Casual Affair

I couldn’t remember the last time I got drunk. It must have been sometime on the Too Weird tour, before anything happened with Brendon, and the only salt in my life had been accompanied by lime slices and not being dug into the wounds of my heart.

I knew we had to perform at some point in the party, and so I was a functional drunk, but a drunk none the less. Louis checked in every once in a while to make sure my ass wasn’t hanging out of the bottom of my dress as I wandered around double fisting different drinks.

I recognized probably a fourth of the faces dancing about to the tracks of our new album, and was only on a first name basis with about half of that fourth. Famous people all reached out and touched my arms as I walked past, hoping to be sighted next to one of the band members in the paparazzi photos that would surface the next day. I had no interest in boosting anybody’s image; the state I was in, I doubted I would be much help, anyway.

“I can smell the tequila on you from across the room,” Matt said when he caught up with me. He scrunched up his nose, demonstrating his superior sniffing skills.

“Well, you must be smelling someone else, then,” I drawled, “as I have been favoring some drinks of the grain based variety.”

“With a hefty side of lime and salt?” he teased, poking my nose.

I huffed and swatted his hand away. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he said, a little quickly. “I’m glad to see you loosening up.”

“Well good,” I said.

“Good,” he repeated. We had a bit of a stare off, like we were waiting to see what the other would do next, and when neither of us moved he flashed a quick smile. “So. Want another drink?”

“Hey, Elizabeth!”

We both turned, and the world turned with me. Walking towards us with a smile as bright as the sun was none other than Sarah Urie, arms outstretched and decked in a sassy short dress that looked like it came from a model in another decade.

“Sarah?” I gasped, too shocked to fight her off when she wrapped her arms around me and rested her chin on my shoulder in a friendly embrace. I looked over at Matt, and he stared back with the same wide eyed doe look.

Sarah giggled and pulled back to hold me at arm’s length, eyes sparkling in the club lights overhead. “Wow, you look gorgeous, Elizabeth,” she cooed, picking at a strand of my hair with her perfect fingernails. “Your hair looks so good when it’s curly. Is this natural?”

“Yeah,” I said, like the dumbfuck I was. The alcohol made my mind fuzzy, like a peach that didn’t know how to exactly react to their ex-lover’s wife fawning over them.

She smiled again, as if the wider she smiled the more peace she could bring between us. “Brendon’s around here somewhere,” she said, looking over her shoulders and glancing around the club. “I told him I’d try to find you to say hi.”

“Oh,” I said. I was regretting taking that last shot, now. The acid of the tequila rang around my stomach until the muscles clenched uncomfortably. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up like I had a fever, and I could already feel the sweats forming. I did not want to see Brendon. At all.

“Yeah,” Sarah said, oblivious to my internal freak out and still looking around. “I can find him if you want, get him to come say hi—“

“No!” I said, my voice coming out more like a shout. Matt and Sarah both stared at me in concern, and I cleared my throat. “No, that’s okay. We’ll meet up at some point. I’ve got like a thousand other people to say hi to.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, drawing out the vowel sounds like an alarmed sorority girl. “Well, I won’t keep you. Maybe once you make the rounds we can all catch up!” She looked like she really believed we could be friends, too. There was no way she knew, she couldn’t. She had too much naivety about her.

“Mmhm, okay. Matt?” I turned towards him, and he winced like I had struck him. “Can I have a minute?” I walked away before he could respond in the opposite direction that Sarah had come from, forcing my way through the sweaty well-dressed crowd. I knew he would follow me.

He always did.

We ducked into an empty hallway off the main room, and as soon as the sounds from the party were muffled I spun on him with my finger pointing accusingly. “What the fuck are the Uries doing here?” I spat. “Is this some kind of fucking punishment? Did you invite them here to torment me?”

Matt held up his hands to ward me off, eyes still wide and defenses up. “What? No! Of course I didn’t! I have no idea what they’re doing here any more than you do.”

“Bullshit! You knew it would drive me crazy. What? Do you get some sick twisted kind of pleasure from watching other people suffer?” My finger was in his face, and another surge of nausea wiped through me when I saw my nails. They were nowhere near as pretty as Sarah’s.

