Casual Affair

I was beginning to think Greg most definitely had a man crush on the boys of Panic! at the Disco. He giggled a lot at their antics and always made sure he had a seat next to them at the bar or whatever booth we landed at the various clubs we hit up after our shows. He also was one of the first people to give the guys a slap on the back whenever they walked off stage, blubbering on about what a grand performance they had given, and wondering if they needed some water, or maybe they needed help with their instruments?

I half expected him to start asking them if he could bother them for a blow job.

It was endearing, to be sure, seeing how flustered he got in his effort of befriending them. It was always fun to watch him make a fool of himself, which he did at least twice a day in his efforts, but it was starting to become inconvenient. He was everywhere all the time, which meant the little moments Brendon and I stole alone together were fleeting and often nerve wracking.

There was always a pause in our set where I stepped off to refresh with some water while the guys played an interlude of some tune they had whipped up for fun. As they entertained the roaring crowd, I disappeared into the nooks of backstage and into Brendon’s waiting arms. It was three minutes away from prying eyes every night where I should have been drinking water and instead was getting drunk off of his kiss, my body still tingling from where his hands had touched me when I walked back onstage for some more sexually charged performances.

It had only been three days since our encounter in the hotel hallway, but it felt like years had passed. When our bands came together to eat at various restaurants or get drunk at clubs following the show, it felt like I had known all of these people much longer than the two weeks we had been on tour. Especially Brendon.

Every smile he shot me or kiss he snuck me made my stomach twirl, pleasing and confusing the hell out of me. I didn’t want to admit that this guy had me tightly in his grip, but I couldn’t shake it. If I was his June Carter, he was my Johnny Cash—dangerous, unavailable, and addicting.

Oh, so addicting.

“We’re going out,” Louis announced, walking into my hotel room after I opened the door for him. “Put on your sluttiest dress and let’s go.”

I rolled my eyes and closed the door behind him, walking past to save my suitcase from his prodding. “We’ve been over this, Lou. As much as I love you, I’m not slutting up for you. It would make the other guys jealous.”

He winked at me and yanked out the first dress he found in my bag, tossing it onto the bed. “Fine, fine. That number will suffice, I suppose. Now were you planning on showering or did you just want to continue to glisten with the sweat provided by the spot light?”

I laughed and grabbed the dress he had picked out, a little black number that had served me well many a time before, and then disappeared into the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” I called through the door, slipping out of the jeans and shirt I had worn for the show.

I could hear him scoff. “Honey, please. The ladies all love a little grime on a man.”

I chuckled and hopped in the shower, lathering my hair with some of the complimentary shampoo. “Not on you, they don’t.”

He probably said more things, most likely verging on the inappropriate, but the water drowned out any and all comments when I stood underneath the spray. I knew if I took too long Louis would have no issue peeking through my bags for more personal things to tease me over later, so I sped through the conditioning and loofa-ing.

“Ugh, you women take forever,” he groaned when I finally emerged a little while later, fingers running through my damp hair. I just rolled my eyes at him and dug around for a suitable pair of heels. He watched in amusement as I almost toppled over trying to keep my balance as I slipped them on and leaned back on the bed.

“So, are you going to be disappearing again tonight?” he asked.

I glanced up as I adjusted the strap of my heel. “Again?”

He nodded and plucked at a thread on his sleeve. “Yeah. Lately you’ve been disappearing every time we go out. I see you for like the first round of drinks and then you’re just…gone.”

I scoffed, trying to will away the heat that was growing in my cheeks. “Are you sure you haven’t just been too drunk to notice me?”

He shook his head, eyes narrowed ever slightly in a judgmental observance. “Nah, I’ve been laying off the tequila.” He shuffled around on the bed, readjusting the way his palms held his weight. “So, who’s the guy?”

“What?” I stumbled as I finally managed to sort out my heels, reaching out to grip the bed and prevent myself from falling and flashing him.

He narrowed his eyes even more and bit his lips, darting his eyes over my face. “Unless it’s a different guy each time,” he pondered aloud, “in which case I applaud you. I didn’t think you had it in you, really.”

I raised an eyebrow at him in an effort to distract from the thudding of my heartbeat. “Are you still talking?”

He crossed his arms, shifting away from me but still in his pondering state. “I mean, it’s no secret how desirable you are, but c’mon—a different guy in three different cities three different nights? I know you’re hot, but even you aren’t that insatiable. And you definitely don’t just put out for randoms like that.”

I grabbed my clutch and shoved my phone and wallet into it, hoping it would encourage Louis to get up and get moving, preferably to a subject that didn’t involve my whereabouts the past three evenings. Because I couldn’t very well explain to Louis that my whereabouts had been the very same whereabouts as one Brendon Urie, in that we had escaped to the seclusion of our respective hotel rooms for heated kissing and games of Monopoly.

But Louis was right—I didn’t put out that easy, for randoms or anyone else.

“Are we leaving, or…?” I trailed off, turning back to glance at him with my fingers on the handle of the door. He sighed and hopped off the bed, following me out the door and down the hall to meet up with everyone else.

