The Young and Lost Club
008
“So then,” Brendon said excitedly. “He takes a drink right? And he doesn’t know about the hole and everything spills all over him in front of thousands of people! He dropped the f-bomb about 60 times and got us banned basically.” We both laughed hysterically.
Brendon had come to my work and brought me lunch, something he’d been in the habit of ever since the first date when I mentioned I didn’t eat lunch. In fact, Brendon and I had been seeing each other quite a bit lately. It was odd, but ever since our perfect first date, it was like we were addicted to one another. Calling each other constantly, dates nearly every night, and on the weekends, we’d literally spend all day together. I felt like we just got each other. He seemed to understand me more than anyone ever had before, and I knew this not because he said it, but because I understood him just as much as he did me. It was strange, like everything we told one another wasn’t a surprise, but rather came to us like we had known that all along.
I knew I was falling for him, and I also knew it was absolutely ridiculous of me to do so. I had only known him for two weeks, and he’d leave in about three, off to Las Vegas and then to tour, and I’d be stuck here in New York, still in my same old routine. Brendon and I couldn’t be, and yet, I was shoving all these doubts into the back of my head, because being around him made me feel happier and calmer than I had felt in a long time. And, honestly, I wasn’t ready to give that up yet.
I think he felt the same. He found ways to see me, like bringing me lunch, or inviting me to dinner, or skipping out on interviews (pissing off his band mates) to hang out with me instead. We made jokes about it, sometimes he’d call me his “illegal drug” or I’d hear Jon and Spencer make references to Brendon having to “get his fix” when he bailed on them to see me instead.
The only problem, and consequently the thing that destroyed my whole theory, was the fact that he hadn’t kissed me yet.
Instead, I got these maddening, lingering kisses on the cheek. Once he had gone as far as kissing me on the neck when he had hugged me goodnight. I was going crazy. I was worried he didn’t want to kiss me; I was worried I was misinterpreting the signs. Maybe he was afraid of investing too much into this as well; maybe he was going to be the strong one because I knew I couldn’t be. I didn’t know, I would only spend countless thoughtless hours wondering why he hadn’t yet, what was holding him back, maybe I wasn’t attractive enough for him, maybe he had someone else in mind. Maybe I was only someone to pass the time with; maybe I didn’t know him like I thought I did.
“So,” Brendon said as we both stopped laughing. He had been telling me about pranks that he and his band mates had pulled on one another as we ate sitting out in the back lot outside my building. “I have to admit, I have an ulterior motive for coming today. I have a favor to ask you.”
“Oh?” I said. “You didn’t want to see my pretty face?”
He grinned, and then leaned over to kiss my shoulder. “You know I’d never pass up a chance to see your gorgeous face,” he said seriously. “But…okay, well, Pete Wentz is in town this weekend…”
I groaned, having an idea of where this was going.
“And, you know Spencer and Jon can’t keep their mouths shut, so they kinda mentioned to him that you and I have been seeing each other…and so he wants you to come to dinner with us, on Friday night. And I know you don’t have a show,” He said quickly when I opened my mouth to talk, “So don’t use that excuse.”
I sighed. Pete Wentz was not my favorite person in the world, and Brendon knew so. The day I met him as a guest on Late Night, he basically harassed me and one of the other interns all day. It was harmless flirting, on his part, I suppose, but when you have a short temper like I do, it becomes incredibly annoying. And then it just becomes cruel when they won’t leave you alone even when you ask...no, beg them to stop. The day ended with me shouting some rather inappropriate things at him (which only seemed to increase his fondness for me), Steven giving me a huge raise and a couple vacation days, and the band sending me a formal apology about three days later. But one look at Brendon’s face and I really had no choice. “Okay, fine.” I said, with a sigh.
“What? Seriously? Just like that?” He said incredulously.
I shrugged. “If he tries anything, he’s a dead man, you tell him that.”
“You’re the best!” He said happily, throwing his arm around me and hugging me tightly.
“I’m doing it for you,” I reminded him. “You know I hate Wentz.”
He grinned again, lacing his fingers with mine, rubbing his thumb over my wrist. He glanced down at our clasped hands and asked shyly, “Is it bad that I like that you’re doing it for me?”
I laughed. “Nope.”
He smiled his blinding smile, and then leaned down to kiss the underside of my wrist. “Good.”
|||
On Friday night, I was regretting my decision to go so badly, I was considering breaking a limb to get out of it. Pete was taking us to some trendy and fancy restaurant on the Upper East Side, and quite frankly, I had nothing to wear.
