Casual Affair

Nobody seemed surprised to find that Brendon and I were once again no longer on speaking terms, but everyone was curious as to the sudden switch back into tension. The covert glares between Brendon and myself were not lost on my bandmates, and the other Panic! guys vocally wondered aloud why I had only selected the one show to watch and had not returned since.

The reason was simple. I was an idiot for letting myself watch Brendon in his element, and that hypnotization led me to being an even further idiot in allowing him to kiss me—and for enjoying it. I hated him, I hated the kiss, and I would not—could not—let myself fall into that trap again by pretending to find him bearable.

Brendon didn’t seem to be in the least bit bothered by the whole ordeal. If anything he had even more of a spring to his step whenever I saw him around, always flashing me a huge and genuine smile. We both knew full well he could see through my façade of disgust towards him, but it didn’t stop me from refraining from giving him the day of time. The only time Brendon didn’t seem to be completely blissful was whenever his phone rang, and a glint of guilt indicating it was Sarah calling him flickered behind his eyes.

Which was even more of a reason to keep my distance. As much as I—maybe, possibly, definitely—enjoyed that kiss, the fact remained that he wasn’t mine to kiss. List or not, I didn’t want to be that girl. No matter how endearing I actually found Brendon, or how much I actually enjoyed our stolen yet innocent moments together.

No matter how much it felt like I could fall for him, I wouldn’t. Because Elizabeth Grigsby does not trifle with affairs.

“Weren’t you and Brendon working on a song together?” Matt asked me. Teal was at the front of the bus, leaving us bandmates alone for once in the back to work on our album. Sheets of lyrics and music lay scattered around us, seeming to be a complete disarray but in actuality in a functional sorting.

I glanced up at him, scratching out a line on a piece of paper I found too flowery. “We were,” I said, turning back to my pen. “And now we’re not.”

“What, did you guys scrap it?” he asked. His fingers were running down his bass neck, testing out a few riffs.

I shrugged and leaned back, falling against Louis’ legs from where he sat behind me. He grunted in surprise, evidently having dozed off, but he didn’t shove me off. “We didn’t scrap it,” I said. “We just haven’t worked on it, so right now it’s not happening.”

Greg sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Elizabeth, why are you two on edge this time?”

I rolled my eyes. “We don’t fight often enough for this to be referred to as ‘this time.’”

He shook his head. “You two have been weird the whole tour so far, so I think it works.”

Matt nodded, keeping his eyes on his fret board as his fingers slid around. “It’s true. So what happened? Did he call you fat or something?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Would there be a reason for him to call me fat?”

He froze and looked over at me, letting his eyes run up and down my body a second longer than necessary, and quickly shook his head. “Um, no. It’s just…I mean…fuck it, Brendon’s an idiot. I totally hate him, too, Grigs.” He flashed me a grin in an effort to simmer any anger he may have fueled and quickly turned back to his bass.

I rolled my eyes and shuffled the papers in my hands. None of these songs were turning out the way I wanted them to. I could still feel Greg’s eyes on me, and I offered him a glare. “What?”

“I want to know what’s going on,” he said. “You’re fucking with the entire dynamic of the tour here. It’s really awkward for everyone else with you and Brendon not talking. We like them, Grigsby. Don’t spoil this!”

“You sound so gay,” Louis mumbled, missing Greg’s glare as he shifted behind me.

“Would you just talk to him or something?” Greg asked, ignoring Louis as he began to exaggerate some fake snores. “At least be cordial like you were for a little bit. Tour’s no fun when the lead singers can’t even be in the same room as each other.”

I groaned and threw my pen at him, pleased when it bounced off his chest. “Fine! I’ll talk to him. Now shut the fuck up and help me fix this chorus.”

Teal emerged from the front of the bus a few hours later, sleepily rubbing her eyes in an effort to appear like an adorable tired bunny. She yawned, covering her mouth with her delicate fingers, and shuffled over to Matt. “Driver says we’re almost there,” she said, shooting me a glare. “He’s dropping us off at the hotel.”

“Geeze, what time is it?” Matt asked, glancing at his phone. “Shit, it’s like almost two in the morning.”

Louis shuffled behind me, gingerly pulling away so I wouldn’t fall back when he moved. “Thank God. I am ready for a bed.”

The hotel was pretty nice, even at the late hour that we got there. The staff were all pleasant enough, though I’m sure they must have been pretty exhausted, and were very apologetic when they told us they couldn’t get us rooms next to each other. Instead we would be spaced out along the sixth and seventh floors, which evidently ran much longer than any of us anticipated.