“Grigsby, calm down,” Matt warned, looking towards the main room. “You’re way loud.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” I screamed. “Why is he here?!”

“What’s going on?” Greg appeared around the corner, attracted by the sounds of my screaming. “Everything okay?”

“You.” Of course. Of fucking course. The one with the man crush. The alcohol took over my brain again and I stormed over to him, palm poised and ready to slap. Matt grabbed my wrist during my wind up and tugged me back, but I pulled against him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?” Greg asked. He glanced back at Matt. “Dude, how drunk is she?”

“Fuck you in the jaw!” I shouted.

Matt held me back when I lunged for Greg again. “Grigsby, he doesn’t know, okay?”

“Know what?” Greg asked. “Why does Grigsby want to punch me?”

“She thinks you invited Brendon and Sarah,” Matt explained.

“Oh.” Greg scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, I did.” My palm slipped free before Matt could stop me and popped loudly against Greg’s cheek. He yelped and stumbled back, holding his face with both hands like a drama queen. “What the fuck! I invited all of Panic!, why does that matter?”

“Why does that matter?” I mocked, struggling against Matt’s grasp. I wasn’t usually a violent drunk, but I didn’t do so well dealing with surprises when under the influence. “Why does that matter?!”

“Grigsby, you’re getting hysteric,” Matt warned, tightening his arms around my middle. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” I insisted, despite the crazy desire to slap the shit out of my bandmate still coursing through my veins. I twitched in Matt’s grasp, and he held me tighter. Evidently I wasn’t very convincing.

“Beer, anyone?” Louis popped up out of nowhere, like usual, and shoved a bottle in my face. He tipped my head back and forced the liquid past my lips. I choked a bit before I finally gave up and opened my throat, letting the beer trickle down before changing course and straight up chugging it. “Beer calms her down,” Louis explained to the other two.

“Getting her more drunk is probably not the best idea right now,” Matt sighed, letting me go when I snagged the bottle from Louis’ hands and cradled it like a baby with its milk.

“So what’s up?” Louis asked. “Did she see Avery is here or something?”

“What?” Greg and Matt both shrieked.

“Avery is here?” Matt asked. “What the fuck is Avery doing here?”

“I invited him,” I said between gulps. The guys all spun on me with wide eyes. I grunted and waved a hand at them. “You look like fish. Honestly, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Matt asked. “The big deal is that you invited that scum of the Earth asswipe here. You as good as welcomed him back into your life. Did you not get hurt enough the last time, Grigsby?” He moved closer to me until his nose was almost against mine. “Huh? You looking for more pain?”

“Dude, I’d back up. She’s got a mean slap,” Greg warned, rubbing his cheek again. “Which I still don’t understand why I got.”

I had tripped a wire in Matt’s brain. His eyes snapped around my face, pupils dilated in fury at the knowledge that I had invited Avery, had welcomed some apparent evil back into our lives, and in that glance I saw the walls of our secret crumble before he turned back to Greg and Louis.

“She’s mad because you invited Brendon and Sarah and she fucked Brendon on the tour,” he snapped.

All the liquor in the world couldn’t have saved me from the shame that came with Louis and Greg’s shocked stares.

“You WHAT?” Greg gasped. His hands were limp in front of him, held out like he was pleading and forlorn, like he was begging for this to not be true.

Louis’ shock melted into understanding, and he bobbed his head up and down. “Makes sense.”

I glared at Matt, and he at me. “You promised,” I whispered, surprised at how tight my throat felt. My eyes were dry, tight and dehydrated from the alcohol in my blood.

He glared even harder and crossed his arms. “So did you,” he snapped. Memories of me hunched in his embrace, broken and sobbing, flashed through my mind, but I pushed them away. His betrayal stung harder than any broken promise I may have made years ago to stay away from Avery.

I turned my head away and glared at the wall, embarrassed and ashamed.

“Hey guys?” One of the roadies peeked his head around the corner, shrinking away when we all turned our glares onto him. “You’re set to perform in five.”

