pulled down some of the clothes. “Get a change for tomorrow and then come with me.”

“But--,”

“Cass.” His voice was both stern and kind. “I am not leaving you here for the night. There’s too much that could happen to you. Get out of the car.”

She obeyed; clutching Stanley and a change of clothes that she hoped (but doubted) were clean. Criss put his hand on the back of her neck and gave a comforting squeeze as they walked out of the parking lot. In a way, it made her feel both secure and angry.

She was not a child. She did not need someone to direct her where to go. But oh, how she longed to have someone else worry about her. Just for a moment anyway. They walked the block to the Luxor.

Criss glanced down at the girl. He took in the dark marks under her eyes, the way she clutched the bunny tightly, the fear that glimmered in her every expression. She glanced up at him in a way that conveyed both wariness and a sense of gratitude. His heart broke.
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