…this is a lie. My apartment had two bedrooms. I used one as mine; the other was just for clothing. I had something to wear, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Brendon was running 5 minutes late, I was 20 behind, standing in my glorified closet in my underwear and a long t-shirt, silently freaking out.
I did not go out to dinner with celebrities. I did not hang out with celebrities. Work was different it was my job and I had an upper hand, usually. Brendon was different, because he was Brendon.
This was Pete Wentz, who was a celebrity. He was in tabloids, he was followed by paparazzi, and his life was in everyone’s face. And this fucking restaurant! Like all other trendy, expensive restaurants on the Upper East Side, it would be filled with the skinny, beautiful, tall, model girls who make you feel like shit, wore designer clothing and would judge you faster than the Supreme Court. I didn’t just hate places like that, I despised them.
The buzzer for my apartment rang, jerking me out of my miniature meltdown. “Hello?” I said, answering it.
“Hey kid, it’s me, you ready?”
“You might as well come up,” I said with a sigh, buzzing him in.
I didn’t stop to realize this would be the first time Brendon would be in my apartment. And I didn’t realize until I yanked open the door that I was barely wearing clothing.
“Hmm,” Brendon said, looking me up and down. “Now I like this outfit.”
“Bren, I can’t go, I can’t do this,” I blurted, ignoring him. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. Just tell him I…I don’t know. Tell him I died. Of swine flu.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brendon said with a laugh.
“It’s a pandemic!” I said. “He’ll totally buy it.”
“Besides, I already told him you were coming. And you can’t really say no to Pete.”
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “I can’t do this.”
“Clark,” Brendon said gently. “What’s wrong? It’s just us and Pete. You’ve met the guys and Pete loves you, you don’t need to be nervous.”
“I can’t hang out with celebrities. I’m not…whatever it is you need to be to be with famous people. And these restaurants! They’re awful! I’ve got nothing to wear that won’t make me look like I’m a wannabe groupie…and…”
“Okay, okay,” Brendon said, taking my face in his hands. “Listen to me. First off, stop thinking about it like you’re hanging out with celebrities, think of it as hanging out with friends. That’s all Pete is. Second off, you are cool enough to hang out with anyone you want, and if any one judges you it’s because they’re just jealous. And thirdly, I’m sure you have something to wear. You can wear a brown paper bag for all I care. You could even go naked. I certainly don’t mind.”
I gave out a dry laugh, and Brendon beamed at me. “See, there you go. Let’s go look for something alright?”
“Ok,” I said miserably.
He kissed my forehead and smiled even larger. “And cheer up, kid.”
“Ok.”
“I like your apartment,” He said, glancing around. “It’s very you.”
“Thank you.” I said, but he was already off, exploring the details of my living quarters, laughing at the various things I had lying about.
“Good god,” he said as he found his way to my “closet”. “And you said you have nothing to wear? Come here,” he held out his hand and I took it, as he led us into the room, and started digging through various piles of clothes.
“Try…this one? Oh and this one,” He tossed me a low cut blue dress, with a wink. “And…sparkles!!” He said happily, piling about 5 more on. “Scoot, scoot.”
|||
“No. Not this one” He said confidently as I walked out in the last dress, an unappealing silver thing. Brendon was sprawled out on my sofa, we should have left 15 minutes ago to meet the rest of our party, and we didn’t really care, seeing as we were having too much fun anyways with our impromptu fashion show. “Black sparkly dress was better. I’m voting black sparkly.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “Much better than that blue one.”
“I liked that one,” He said, pouting slightly.
“Yeah you did,” I said, laughing. “I could see your boner from here.”
He snorted. “Girl, where can’t you see my boner?”
“As long as you’re at the right angle.” I said, causing him to laugh, while I struggled with the zipper that ran down my back. “Ugh, can you get this?” I said, finally giving up and walking to where he sat on the couch.
“Yeah, sure.” He said, and he reached up and quickly undid the zipper for me.
There was a moment’s pause, as we both realized the situation, something innocent turning taboo, and I flushed bright red in embarrassment, and had just started to move away, when I felt his fingers trail down the length of my bare back.
I accidently let out a tiny gasp at his touch, and I could practically hear his smirk from behind me as he sat up. His hands slid from the small of my back to my hips and he pulled my body closer to his sitting one, his warm hands gliding over my cold skin, and then I felt his lips press the back of my neck, then again between the shoulder blades, before sliding them down to where his hands settled.
