Status: This Story is ACTIVE! ^-^ Enjoy~
It's Time for Us to Take a Chance
Chapter Eight: I Constantly Thank the Loud Speaker for Saving My Butt
"You slept with him! You little whore!" Cassidie playfully punches my arm. "No! It wasn't like oh-my-god-you're-so-fucking-hot-lets-have-sex kind of sleeping. It was raining and I was scared and he was there. I know him better than any of the other guys there. I felt kinda safe, I guess." I explain. "I can't believe you got to sleep with Ryan," Joey pouts. I roll my eyes, knowing how abrupt they were ignoring my explanation as to why Ryan and I ended up in the same bed together. It was strange though. I didn't feel the same way I felt when Brendon was holding me. Gah! No! Shut up, Paige!
We finally make it backstage of Warfield (San Francisco). There wasn't much to do but help set up and get the band's things up and running. They'd already finished their sound check. Now everyone was just hanging around being bored. I popped my headphones in and began cleaning up the mess people made. There were simple things like beer cans and red solo cups just lying around littering the little backstage lounge area. Of course Cassidie and Joey helped while the guys sit around talking and joking.
While in the middle of sweeping the floor near a mirror someone taps my shoulder. I take a quick glance into the mirror. Brendon stood with a broad smile. I take out my head phones and turn to face him. Warning: objects in the mirror are closer than what they appear! His body left only a small sliver of space between us. I grip the table behind me. "Hello," I say politely. "Hey. Why don't you take a break. You haven't sat down since we got here," he chuckles. "It is my job, Urie," I explain. He nods, understanding where I was coming from. "Well, Cassidie and Joey seem to be enjoying a little time off. Why don't you?" he asks. I look over his shoulders - having to stand on my tippie toes, of course - to find Cassidie flirting with Spencer and Joey watching Ryan fiddle with his guitar. I sigh. How did they get jobs here, again?
"Ya see. Come on. Lets go for a walk." he insists. I lean the broom against the nearest wall and follow Brendon out of the room and into the hall, earning whispers from the guys as we left. "So, Paige, how old are you?" he asks casually. "I am 23 years young, sir." I answer politely. "Cool. Where're you from? Vegas?" he asks. "No. Anaheim California. Although, my uncle Tommy lives in Vegas. I go out to visit sometimes. Like holidays and all that."
"Well, maybe you should come and visit me when the tour is over. After this I'll be done for a while before I have to fly out to London." Does he really think I'm gonna fly out to Vegas to see him? "Sure, that would be pretty cool." I guess he does now, hu? "You know, you're really different," he states. "And that's supposed to mean..?" I fold my arms across my chest and wait for an answer. He chuckles. "Not in a bad way. I mean you're not treating me like I'm big time, sexy, lead singer of Panic at the Disco. You see me as-" "The guy that almost had to get fake nipples from a random stranger surgically sewn on because he decided to talk shit about my music. Yeah, I know." I smile innocently. He blinks a few times, utter confusion takes over his expression. I laugh.
"Trust me. I was freaking out mentally when I first saw you. But then you mentioned the airport and..." I trail off, seeing as he knew where I was headed. "So you hate me now because of that?" he looks down at me, a hint of worry in thoes big, brown, beautiful eyes. I shake my head without turning to face him "I don't hate you, per say," I admit. He nods. "Good. I think." his brow furrows again.
"Why didn't you let me hold you last night...when you were scared?" he randomly asks. That was a tough question to answer. There were a lot of different reasons for my behavior that night, but all of them I wasn't comfortable sharing with him or hardly anyone else. It would only bring back memories that are better off pushed to the back of my mind, locked away, and never thought of again.
"Will Panic at the Disco please make their way towards the main stage area. I repeat, Panic at the Disco please make their way to the stage area," the lady says over the loud speaker. Ah, the loud speaker, always there to save my ass when I need it. Thank you anonymous loud speaker lady! Brendon stops walking and looks at me. "I'll talk to you after the show?" he asks. "If your fan girls don't swallow you whole," I shrug. He laughs before jetting off.
We finally make it backstage of Warfield (San Francisco). There wasn't much to do but help set up and get the band's things up and running. They'd already finished their sound check. Now everyone was just hanging around being bored. I popped my headphones in and began cleaning up the mess people made. There were simple things like beer cans and red solo cups just lying around littering the little backstage lounge area. Of course Cassidie and Joey helped while the guys sit around talking and joking.
While in the middle of sweeping the floor near a mirror someone taps my shoulder. I take a quick glance into the mirror. Brendon stood with a broad smile. I take out my head phones and turn to face him. Warning: objects in the mirror are closer than what they appear! His body left only a small sliver of space between us. I grip the table behind me. "Hello," I say politely. "Hey. Why don't you take a break. You haven't sat down since we got here," he chuckles. "It is my job, Urie," I explain. He nods, understanding where I was coming from. "Well, Cassidie and Joey seem to be enjoying a little time off. Why don't you?" he asks. I look over his shoulders - having to stand on my tippie toes, of course - to find Cassidie flirting with Spencer and Joey watching Ryan fiddle with his guitar. I sigh. How did they get jobs here, again?
"Ya see. Come on. Lets go for a walk." he insists. I lean the broom against the nearest wall and follow Brendon out of the room and into the hall, earning whispers from the guys as we left. "So, Paige, how old are you?" he asks casually. "I am 23 years young, sir." I answer politely. "Cool. Where're you from? Vegas?" he asks. "No. Anaheim California. Although, my uncle Tommy lives in Vegas. I go out to visit sometimes. Like holidays and all that."
"Well, maybe you should come and visit me when the tour is over. After this I'll be done for a while before I have to fly out to London." Does he really think I'm gonna fly out to Vegas to see him? "Sure, that would be pretty cool." I guess he does now, hu? "You know, you're really different," he states. "And that's supposed to mean..?" I fold my arms across my chest and wait for an answer. He chuckles. "Not in a bad way. I mean you're not treating me like I'm big time, sexy, lead singer of Panic at the Disco. You see me as-" "The guy that almost had to get fake nipples from a random stranger surgically sewn on because he decided to talk shit about my music. Yeah, I know." I smile innocently. He blinks a few times, utter confusion takes over his expression. I laugh.
"Trust me. I was freaking out mentally when I first saw you. But then you mentioned the airport and..." I trail off, seeing as he knew where I was headed. "So you hate me now because of that?" he looks down at me, a hint of worry in thoes big, brown, beautiful eyes. I shake my head without turning to face him "I don't hate you, per say," I admit. He nods. "Good. I think." his brow furrows again.
"Why didn't you let me hold you last night...when you were scared?" he randomly asks. That was a tough question to answer. There were a lot of different reasons for my behavior that night, but all of them I wasn't comfortable sharing with him or hardly anyone else. It would only bring back memories that are better off pushed to the back of my mind, locked away, and never thought of again.
"Will Panic at the Disco please make their way towards the main stage area. I repeat, Panic at the Disco please make their way to the stage area," the lady says over the loud speaker. Ah, the loud speaker, always there to save my ass when I need it. Thank you anonymous loud speaker lady! Brendon stops walking and looks at me. "I'll talk to you after the show?" he asks. "If your fan girls don't swallow you whole," I shrug. He laughs before jetting off.