In This Starless City

Another AMAZING banner by Toriii! You should probably go read her stories. They'll make you smile really big; I promise..

We arrived at the hotel and I darted out of the crowded cab before it had even come to a complete halt. I wasn't clinically diagnosed with claustrophobia, but I did enjoy my space and I had realized that was probably the one and only thing I knew that taxi cabs did not have the luxury of aside from smelling decent.

"What time is it?" I muse, welcoming anybody that felt the need to answer me to do so.

Nathan grunted as he lifted his guitar case out of the trunk of the cab. "I think it's a little after three o'clock," he guessed, helping Oliver with his instrument and then handing me my bass. Brandon already had his drum sticks in his hands again and was tapping on the window of the cab as he waited for us to get all of our belongings out of the taxi.

Oliver slammed the trunk of the cab shut. "What are we going to do for the next three hours? We don't have to meet our tour manager until six, right?"

I shrugged as I paid the cab driver through the window, turning back around and following the boys into the hotel and toward the front desk. Of course, having noticed the young, attractive woman behind the counter, Oliver and Brandon both bolted toward the desk, leaving me and Nathan rolling our eyes but laughing nonetheless.

Finally, probably a half hour later, Brandon got the keycard from the young woman and turned around, flicking a piece of paper between his fingers. "Got her number," he says smugly, walking past Nathan and me and toward the elevators.

We pressed the up button and waited for the elevator to arrive and just as the shiny steel doors opened, Oliver bounded up behind us, smiling from ear to ear. I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why so smiley?" I inquire.

Oliver held up two fingers with two pieces of paper between them. "I got her picture and her number," he beams, causing Brandon's jaw to drop as he went to snatch the paper from Oliver's grasp, but Oliver slipped the notes in his back pocket.

"Anyway," I say, eager to change the subject from potential one night stands to something that we could all take interest in. "Maybe we could go find a mall or something to pass the time until we have to go meet our manager."

I should've anticipated the reaction that received: scoffs and eye rolls.

"We just got into L.A. and the first thing on your mind is shopping?" Oliver asks as we stepped out of the elevator and made our way toward our room together. "How original, Char."

I looked at him. "I never said I wanted to go shopping," I clarify, "I was merely suggesting it." The boys around all murmured their doubt and I tossed my arms in the air in frustration. "Okay, what do you guys want to do? I'm not hearing any ideas from all of you."

None of the boys answered me and I decided to let the subject drop before they had the bright plan of going to a strip club or something like that. We found our room and I snatched the keycard from Oliver before he slid it into the slot, smirking at his objections as I felt Brandon and Nathan huddle closer to me and the door.

The green light flashed and I hesitated slightly before plowing through the door and darting toward the beds, rapid footsteps behind me. Of course, my being smallest, lightest, and faster, I made it to a bed first, throwing myself on top of it.

"Dibs!" I sing at the top of my lungs, smiling when the three boys tripped over themselves to get to the second bed.

We had a general rule as a band not to share beds. We had realized long ago that we being hormone deranged teenagers would result in mistakes if we were to share a sleeping apparatus. It could only result in hurt feelings, ruined friendships, and possibly a broken up band, and none of us wanted that. We were all too close of friends to be anything more anyway, and we were all okay with that too.

"Ha! Now be the good little bitch that you are and find a nice piece of carpet!" Brandon laughs at Oliver, who after losing the second bed to Nathan, had just lost the fold-out couch as well. Swearing at the ceiling, he rolled off of the sofa and walked back into the bedroom, hopping onto my bed beside me after I had placed my bass and suitcases on the floor.

Brandon skipped into the room, smiling gloriously at Oliver who flipped him off in reply, and sat down on the edge of Nathan's bed, sighing contentedly before looking around at each of us. "Now what?"

Rolling my eyes, I turning and unzipped one of my suitcases, pulling out a change of clothes before walking to the bathroom. I pulled off my hoodie, my shirt, and kicked off my sweatpants before sliding into some jeans and a yellow fitted tee. I pulled my dirty old Chucks back onto my feet before walking out of the bathroom and heading toward the door of the hotel room.

"Hey, where're you headed off to?" Brandon asks, the springs in the bed squeaking, signaling that he was sitting up and looking at me curiously.

"We're in Las Angelas, California, sitting in a hotel room, debating on what to do with our time until we meet with our tour manager," I state as I slipped one of the hotel keys into my pocket. "I'm going to find something to do for three hours and I will meet up with all of you later."

I didn't want to give them time to argue with my erratic decision so I quickly slipped out of the hotel room and walked lightly to the elevators, pressing the down arrow and waiting patiently. I had been waiting for about ten seconds when I noticed that I was no longer alone in the hallway. A boy that was slightly taller than me with straight, dark brown hair and matching eyes was standing next to me. I only noticed him because I could feel his eyes on me and sure enough, when I turned to look at him, his eyes snapped up to my face, away from the contours of my body.

"Can I help you?" I ask, trying to sugarcoat my annoyance.

"What?" the boy asked guiltlessly, but I only stared at him flatly, waiting for an explanation. "Oh, sorry. I just noticed your outfit and I just….uh…" he trailed off, gesturing toward my torso and, to my slight detest, my lower body.

"You were checking me out," I guessed as the elevator arrived and I stepped onto the threshold, turning to look at his confounded expression.

"No, I wasn't—…" he said as he stepped into the elevator with me and I pressed the small, circular button next to the number one.