I had gasped again, and without thinking, I had pulled away from his hands and turned to face him. He had a smile dying on his face, he looked concerned and wary, as if he were afraid I was angry at him for bringing on a whole new level of intimacy. Holding hands and kisses on the cheek were one thing, having me half undressed and touching bare skin were another. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then, I did something I normally never did with a guy.
I kissed him first.
He responded immediately, one hand resting on the small of my back, applying pressure so I nearly collapsed onto him on the couch, the other on my neck, his thumb gently running on my jaw. I had to break the kiss first, my lungs bursting for oxygen, and his lips went to my neck, before I got enough air to kiss him again. His lips were insistent on mine, his teeth biting at my lower lip, his tongue demanding entrance, and I wasn’t even considering denying him. My hands were working of their own accord, working their way up his shirt, and onto his now burning chest.
“Fuck,” Brendon moaned eventually, pulling away, both of us panting. I was all but in his lap on the couch, the unzipped dress was hanging off my shoulder, and his shirt that had been tucked in was now a wrinkled mess and half unbuttoned.
I laughed slightly, burrowing my head into the crook of his neck, hiding my red face.
“Now I don’t want to go to dinner,” he said, laughing as well, running his hand up and down my back.
I sat up. “Why not?”
He tilted his head at me. “Because I’d rather stay here and do that all night.” I blushed again. “What?” He said, his hands pausing from their circuit on my back. “Don’t believe me?”
“I…I didn’t think you had wanted to kiss me, that’s all.” I mumbled.
He looked at me incredulously, and then started laughing. “You are so ridiculous, Lark. I’ve been dying to kiss you from the moment I saw you, I just thought you’d take my head off.”
I frowned at him, shifting to make myself more comfortable in his lap. “I’m not that scary.”
“Yes, you are,” he rebutted. But he softened into a smile again, and kissed me again, gently this time, his lips melting against mine. He leaned back, his eyes still closed. “No,” he said suddenly. “You aren’t really scary, but you try to pretend you are.”
It was a profound statement, but I didn’t try and figure out what he meant, because I had just looked at the clock. “Shit!” I yelped, stumbling backwards and off Brendon’s lap. “Bren, we were supposed to meet them 25 minutes ago!”
I looked at him, and he looked at me. His hair was up in all directions, his clothing was a mess, he had a hickey starting to form on his neck, and I’m sure I didn’t look any better. We burst into laughter.
|||
We arrived at the restaurant, still slightly frazzled, laughing our asses off at Brendon’s hair, which no matter how much mousse I had put in it, still looked like sex hair.
“No, hold still!” I said, giggling madly, reaching up and trying to brush down a particularly stubborn piece.
Brendon laughed as well, bending his knees, exaggerating how much taller he was, causing a whole new wave of laughter, and a bunch of people to glare.
“Finally! We thought you all died!”
We both snapped to attention, to see a smirking Jon and Spencer, a Ryan quietly smiling at the two of us in the back, and a beaming Pete Wentz, all coming from the bar area, drinks in hand. I cringed faintly, and Brendon, as if reading my thoughts, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pushed me forward slightly.
“Brendon Urie!” Pete boomed, causing people in the vicinity to swivel around to look at us.
“Peter Wentz!” Brendon said, just as loudly.
“Don’t call me Peter, asshole. Oh, and take your time next time man, seriously, I’m not even drunk yet.” Pete said, shaking his hand, and pulling him into a quick “bro hug”.
“Pete, you’re always drunk.” Brendon said, grinning at him.
“True,” He agreed, nodding, and then his eyes fell on me, and his smile widened. “Of course, I’d probably take my time too, if I was seeing Clark Abrams. You motherfucker,” he said, looking at Brendon again and shoving his shoulder. He looked back at me. “How are you, love of my life?”
“I heard you got married, Pete, congratulations.” I retorted dryly. There was a loud snort of laughter, and I glanced at the guys to see it was Ryan, covering his large smile with his hand. “Does she know I’m the love of your life?” Brendon pinched me, a reminder to “be nice.” Yeah, whatever.
He didn’t seem angry. Quite the opposite, actually. “Just like I remembered,” he said happily.
“Oh good.” I said sarcastically. “Now you can go and tell more stories to all your little band buddies.”
He laughed. “Liked that, did you?”
I grinned, despite myself. “You’re a bastard.”