“Fine.” I turned back to Matt, my blood still on fire, and shoved my empty bottle into his chest until he grabbed it. “Let’s get this over with.”

“What a celebration,” Matt mocked. I ignored him, and pushed past to get on stage.

The crowd seemed ignorant of our argument, and congregated around the stage blissfully unaware of the tension that lingered between us as thick as blood. Louis sidled up behind his kit, the most unaffected by the fight; Greg pulled his strap over his shoulder and gave his guitar a few plucks, still shell-shocked; Matt tugged his bass close and furiously adjusted the tuning like it had done him a great wrong.

Ignoring the shitfest that was behind me, I grabbed onto the mic stand before me, albeit a bit unsteady, and glowered at the crowd through heavy eyelids. They mistook my anger as part of my act. Maybe normally I did exaggerate some kind of pissed off state to fuel the crowd’s excitement, but not tonight.

Tonight the fire in my blood was blue flames, and my words were slick oil. When the two combined, they became an unstoppable heat that spread through the entire place like wildfire. It was destructive and unstoppable—but it was also beautiful.

“Hello, all you lovely people,” I nearly moaned into the mic. Everyone cheered, hoping my eye contact would personalize the greeting. “Thank you all for coming out tonight. It’s nice to know some of you people still give two shits about us rejects after all this time.”

More cheers and shrill screams. Decent and mature women wailed their desire for my bandmates’ babies and men cat called in good spirit.

I stared straight ahead at the wall in the back. I didn’t want to see Avery. I didn’t want to see Sarah. I didn’t want to see the Voldemort-name-equivalent.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Urie.

“We’re only going to sing a few songs tonight,” I said. “It’s probably all I can get through after my wonderful treatment from you fine folks at the bar.” Some gentle laughs as I swayed where I stood, and I grinned like a maniac. “Alrighty, boys. Count me in.”

Despite the fact that we all currently hardcore hated each other at the moment, we rocked out. We let our anger feed the volume of each chord and syncopation, and I writhed across the stage in a passion, spitting out the venomous lyrics of our angriest new track like I could draw it from my blood and cleanse myself.

I saw a flash of sad brown eyes in the crowd and spun away from them towards the piano in the corner of the stage. Matt glanced over at me as he switched to an acoustic, eyes flittering over me in concern as I stumbled onto the bench. I ignored him and positioned my fingers, splaying them out over the ivories. Matt sighed and moved up towards his mic.

“So, with this next number, Grigsby and I decided to switch things up a bit,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the fret board until the slick braying sound of rubbing strings echoed in the room. “It’s a bit slower, a little less rockin’—sorry Lou, man.”

Louis made a face of such disappointment and held up his sticks in defeat to a chorus of laughs. Greg warily eyed Matt from his side of the stage, fingers poised at his strings to strum.

Matt smiled into the mic, and I noticed his cheeks flare up in a dull pink. He never talked to the crowd, not when we were on stage. Not by himself. Usually I hogged up all the attention, but not intentionally.

I cleared my throat and practiced placing my fingers on the right notes as he finished up his schpeal. The black and white were nearly blurring together. It was a good thing this was our last song.

“A lot of the time our songs are all angry or pouty or various kinds of sarcastic,” he was saying, his voice buzzing like an echo. “But believe it or not, we’re sweet kids. We care—maybe too much. We love just like anyone else.” He looked down at his strings and swallowed before glaring into the crowd.

“And we get hurt, too. But we always have hope.” He plucked out the opening chord and tossed his head, flicking his hair out of his face. “This is for all you broken hearted suckers like us.”

I really liked Matt’s song—it was really pretty, even if I hated to admit it in that moment. He had a good, clear voice, and our voices blended pretty well for our harmonies.

I couldn’t look up from the keys the whole song; I could feel eyes on me, eyes that had a more powerful impact than the hundreds of strangers in the crowd. I made the mistake of glancing up once, on the most heartbreaking lyric, and my voice broke when I saw him—I hiccupped and had to look away again just as quick.

He was crying, too.