“I’m keeping an eye on you tonight,” he warned me as we approached a waiting Matt, Greg, and Teal. “It makes me worried when you vanish.”

I tried not to roll my eyes and instead wrapped my arms around one of his, nuzzling into his side as we walked. “My hero,” I fawned, raising my voice to an annoying octave to mimic some old-time fairytale. He just stuck his tongue out at me, tugging me closer as the guys from Panic! joined us.

Brendon raised his eyebrows at us, not seeming terribly pleased with the way I was pressed against my bandmate. I subtly detached myself from Louis’ grip, staying at his side and trying very hard to seem unimpressed with the general vicinity. With Teal on my other side, it wasn’t all that hard.

She glared at me, still displeased with me for my outburst last week, and sniffed the air. “God, Lizzie, you smell like an entire bottle of toilet water,” she said, pinching her nose and covering her mouth with dainty fingers.

“Actually, that’s me,” Louis grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulder despite her yelp of protest. “Love me some eau de toilette!”

She shivered and scurried away, hiding behind Matt’s shoulder. Matt, true to form, seemed oblivious to her discomfort, or really just to Teal in general. Maybe it was wrong of me to be happy he only kept Teal around for one reason, but—nah, it’s not even worth finishing that sentence.

“You guys ready?” Greg asked, directing the question more to Brendon and Kenny than to the rest of us. Such a man crush, I can’t even.

Kenny nodded, slapping Greg on the back so hard he winced. Serves him right. “Sure are. Dallon and Dan are sitting out tonight. But Bren and I are game.”

Greg nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Awesome. Let’s head out, then!”

“You look stunning,” Brendon mumbled to me on the way out. We lingered behind everyone else as usual; it was part of our plan to be left to catch a cab together and therefore have some innocent alone time.

I smiled in return, knowing better than to actually thank him; Greg’s ears seemed to constantly be trained on my voice. It was only when I was more than one hundred feet away that I was safe from his sonar hearing.

Brendon held the cab door open for me like a perfect gentleman. He made sure I was settled in my seat before giving our driver directions, and then subtly linked his fingers with mine where they lay on the seat between us, out of the cabbie’s line of vision.

“Louis has apparently noticed my disappearing,” I murmured, giving his fingers a squeeze and trying very hard to ignore the metal I felt rubbing against my pinkie.

“Did you invite him to game night?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “Tonight’s strip poker. I hope you’re prepared.” He laughed when I poked his side, snatching my hand up and pressing a small kiss to my palm. “Oh, relax. It’s just strip Go-Fish. No skill necessary.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, rolling my eyes. In truth, the extent of our affair had gone no further than some heated kissing; surprisingly he never made moves to grope or otherwise feel me, as if he were trying to prove sex wasn’t all he desired of me. The fact made things feel all the more ridiculously romantic—sneaking away simply just to have time with each other without the prying eyes of others, partaking in nothing more than various bondings that two strangers becoming friends would engage in.

He just giggled and glanced towards the cabbie, quickly bringing my hand up to his lips and pressing a swift kiss against the knuckles. “Calm down, buttercup.”

It was cute, but there was still a lurch in my stomach as he settled our hands back to their space on the seats between us. I still couldn’t shake that unsettling feeling of how wrong this was and of how I of all people should know better than to encourage an affair. But then his fingers tangled even more with mine and he flashed me a soft smile, and all the worries melted away into the back of my mind.

“God, you guys took forever!” Louis whined when we finally arrived, probably only moments after they had actually gotten there.

Brendon just laughed and urged me forward, subtly pressing his palm against my lower back as he helped me up the curb. “Sorry, man. First round’s on me,” he said. Louis’ eyebrows shot up and he grinned, evidently forgiving us for our tardiness.

As usual, the rest of the group dispersed once we made it in the club: Greg disappeared on the dance floor with some girl who had been at the show; Teal and Matt disappeared somewhere else doing Lord only knows what; and good old Kenny shimmied his way out with the best of them, showing the other dancers what was up. Louis remained at the bar with me and Brendon, enjoying the free beer, courtesy of Brendon, with a lazy smile.

“You know, Brendon,” he said at one point, his words beginning to become a little slurred. “I think this one—“ He jerked his head over at me. “I think she has a secret lover.”

Brendon choked on his beer and tried passing it off as a surprised chortle. “What’s that now?”

Louis nodded, the alcohol in his veins making his head bob a bit harder than necessary. “Dude, haven’t you noticed? She’s like all giggling and shit and keeps disappearing on us.” He narrowed his eyes at me and pointed a finger forward, leaning closer until it pressed against the tip of my nose. “If we aren’t careful, she could evaporate right now, in front of our very eyes!”

I sighed and shook my head, pushing his finger away. “How many have you had now?” I asked, glancing over at the bar, or really the numerous shot glasses scattered in front of him.

He scoffed and downed another one without a wince. “Not nearly enough. Why aren’t you having more? You and me, we’re a team with this!”