He beamed at me. “So I’ve been told.”
I was saved by the seating hostess, a toothpick thin, drop dead gorgeous bitch who smiled at all the guys, and when she got to me, looked me up and down with aversion. I’ll cut her. “Are you all ready for your table?”
“No, we figured we’d just chill in the lobby, if that’s cool.” Wentz said. The girl opened her mouth and started stuttering about how if we really wanted to she could… “I was joking.” Pete said sighing. “You know, kidding around?” The girl blinked at him. He sighed again. “Yeah, we’re ready.” He turned to us. “Why does no one in New York have a sense of humor?”
“Cause we’re all stuck up assholes.” I told him.
“Ah, got it.” He then slung an arm around Brendon’s shoulder and pulled him away from me, as they walked to the table.
I glanced around. The loud introductions had gained us plenty of attention, and I could feel people’s eyes, and judgment, and hear the whispers. I nervously yanked on my dress and ran a hand through my hair; as I followed the group, keeping my eyes down to avoid looking at the people there.
“Hey,” I glanced up to see Ryan walking along with me.
“Hey,” I returned smiling at him. I had only talked to Ryan a couple times before, but I liked him immensely.
“I hate places like this. Everyone stares.” He said, looking around with obvious distaste. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“Yes, exactly!” I said, with a sigh of relief that someone else understood.
“It helps to pretend they aren’t looking at you, but someone else,” he said. “Takes some practice, but I’ve nearly mastered it.”
“Advice from the master?” I asked. We had arrived at the table.
He grinned back. “Something like that. If that fails, just start drinking.”
“I’ll go for the latter. Much more fun.”
He smiled again, nodding his head slightly, an odd little gesture, like he was bowing almost, and then held out a hand so I could sit down.
We were at a large table, in a more private room; or at least there weren’t as many people looking at us in here. The table was a half circle booth, and I ended up with Brendon on my left, and Ryan on my right. As I sat down, Brendon placed his arm around my shoulder, and placed a kiss on my temple. “You doing okay, kid?” he asked softly.
“I’d rather be at my apartment, with you.” I said, turning to him with a smile.
He grinned, pressed his forehead to mine, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. And even if I wasn’t one for PDA or anything, I loved that he could do that now. “The night is still young,” he said. “I’m sure we can leave early.”
I laughed. “Isn’t that rude?”
“Do you care?”
“No.”
“Me either.”
“Your hair still looks awful.”
“I blame you.”
“You also have a rather large bruise on your neck.”
“I blame you. Again.”
“Sir? Anything to drink?” A voice interrupted loudly. We both jumped to see that everyone was staring at us, once again (Pete was smirking so hard I thought his face might get stuck that way), and a very annoyed waiter glaring at Brendon.
“Sorry, gin and tonic?”
“You, miss?”
“Dry martini.” I said quickly.
The waiter walked away, and then everyone burst out laughing. “Jesus, Bren,” Spencer teased. “Are we not having your undivided attention tonight?”
“And, gee, what happened to your neck, there?” Pete said, causing Jon to dissolve into giggles again. “Clark did you see?”
“Shut up,” we both grumbled, turning red.
|||
It was surprising, but dinner was actually turning out to be fun. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that soon, it was just the 6 of us in the room, maybe it was the fact that Brendon had his arm around me, maybe it was the fact that the fact Brendon and I had kissed was finally sinking in, or maybe it was that I actually really like all of them, but I was enjoying myself.
After we had finished up dinner, Pete turned to me. “I forgot to ask, why didn’t you tell me you were in a band? I totally would have gone to see you.”
“See? You just answered your own question.” I said, smiling at him.
“Ahh, you’re a tricky bitch.” Pete was drunk, along with the rest of our table. “But seriously, are you all good?”
“They’re awesome.” Ryan said, speaking for me.
“Clark has mad skills,” Spencer agreed.
“Guitar?” Pete questioned.
“Love of my life,” I said, taking a sip from Brendon’s wine glass. He scowled at me.
“When’s your next show?” Pete asked. “I want to hear you all.”
“Tomorrow,” Brendon said. I elbowed him in the side. “Ouch! What? It is.”
“What club?” Pete insisted, ignoring the fact that I obviously didn’t want him there.
I sighed. “Ritter’s, on 34th. Doors are at 8.” I added before he could ask.
Fuck me. The guys were going to murder me for this one.