“Right, so we’re in this room here,” Matt said with a yawn, hoisting Teal’s bag higher over his shoulder as they paused in front of a door close to the elevator.

“We’re down there more,” Greg said, pointing his thumb in the opposite direction.

“And I’m up another floor,” I groaned, realizing too late I had stepped off the elevator too soon.

“Want help getting your stuff up there?” Louis asked. He was being polite, but I could see the red tint to his eyes—he was practically a dead man walking, much in need of sleep.

I shook my head and gripped my bag tighter to my side. “Nah, I’m fine. You guys go ahead to bed. I’ll see ya in the morning.” They all nodded and pulled me in for hugs—with the exception of Teal—before taking off for their respective rooms to engage in sleep or other recreational activities. I waited in front of the elevator, hoping it would come back soon and I wouldn’t have to resort to taking the stairs.

To my luck, it dinged open in front of me minutes after our goodbyes, and I happily hoisted up my bag to walk inside. But, of course, there was one other person standing inside, and he was giving me the biggest grin known to mankind.

“Fancy meeting you here, Elizabeth,” Brendon smiled, holding the button to keep the door open.

“The odds are quite stunning, Brendon,” I said, walking in and standing as far away from him as I could. I closed my eyes and tried taking a deep breath through my nose, just like my mom taught me to do whenever I got anxious and wanted to do something stupid. Right now that something stupid was caught between punching the lead singer of a worldwide famous band or kissing said singer into oblivion.

“Floor?” Brendon asked.

“Seven.”

“What a coincidence.” I could hear his smile, and I could see it behind my eyelids as I heard him push on the button with his thumb. “That’s where I’m headed.”

I opened my eyes and gave him a look. “Of course it is.”

Luckily the ride up was short, and as soon as the doors slid open I tumbled out of the elevator, taking off down the hall without even offering a glimpse at the room numbers I passed. I could hear Brendon struggling to keep up with me and could just imagine his bag catching on the heel of his shoe. Maybe he’d trip. That might be funny.

But yet again, life wasn’t that kind. He caught up to me in a few quick strides, apparently not too concerned with looking at the room numbers either. “I’ll accept your apology anytime, you know,” he said.

I whipped around to face him, accidentally flinging my bag around with me and banging him in the knee with it. He winced, but I didn’t pay him any mind.

“Excuse me?” I asked. “My apology? The only person that should be spewing ‘I’m sorry’s round here should be you, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow, bending over to rub his kneecap with a frown. “Me? Why should I apologize?” I scoffed, offering a quick glance around the floor to make sure no one was around, and he rolled his eyes. “We’re the only ones that scored this floor, calm down.”

“Why should you apologize?” Despite his assurance nobody we knew would be walking out of any of the nearby rooms my words came out in a harsh whisper. If I didn’t talk like that, I knew I’d just start yelling, and nobody needed that. “I don’t know, maybe because you kissed me the other day?”

He shrugged. “But I’m not sorry about that.”

I moved back like he had slapped me, furrowing my eyebrows with a click of my tongue. “Well, you fucking well should be.” I tried storming away again but Brendon wasn’t having it; he reached out and snagged my wrist, keeping me from getting too far away.

“Was it really that bad?” he asked, scooting around so I faced him. “I thought it was pretty nice, actually.”

I bit my lip, not wanting to acknowledge that in had in fact been a good kiss, but I could tell my teeth betrayed me by the way his eyes darted down to my lips. “Listen, Brendon, I promised the guys I’d try to be more civil with you, but that’s not going to happen if you keep trying to just make me another notch in your belt, okay? Give me some more respect than that.”

He stuttered and his grip loosened on my wrist, giving me a chance to slide away. “I do respect you!” he spluttered, almost forgetting to pick up his bag before following after me again. “And I’m not trying to make you a notch in my belt.”

I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “Could have fooled me.”

He sighed and ran in front of me, holding up his hand to stop me from pushing past. “Can I please just say some things before you storm off again?” he asked.

“Are they going to make me want to slap you again?”

I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “I hope not.”

I took a good look into his eyes, searching for any signs of trickery or ill intent, but all I could see was a look of vulnerability one wouldn’t expect to find on Brendon Urie’s face. So, with a sigh, I leaned against the nearest wall and crossed my arms, giving the slightest nod of my head as the cue for Brendon to go ahead.