"Okay, you were thinking of what I might be like in the sack," I cut him off, quirking an eyebrow at him and I could feel how piercing my green-eyed gaze was. Again though, he seemed genuinely shocked at my accusation.

"You know, I'm not—…"

This time, I turned and faced him, fixing him with a hard look. "So, you were doing all of the above while at the same time, thinking of some cheesy catch phrase to toss my way in order to win me over." I smirked when his confident veneer melted into one of offense.

"How can you just automatically assume that I am such a promiscuous person?" he asks, his anger ringing in his tone like church bells.

"Because I'm female, I'm intelligent, and I know that guys in this starless city are looking for one thing and let me tell you that that 'one thing' is certainly not in this elevator for you," the doors of the lift slid open and with one more victorious and albeit cruel smile, I walked forward a few steps, leaving him to stare after me, slack jawed. Then, I turned at looked at him again. "Oh, and by the way, my clothes look way better on me than they ever would on the floor by the foot of your bed."

In response, his eyes nearly doubled in size and before the door had completely shut, I smiled sweetly at the boy and waved then turned and walked out of the hotel.

Now, you may be thinking that that was completely uncalled for and now, thanks to my wit and cynicism, that boy is going to go home and sob himself to sleep while pledging vainly against women for the rest of his life.

And that all may happen, but I was a girl with morals, composure, and respect and it was in my blood to be a bit of an unnecessary smart ass at times. But he was asking for it, if you asked me, which made what I did and said fair play, and which also validated my right to not have a conscience when it came to the situation.

I am a guarded person, it was true, but in all reality, who isn't? if the occasion calls for it, I—along with almost every other person on the face of the earth—will put up walls and defend myself; no ands, ors, or buts about it.

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I got to an ice cream parlor downtown and walked inside, finding respite in the air conditioning and finally being able to get away from the blistering heat. Who would've known that Las Angelas could already be this scalding when it's only early June. Then again, for someone that from London and New York, this shouldn't be a surprise to anyone.

I looked at the menu and debated quietly to myself on what exactly I wanted. I was deciding between chocolate chip and cookie dough when the young adolescent boy behind the counter walked up to me and smiled, asking if I knew what I would like.

I returned the smile. "Not quite yet, thanks," I answer, looking back up at the menu and continuing to deliberate.

Then, there was a series of laughs, snorts, coughs, and chokes from behind me. I turned around to see three guys sitting at a table, stifling their laughter while glancing at me not so subtly.

Confused, I was interrupted in my plans to go over to the table and demand what those boys' deals were when the boy behind the counter cleared his throat, urging me to order before the line of people behind me got too long.

Hastily, I made a decision. "I'll have a small cup of chocolate chip,"

I waited for my ice cream, trying to keep patient, thought the unyielding laughter from the boys at that tables was proving my mission to be rater difficult.

Finally, I got my sugary treat, paid, and made toward a table by a window on the other side of that parlor, determined not to sit near those asses.

Unfortunately, the hand life dealt me was not as sweet as I had hoped.

"Hey," I male voice carried across the room and I grimaced as I ate my ice cream. "hey, miss, can you come over here? We want to talk with you."

Annoyed, I raised one solitary hand with on solitary finger at full salute. The table of boys hooted and hollered and continued to laugh and I tried to focus more on my ice cream or the people walking around outside than them.

Then, to my shock, a body plopped down in the seat across from me, causing me to look up and stare at a dark haired boy with bright brown eyes.

"That's not very nice, you know," the boy says, smiling thought big lips.

"Neither is making fun of someone you've never even met," I snipe in return, fixing the boy with a level stare.

He shook his head suddenly. "Oh no, no, we weren't making fun of you," he says quickly and I gave him a condescending glare. He sighed, a faint smile still on his lips. "It's just that we had overheard your accent when you were up at the counter and not two seconds before you came inside, dumb shit over there," he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, "was doing a very shitty English impression, and well, we were laughing at him and then you happened to walk in and," he shrugged, seemingly innocent. "I guess it was the irony."

I looked at him. "Your intricacy needs a little work," I say flatly as I placed licked the ice cream off of my spoon.

The boy laughed quietly before reaching a hand over the table. "I'm Brendon Urie," he says.

I reached a hand over the table too and grasped his, shaking it twice. "I'm Charlotte Connery,"

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "How long have you been in Las Angelas?" he asks and I looked at him curiously. "I can only assume that a girl with an English accent wasn't born here."

I smiled and gave a small nod, spooning another scoop of ice cream into my mouth. "I got here earlier today actually,"

"Really? You're not from here?"

"Nope," I reply. "I represent the east coast: New York City." I made an attempt to make gangster signs with my hands, causing Brendon to laugh and shake his head.

"No one should really ever try to be gangster," he says with a soft chuckle and I laughed. "Unless you're totally up to beat with events on the street, diggity dog."

"I can only assume that you're not after that," I say, finishing off my ice cream and tossing the empty carton into the trash bin behind me. When I turned around, Brendon was leaning over the table, looking at me.

He smiled and opened his mouth, about to say something, but was cut off when the other boys at his table hollered something at him. He excused himself from my table and walked back over to his, sitting down and talking to the other boys there. I sat back in my chair and waited to see if he would return, and then my cell phone vibrated in my phone.

I flipped it open to see that I had a new text message and when I opened it, I saw that it was from Jack.

Please come and party with my friends and me tonight. I promise not to try and get you drunk.

I laughed as I pressed reply and crafted my own message.

Oh, too bad. I was looking for someone to get drunk with, but since you're not interested…

I pressed send and smirked, closing my phone and sliding it into my pocket.