Brendon had come to my work and brought me lunch, something he’d been in the habit of ever since the first date when I mentioned I didn’t eat lunch. In fact, Brendon and I had been seeing each other quite a bit lately. It was odd, but ever since our perfect first date, it was like we were addicted to one another. Calling each other constantly, dates nearly every night, and on the weekends, we’d literally spend all day together. I felt like we just got each other. He seemed to understand me more than anyone ever had before, and I knew this not because he said it, but because I understood him just as much as he did me. It was strange, like everything we told one another wasn’t a surprise, but rather came to us like we had known that all along.
I knew I was falling for him, and I also knew it was absolutely ridiculous of me to do so. I had only known him for two weeks, and he’d leave in about three, off to Las Vegas and then to tour, and I’d be stuck here in New York, still in my same old routine. Brendon and I couldn’t be, and yet, I was shoving all these doubts into the back of my head, because being around him made me feel happier and calmer than I had felt in a long time. And, honestly, I wasn’t ready to give that up yet.
I think he felt the same. He found ways to see me, like bringing me lunch, or inviting me to dinner, or skipping out on interviews (pissing off his band mates) to hang out with me instead. We made jokes about it, sometimes he’d call me his “illegal drug” or I’d hear Jon and Spencer make references to Brendon having to “get his fix” when he bailed on them to see me instead.
The only problem, and consequently the thing that destroyed my whole theory, was the fact that he hadn’t kissed me yet.
Instead, I got these maddening, lingering kisses on the cheek. Once he had gone as far as kissing me on the neck when he had hugged me goodnight. I was going crazy. I was worried he didn’t want to kiss me; I was worried I was misinterpreting the signs. Maybe he was afraid of investing too much into this as well; maybe he was going to be the strong one because I knew I couldn’t be. I didn’t know, I would only spend countless thoughtless hours wondering why he hadn’t yet, what was holding him back, maybe I wasn’t attractive enough for him, maybe he had someone else in mind. Maybe I was only someone to pass the time with; maybe I didn’t know him like I thought I did.
“So,” Brendon said as we both stopped laughing. He had been telling me about pranks that he and his band mates had pulled on one another as we ate sitting out in the back lot outside my building. “I have to admit, I have an ulterior motive for coming today. I have a favor to ask you.”
“Oh?” I said. “You didn’t want to see my pretty face?”
He grinned, and then leaned over to kiss my shoulder. “You know I’d never pass up a chance to see your gorgeous face,” he said seriously. “But…okay, well, Pete Wentz is in town this weekend…”
I groaned, having an idea of where this was going.
“And, you know Spencer and Jon can’t keep their mouths shut, so they kinda mentioned to him that you and I have been seeing each other…and so he wants you to come to dinner with us, on Friday night. And I know you don’t have a show,” He said quickly when I opened my mouth to talk, “So don’t use that excuse.”
I sighed. Pete Wentz was not my favorite person in the world, and Brendon knew so. The day I met him as a guest on Late Night, he basically harassed me and one of the other interns all day. It was harmless flirting, on his part, I suppose, but when you have a short temper like I do, it becomes incredibly annoying. And then it just becomes cruel when they won’t leave you alone even when you ask...no, beg them to stop. The day ended with me shouting some rather inappropriate things at him (which only seemed to increase his fondness for me), Steven giving me a huge raise and a couple vacation days, and the band sending me a formal apology about three days later. But one look at Brendon’s face and I really had no choice. “Okay, fine.” I said, with a sigh.
“What? Seriously? Just like that?” He said incredulously.
I shrugged. “If he tries anything, he’s a dead man, you tell him that.”
“You’re the best!” He said happily, throwing his arm around me and hugging me tightly.
“I’m doing it for you,” I reminded him. “You know I hate Wentz.”
He grinned again, lacing his fingers with mine, rubbing his thumb over my wrist. He glanced down at our clasped hands and asked shyly, “Is it bad that I like that you’re doing it for me?”
I laughed. “Nope.”
He smiled his blinding smile, and then leaned down to kiss the underside of my wrist. “Good.”
|||
On Friday night, I was regretting my decision to go so badly, I was considering breaking a limb to get out of it. Pete was taking us to some trendy and fancy restaurant on the Upper East Side, and quite frankly, I had nothing to wear.
…this is a lie. My apartment had two bedrooms. I used one as mine; the other was just for clothing. I had something to wear, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Brendon was running 5 minutes late, I was 20 behind, standing in my glorified closet in my underwear and a long t-shirt, silently freaking out.
