Flipping Coins

It’s wrong to fall in love (or technically lust) with someone else’s boyfriend. It really is. That is someone else’s partner in crime, and you are violating strict lines set for those two’s future. It’s either this case, or you’re just a complete slut.

But, honestly, I couldn’t help it.

Call me a wrong-doer, call me a selfish slut, but, goddammit, I saw him first! Doesn’t that count for something?

If I said I was in love (A.K.A lust) with Brendon Boyd Urie before, then I was lying. I know what it feels like now. There’s nothing that can compare to how I feel when he looks at me, when he talks to me, when he touches me. Nothing.

Like the way he was looking at me now.

He wasn’t watching my batter-painted hands as they stirred a tub filled with the thick substance, he wasn’t examining the less-than appealing outfit I had thrown on, he wasn’t even studying my destructive apartment that looked as though a herd of Tasmanian Devils had visited my humble abode. No, ladies and gentlemen, he was looking at me.

As I babbled on and on about some random topic that was highly irrelevant to anything logical or serious, his eyes followed my every move. Our eyes were glued to each others, never lingering off to examine something more interesting. It was like we were afraid to look away. Like if we were to move our line of visions elsewhere, we would wake up to find that this was all a dream.

At least, that’s what I felt.

“Uhh, Emie,” Brendon suddenly interrupted my illogical story. “Your pancakes are burning.”

Peering down, I let out a half-screech and half-groan. “Dammit!”

The circles of batter were beginning to give off short wisps of smoke along the edges, and the strong smell of burning could be detected. When I turned the pancakes over, the entire side was crusted black.

I turned off the stove and slammed my hands down against the counter. Tucking my head underneath my arms, I whined, “And that was the last of the pancake batter, too.”

Brendon let out one of those genuine Urie-chuckles and padded my back in comfort. “It’s okay, Em. We can just go to the I-Hop down the road.”

I sniffled. “But, as your host, it’s mandatory for me to make you a home-made meal.”

“We’ve still got lunch and dinner to rely on,” Brendon brought out. “Come on, Emie. I know you feel bad, but I’m damn-near starving. If I don’t eat in less then ten minutes, you won’t even want to be within a two-foot radius of me. And that is not a joke.”

After a second of consideration, I straightened up. Then, in an unpredictable flash, I made a run for it. Over my shoulder, I called, “Last one there is buying!”

X…………..X

“She’s just plain stupid. I swear, if I saw a shadow lurking underneath my bedroom door while I’m home alone, I wouldn’t just barge in there ready to scream bloody murder.”

When there was no response, I asked, “Brendon? You awake?”

This time there was a response: a long, drawn-out snore.

Sighing, I slowly rose to my feet and turned to view the damage.

Brendon was curled up on the other side of the Tickle-Resistant Pillow Barrier I had built, dead asleep.

After shutting off When a Stranger Calls, I snatched up a blanket and begin to cover the dozing Brendon with it. I gently shut Brendon’s ajar mouth, trying to prevent drool from leaking onto my furniture. Then, shoving on my house slippers, I shuffled to the hallway.

I was about two paces away from the bedroom, when a faint voice called, “Emie!”

Instantly, adrenaline shot through my veins. I mean, after just watching a significantly tense movie, you would probably jump to conclusions too. A second later, my brain reminded me that I had a best friend/rock star spending the night in my house.

So, with assurance, I shuffled back to my tiny living room, stopping at the end of the loveseat Brendon was designated on.

I could see his sleepy eyes fix on me, and his perfected teeth gleamed with a grin through the darkness. His voice was heavy with slumber as he asked, “Do you mind sleeping with me tonight?”

Did I mind sleeping with him? Umm, ye---hell no. If only God were too kind....

But I played it cool by crossing my arms and snidely remarking, “What would Evelia do if she heard you right now?”

Brendon’s grin doubled in size. “She wouldn’t hesitate to oblige, unlike someone I know.”

Rolling my eyes with a petite smile on my face, I uncrossed my arms and huffed, “Fine. But I’m only doing it for the welfare of my body temperature.” Yeah right. I felt hotter than ever.

Brendon beamed cheekily and happily flipped the blanket up, scooting back to make room for me. I slid in next to him, and then he enveloped us back up into the warmness of the blanket.

I was awkwardly facing him, and there was no way to not be making body contact in some way. Our faces were so close that not only could I smell his sweet breath; I could feel it. His arm was clung around my waist, and I swear I could have kissed him right then and there.

But then I thought of Evelia.

Before I could get too depressed about Brendon’s beyond-perfected girlfriend, Brendon suddenly whispered, “Thank you.”

I tried not to linger on the sweet of aroma of spearmint that spewed from his mouth when he whispered those words and, instead, swallowed my hormones.

“For what?” I quietly asked.

“For today,” Brendon answered, his voice still as low as ever. “It was the best day I’ve had in…gosh, forever.”

I smiled. “Same here.”

A comfortable silence fell around us, and I didn’t realize it, but I was falling asleep. I thought Brendon was asleep too, but his weak words proved me wrong.

“Goodnight, Emie.”

My eyelids fluttered closed for the final time as I whispered back, “Goodnight Brendon.”