I all but ran off the stage when we were done, smooshed by the crowd collapsing on either side of me as I joined their ranks. So many pats on the back, so many “Fucking yeah, Spilled Decanters!”

And then, a quieter, “You okay, Elizabeth?”

I thought my heart would burst.

I turned to him, feeling the room grow several degrees cooler when our eyes met as the other bodies spread back out and away. I became acutely aware of how sweaty and gross I was, and how my dress was plastered against my skin. His smile made me feel hot again, from my scalp to my toes, and I couldn’t swallow.

“Hey, Bren,” I whispered.

He offered me another sad smile and looked down at his hands. It was then I noticed they were full, and he held them out to me. Clasped between his fingers were copies of the new album. “Vinyl and CD,” he said, with a short laugh. “Couldn’t resist. Could you flatter me with an autograph?”

I stared at the albums for a while before my brain decided to finally click back on. “Meet and greet isn’t until later,” I said, tearing my eyes up to meet his. “You gotta wait in line with everybody else, dude.”

His eyes crinkled in a genuine smile. “Oh, I think we’re well past all those formalities. Look, I brought my own pen and everything.” He dug into his pocket and held it up for me to see. My stomach tightened when I read the name advertised on its side—the hotel we stayed in that last time together.

“It’s really better to use marker to sign those,” I said, diverting my eyes from the proffered pen.

His smile faltered as he lowered his arm. “Well, that’s a shame. I’m fresh out.”

I couldn’t stand him looking sad, couldn’t stand the awkwardness. So I said, “I think there’s some at the merch table.”

His eyebrows lifted, knowing that meant I would invite further conversation, and he followed me to the table without a word. I grabbed a marker from our merch girl Maggie between sales and stepped away with him to a quiet corner, away from the bustling crowd.

“Here,” I said, and reached out for the CD first. I dug out the book from the case and scribbled my name along it, tucking it back inside before offering to switch for the vinyl. He watched me soundlessly as I added my John Hancock to that as well.

“I imagined your signature to be more girly,” he finally said when I handed everything back to him. I raised my eyebrows, mouth open to retort, but he waved his hand. “Calm down, it’s not an insult. I just didn’t expect it to have so much…character.”

I shook my head, instantly regretting it when I felt the world spin. “I will never understand you.”

He smirked, that same smirk that drove me wild. “I wouldn’t recommend ever trying to.”

“I gave up on that,” I said. “A long time ago.”

His smirk vanished. We both knew I wasn’t just talking about understanding him.

When the silence strained on awkward, I looked down and cleared my throat. “Welp, I better go,” I said, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder in the opposite direction.

“Oh,” he said, like a sigh. “Okay.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and he scratched the back of his neck. “I had hoped—“

“I need to go,” I said, like a jumbled mess. I flashed a quick smile, muttered a quiet, “Thank you for coming,” and hightailed it before I could offer a backward glance or hear his stuttered response.

I was about ten steps away when a hard body slammed into mine, nearly knocking me off balance. A strong hand reached out and grabbed my wrist before I could topple, tugging me back into a chest rumbling with laughter.

“Apologies, my lady,” Avery chuckled, helping me steady on my feet. “You okay there?”

“Avery,” I breathed. I reached out and placed my hands on his thick shoulders to steady myself. “Hi.”

He grinned. “Hi, Betsy.”

Betsy. Nobody had called me that in years.

My mind was gone, lost to the seduction of intoxication. My nostrils flared as I inhaled his familiar scent, that mystery fragrance of cologne mixed with apple and mint gum.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Brendon watching me, hanging on some man he didn’t know. Sarah walked up to him, and still his eyes remained fixed on mine, questioning, hurting.

Well, he wasn’t allowed to be hurting. He wasn’t the one with a naked ring finger and an empty heart.

That was me.

And I was the one turning my head away and back towards Avery, the one with eyelids heavy with seduction and nostalgia as I whispered, “Let’s go back to your place.”

Avery smiled, innocently, almost, and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go.”

I felt several pairs of eyes on my back as I let him lead me out. I didn’t look back at a one of them.

Elizabeth Grigsby didn’t look back.

Except on to Avery Cooper.