I did not go out to dinner with celebrities. I did not hang out with celebrities. Work was different it was my job and I had an upper hand, usually. Brendon was different, because he was Brendon.
This was Pete Wentz, who was a celebrity. He was in tabloids, he was followed by paparazzi, and his life was in everyone’s face. And this fucking restaurant! Like all other trendy, expensive restaurants on the Upper East Side, it would be filled with the skinny, beautiful, tall, model girls who make you feel like shit, wore designer clothing and would judge you faster than the Supreme Court. I didn’t just hate places like that, I despised them.
The buzzer for my apartment rang, jerking me out of my miniature meltdown. “Hello?” I said, answering it.
“Hey kid, it’s me, you ready?”
“You might as well come up,” I said with a sigh, buzzing him in.
I didn’t stop to realize this would be the first time Brendon would be in my apartment. And I didn’t realize until I yanked open the door that I was barely wearing clothing.
“Hmm,” Brendon said, looking me up and down. “Now I like this outfit.”
“Bren, I can’t go, I can’t do this,” I blurted, ignoring him. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. Just tell him I…I don’t know. Tell him I died. Of swine flu.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brendon said with a laugh.
“It’s a pandemic!” I said. “He’ll totally buy it.”
“Besides, I already told him you were coming. And you can’t really say no to Pete.”
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “I can’t do this.”
“Clark,” Brendon said gently. “What’s wrong? It’s just us and Pete. You’ve met the guys and Pete loves you, you don’t need to be nervous.”
“I can’t hang out with celebrities. I’m not…whatever it is you need to be to be with famous people. And these restaurants! They’re awful! I’ve got nothing to wear that won’t make me look like I’m a wannabe groupie…and…”
“Okay, okay,” Brendon said, taking my face in his hands. “Listen to me. First off, stop thinking about it like you’re hanging out with celebrities, think of it as hanging out with friends. That’s all Pete is. Second off, you are cool enough to hang out with anyone you want, and if any one judges you it’s because they’re just jealous. And thirdly, I’m sure you have something to wear. You can wear a brown paper bag for all I care. You could even go naked. I certainly don’t mind.”
I gave out a dry laugh, and Brendon beamed at me. “See, there you go. Let’s go look for something alright?”
“Ok,” I said miserably.
He kissed my forehead and smiled even larger. “And cheer up, kid.”
“Ok.”
“I like your apartment,” He said, glancing around. “It’s very you.”
“Thank you.” I said, but he was already off, exploring the details of my living quarters, laughing at the various things I had lying about.
“Good god,” he said as he found his way to my “closet”. “And you said you have nothing to wear? Come here,” he held out his hand and I took it, as he led us into the room, and started digging through various piles of clothes.
“Try…this one? Oh and this one,” He tossed me a low cut blue dress, with a wink. “And…sparkles!!” He said happily, piling about 5 more on. “Scoot, scoot.”
|||
“No. Not this one” He said confidently as I walked out in the last dress, an unappealing silver thing. Brendon was sprawled out on my sofa, we should have left 15 minutes ago to meet the rest of our party, and we didn’t really care, seeing as we were having too much fun anyways with our impromptu fashion show. “Black sparkly dress was better. I’m voting black sparkly.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “Much better than that blue one.”
“I liked that one,” He said, pouting slightly.
“Yeah you did,” I said, laughing. “I could see your boner from here.”
He snorted. “Girl, where can’t you see my boner?”
“As long as you’re at the right angle.” I said, causing him to laugh, while I struggled with the zipper that ran down my back. “Ugh, can you get this?” I said, finally giving up and walking to where he sat on the couch.
“Yeah, sure.” He said, and he reached up and quickly undid the zipper for me.
There was a moment’s pause, as we both realized the situation, something innocent turning taboo, and I flushed bright red in embarrassment, and had just started to move away, when I felt his fingers trail down the length of my bare back.
I accidently let out a tiny gasp at his touch, and I could practically hear his smirk from behind me as he sat up. His hands slid from the small of my back to my hips and he pulled my body closer to his sitting one, his warm hands gliding over my cold skin, and then I felt his lips press the back of my neck, then again between the shoulder blades, before sliding them down to where his hands settled.
I had gasped again, and without thinking, I had pulled away from his hands and turned to face him. He had a smile dying on his face, he looked concerned and wary, as if he were afraid I was angry at him for bringing on a whole new level of intimacy. Holding hands and kisses on the cheek were one thing, having me half undressed and touching bare skin were another. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then, I did something I normally never did with a guy.