He took a deep breath and set his bag down next to me, rubbing his palms on the thighs of his jeans as if they were becoming sweaty. Which they might have been, but that was kind of gross, and I didn’t really want to think about it. Instead I just wanted to think about the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“Listen, I know we never really got off to a fair start,” he said. “From the get go you were put under the impression that all I wanted from you was some…hanky panky.” I couldn’t help but giggle at his blush.

“Hanky panky?”

He shrugged. “Funny business, heated humping. Take your pick. But anyway.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Look, it’s just…I didn’t ask you on tour for that, okay? I really do respect you, both as a person and musician. I’ve wanted to meet you for years. I mean, we started around the same time and I just…I don’t know. God, I always fuck this up.” He was struggling, I could tell; I tried not to appear anxious and struggled to keep my eyes on his face instead of glancing behind me towards where I assumed my room to be, but when he only continued to trip over his tongue I decided it was time to intervene.

“Brendon,” I said, cutting off his stuttering. “You’re married.”

He swallowed again, leaning his head against the wall with a sigh. “I know.” His eyes raked over my face, darting around until they finally landed sadly on my eyes. “You like me.”

I sighed and mimicked his position against the wall. “I know,” I repeated. A ghost of a smile flashed against his lips. “I hate you for making me feel like this, though.”

He laughed and stepped closer until our chests were touching. “How the fuck do you think I feel?” His fingers wove themselves into the hair by the nape of my neck, threading in tantalizing circles as he inched closer.

I just shrugged and leaned into his caress. “Are you going to kiss me again?” I asked, my voice coming out as a whisper.

He nodded, brushing his nose against mine as a result. “I was kinda planning on it.”

I nodded back, swallowing my sarcastic reply as my eyes fluttered shut. “It’s wrong.”

He chuckled, nuzzling his nose against mine and wrapping his free arm around my waist. “Which of us are you trying to convince more?”

When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was the deep brown of his. I became mesmerized, watching the irises contract around his pupils, counting the flecks of darker shades that lined the more milk chocolate colors. Those seconds weren’t long enough for me to truly appreciate them, and I hated Sarah for having more time to look at them. Somehow it didn’t seem fair, even though she had had him first. Even though he wasn’t mine.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

The second kiss was even more overwhelming than the first. In the dressing room he had been harsh, almost demanding, but this time he was soft. Tender even. He cradled my head between his palms as he moved his mouth against mine, not even pressuring me to open my lips, just content to press against me and inhale my scent.

My bag dropped against my foot when it slid out of my grasp, but I hardly noticed. I was too busy holding onto his jacket for dear life—it was like if I let go I’d plummet to the ground and melt through the floor in one big sappy mush. His taste sent my head swirling in directions only astronauts had probably traveled. I was lost in the aroma of his cologne and the smacking of skin as we pulled apart and came back together. I had never realized before how beautiful a kiss could sound.

“Have you ever seen Walk the Line?” he asked when he finally pulled back for air. His chest heaved beneath my fingertips, and it made my blood rush to feel his heart thudding under my palm.

“What?” I asked, still in a daze.

He chuckled and pressed another quick kiss against my lips before reaching down for our bags. “Walk the Line. About Johnny Cash?”

A rush of cool air smacked my body when he pulled away, snapping me back into reality and down from the high that was Brendon’s proximity. “It’s not every day that I kiss a guy into IMDB, but I guess stranger things have happened.”

He rolled his eyes and nudged me down the hall, continuing our adventure searching for our rooms. “Have you seen it or not, smart ass?”

I chuckled, trying to take my bag from him to no avail. “Yes, I’ve seen it. Now what about it?”

“Cash had a crush on June Carter forever. And then they toured together, and he fell for her even harder, until finally,” he trailed off, bobbing his eyebrows at me. “She fell for him, too. And he convinced her to let him in her hotel room one night after a show.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts that were spiraling around at his implication. “If I recall correctly that little rendezvous didn’t end so well, though. The whole pill-popping thing can really be a downer to a woman’s erection.”

He gave me a look, caught between amusement and disgust, and shook his head. “Maybe, but the rest all turned out well.” I caught sight of my room and paused in front of it, nodding my head towards the number to indicate to him this was my stop. He gently set my bag by my feet as I leaned against the door.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re Johnny Cash?” I asked. His eyes flashed to my smirk and the way my breasts were pushed up when I crossed my arms before returning to my face.

“Maybe,” he smiled. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his thumb caress my chin as he pulled away. “I’m pretty sure you’re my June Carter.”