I kissed him first.
He responded immediately, one hand resting on the small of my back, applying pressure so I nearly collapsed onto him on the couch, the other on my neck, his thumb gently running on my jaw. I had to break the kiss first, my lungs bursting for oxygen, and his lips went to my neck, before I got enough air to kiss him again. His lips were insistent on mine, his teeth biting at my lower lip, his tongue demanding entrance, and I wasn’t even considering denying him. My hands were working of their own accord, working their way up his shirt, and onto his now burning chest.
“Fuck,” Brendon moaned eventually, pulling away, both of us panting. I was all but in his lap on the couch, the unzipped dress was hanging off my shoulder, and his shirt that had been tucked in was now a wrinkled mess and half unbuttoned.
I laughed slightly, burrowing my head into the crook of his neck, hiding my red face.
“Now I don’t want to go to dinner,” he said, laughing as well, running his hand up and down my back.
I sat up. “Why not?”
He tilted his head at me. “Because I’d rather stay here and do that all night.” I blushed again. “What?” He said, his hands pausing from their circuit on my back. “Don’t believe me?”
“I…I didn’t think you had wanted to kiss me, that’s all.” I mumbled.
He looked at me incredulously, and then started laughing. “You are so ridiculous, Lark. I’ve been dying to kiss you from the moment I saw you, I just thought you’d take my head off.”
I frowned at him, shifting to make myself more comfortable in his lap. “I’m not that scary.”
“Yes, you are,” he rebutted. But he softened into a smile again, and kissed me again, gently this time, his lips melting against mine. He leaned back, his eyes still closed. “No,” he said suddenly. “You aren’t really scary, but you try to pretend you are.”
It was a profound statement, but I didn’t try and figure out what he meant, because I had just looked at the clock. “Shit!” I yelped, stumbling backwards and off Brendon’s lap. “Bren, we were supposed to meet them 25 minutes ago!”
I looked at him, and he looked at me. His hair was up in all directions, his clothing was a mess, he had a hickey starting to form on his neck, and I’m sure I didn’t look any better. We burst into laughter.
|||
We arrived at the restaurant, still slightly frazzled, laughing our asses off at Brendon’s hair, which no matter how much mousse I had put in it, still looked like sex hair.
“No, hold still!” I said, giggling madly, reaching up and trying to brush down a particularly stubborn piece.
Brendon laughed as well, bending his knees, exaggerating how much taller he was, causing a whole new wave of laughter, and a bunch of people to glare.
“Finally! We thought you all died!”
We both snapped to attention, to see a smirking Jon and Spencer, a Ryan quietly smiling at the two of us in the back, and a beaming Pete Wentz, all coming from the bar area, drinks in hand. I cringed faintly, and Brendon, as if reading my thoughts, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pushed me forward slightly.
“Brendon Urie!” Pete boomed, causing people in the vicinity to swivel around to look at us.
“Peter Wentz!” Brendon said, just as loudly.
“Don’t call me Peter, asshole. Oh, and take your time next time man, seriously, I’m not even drunk yet.” Pete said, shaking his hand, and pulling him into a quick “bro hug”.
“Pete, you’re always drunk.” Brendon said, grinning at him.
“True,” He agreed, nodding, and then his eyes fell on me, and his smile widened. “Of course, I’d probably take my time too, if I was seeing Clark Abrams. You motherfucker,” he said, looking at Brendon again and shoving his shoulder. He looked back at me. “How are you, love of my life?”
“I heard you got married, Pete, congratulations.” I retorted dryly. There was a loud snort of laughter, and I glanced at the guys to see it was Ryan, covering his large smile with his hand. “Does she know I’m the love of your life?” Brendon pinched me, a reminder to “be nice.” Yeah, whatever.
He didn’t seem angry. Quite the opposite, actually. “Just like I remembered,” he said happily.
“Oh good.” I said sarcastically. “Now you can go and tell more stories to all your little band buddies.”
He laughed. “Liked that, did you?”
I grinned, despite myself. “You’re a bastard.”
He beamed at me. “So I’ve been told.”
I was saved by the seating hostess, a toothpick thin, drop dead gorgeous bitch who smiled at all the guys, and when she got to me, looked me up and down with aversion. I’ll cut her. “Are you all ready for your table?”
“No, we figured we’d just chill in the lobby, if that’s cool.” Wentz said. The girl opened her mouth and started stuttering about how if we really wanted to she could… “I was joking.” Pete said sighing. “You know, kidding around?” The girl blinked at him. He sighed again. “Yeah, we’re ready.” He turned to us. “Why does no one in New York have a sense of humor?”
“Cause we’re all stuck up assholes.” I told him.
“Ah, got it.” He then slung an arm around Brendon’s shoulder and pulled him away from me, as they walked to the table.
I glanced around. The loud introductions had gained us plenty of attention, and I could feel people’s eyes, and judgment, and hear the whispers. I nervously yanked on my dress and ran a hand through my hair; as I followed the group, keeping my eyes down to avoid looking at the people there.
“Hey,” I glanced up to see Ryan walking along with me.
“Hey,” I returned smiling at him. I had only talked to Ryan a couple times before, but I liked him immensely.
“I hate places like this. Everyone stares.” He said, looking around with obvious distaste. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“Yes, exactly!” I said, with a sigh of relief that someone else understood.
“It helps to pretend they aren’t looking at you, but someone else,” he said. “Takes some practice, but I’ve nearly mastered it.”
“Advice from the master?” I asked. We had arrived at the table.
He grinned back. “Something like that. If that fails, just start drinking.”
“I’ll go for the latter. Much more fun.”
He smiled again, nodding his head slightly, an odd little gesture, like he was bowing almost, and then held out a hand so I could sit down.
We were at a large table, in a more private room; or at least there weren’t as many people looking at us in here. The table was a half circle booth, and I ended up with Brendon on my left, and Ryan on my right. As I sat down, Brendon placed his arm around my shoulder, and placed a kiss on my temple. “You doing okay, kid?” he asked softly.
“I’d rather be at my apartment, with you.” I said, turning to him with a smile.
He grinned, pressed his forehead to mine, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. And even if I wasn’t one for PDA or anything, I loved that he could do that now. “The night is still young,” he said. “I’m sure we can leave early.”
I laughed. “Isn’t that rude?”
“Do you care?”
“No.”
“Me either.”
“Your hair still looks awful.”
“I blame you.”
“You also have a rather large bruise on your neck.”
“I blame you. Again.”
“Sir? Anything to drink?” A voice interrupted loudly. We both jumped to see that everyone was staring at us, once again (Pete was smirking so hard I thought his face might get stuck that way), and a very annoyed waiter glaring at Brendon.
“Sorry, gin and tonic?”
“You, miss?”
“Dry martini.” I said quickly.
The waiter walked away, and then everyone burst out laughing. “Jesus, Bren,” Spencer teased. “Are we not having your undivided attention tonight?”
“And, gee, what happened to your neck, there?” Pete said, causing Jon to dissolve into giggles again. “Clark did you see?”
“Shut up,” we both grumbled, turning red.
|||
It was surprising, but dinner was actually turning out to be fun. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that soon, it was just the 6 of us in the room, maybe it was the fact that Brendon had his arm around me, maybe it was the fact that the fact Brendon and I had kissed was finally sinking in, or maybe it was that I actually really like all of them, but I was enjoying myself.
After we had finished up dinner, Pete turned to me. “I forgot to ask, why didn’t you tell me you were in a band? I totally would have gone to see you.”
“See? You just answered your own question.” I said, smiling at him.
“Ahh, you’re a tricky bitch.” Pete was drunk, along with the rest of our table. “But seriously, are you all good?”
“They’re awesome.” Ryan said, speaking for me.
“Clark has mad skills,” Spencer agreed.
“Guitar?” Pete questioned.
“Love of my life,” I said, taking a sip from Brendon’s wine glass. He scowled at me.
“When’s your next show?” Pete asked. “I want to hear you all.”
“Tomorrow,” Brendon said. I elbowed him in the side. “Ouch! What? It is.”
“What club?” Pete insisted, ignoring the fact that I obviously didn’t want him there.
I sighed. “Ritter’s, on 34th. Doors are at 8.” I added before he could ask.
Fuck me. The guys were going to murder me for this one.
♠ ♠ ♠
So...yeah.I think I deserve like....a shit ton of comments for this one. : D
Don't you?
Also, if you are looking for a good Alex Gaskarth fan-fic, I highly recommend this one, called Get Gone by PorcelainPlanes. It's really brilliant, and it's not getting the love it deserves, so please check it out and give her a shout out!
Have a Happy Weekend,
Sophie