I chuckled, though if I’m perfectly honest I really wasn’t all that amused. Drunk people are only fun when you’re drunk, too. When I was sober I fucking hated drunk people. “I’ve gotta give my liver a break sometimes, don’t I?”

Louis spluttered, making some noise sounding like a mix between some kind of strangulation and indignation. “Whatever, Grigs.” He turned back to Brendon, eyes wide. “You see what I mean? Whoever this dickwad is has changed my Grigsby!” He glared at me again, and then glared past me. “I don’t like this man.”

I bit back my grin when I noticed Brendon’s wounded expression and instead thumped Louis on the back. “Would you calm down, Hook? There is no man, loser.” Brendon stuck his tongue out at me behind Louis’ back. I held back my smirk.

Louis didn’t appear too convinced, but his eyes kept wandering away. I knew he was done for the night, and as much as he like to try to argue he was concerned for my sexual well-being, he was naturally far more concerned with his own, and it looked like he had decided a blonde on the other side of the room could help with that for the night.

I nudged him in her direction, laughing at his exaggerated stumble. “Go to her, young one,” I said. “Go and make much sweet love.”

Louis hesitated, glancing between the girl and me as if he were actually really debating it in his head. Brendon wrapped an arm around my shoulder at the same time he clapped a hand to Louis’, giving him a reassuring wink. “I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise,” Brendon said. “She won’t be sneaking away with any randoms on my watch.”

It seemed to appease Louis, who grinned and toppled away towards the blonde. I prayed he would regain some of his suaveness by the time he got closer. Louis deserved more loving.

“You’re keeping an eye on me?” I questioned, turning to Brendon once Louis had disappeared among the crowd.

He nodded and spun me back towards the bar. “Oh, absolutely. I don’t want some random sweeping you off your feet. If anyone shall be doing that, dear girl, it will be me.”

I laughed and glanced back over in Louis’ direction, seeing him pressing a kiss to the girl’s hand as she giggled. “He always goes for the blondes,” I noted.

Brendon twirled his finger in my hair, cradling the soft strands in his grip as he subtly tugged me closer to his side. “Can’t say I blame him,” he said, leaning in and kissing my golden locks. “I’m pretty fond of blondes. Well, a blonde.” He grinned at me and bobbed his eyebrows. “Dude, what if he’s in love with you and just bangs other blondes as a coping mechanism?”

I laughed and shoved him off, letting my pinkie link with his as our hands fell by our sides. “Pretty sure that’s not happening,” I said.

He shrugged. “Weirder things have happened.”

I nodded and stuck my tongue out at him. “Yeah, like you wooing me over.”

His eyes lit up and his smile stretched across his cheeks wider than usual. “Does that mean I’ve successfully wooed you?” he asked.

I shrugged, letting myself fall into him as it became more crowded around us. “You’re on your way.”

What was perhaps the weirdest, however, was how we both always conveniently forgot he had already wooed another woman and won her. Or how I forgot I wasn’t a prize to be won, to quote a lovely Disney princess.

“You want to get out of here?” Brendon asked, breaking me from my trance as I watched the masses of bodies sway together on the dance floor. He smiled softly at me when my eyes locked onto his, and I felt my heartbreak quicken. Just his stare could send me into more of a cardiac arrest than the booming of the bass over the speakers.

“Where would we go?” I asked, remembering Dallon and Dan were back at the hotel. I didn’t want to give them a reason to raise their eyebrows if they saw us returning without the others.

He shrugged, and I couldn’t help but smile at how that had become our trademark. His eyes raked over the crowd before returning to mine, and I couldn’t help but admire how he kept his gaze firmly on my face, never once breaking away to glimpse at the shortness of my dress or the cleavage that came with it.

“We could go anywhere.”

--

One of the perks of living on the West Coast the majority of the year was that our winters were mild. We never had snow except in the mountains, and our winds never got terribly out of control. I felt so bad for the East Coast this particular winter. They had been hit hard; storms and storms of snow and ice that wouldn’t let up, except for rare teasing days of warmth that were quickly followed by unforgiving blizzards. I wasn’t sure how these people could live with winters like this.

I felt particularly sorry for myself as Brendon and I walked around town after leaving the club, wearing my tiny little dress with the heaviest winter coat wrapped around me that I could pack. I was sure by the time we got wherever we were going my legs would be a dull shade of blue, my toes would no longer exist, and my fingers would break off, leaving me unable to flip someone off ever again.

Brendon glanced over at me, his own hands buried deep in his coat’s pockets. “You okay there?” he asked. His shoulder brushed against mine, as close as we dared to stand in public, especially after a show.

I nodded, quickly negating that with a convulsing shiver that tore down my entire body. “It’s a little cold,” I conceded, glancing at the dim windows we passed, only slightly desperate for a glimpse of a place with a public heater.

Brendon chuckled. “We probably should have thought this through more,” he said, frowning at a dark window. “Everything’s closed.”

“Well, it is, like, one in the morning.”

“Touché.” He bit his lip, glancing over at me when he felt me shiver again. “Jesus, Elizabeth, you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” I tried saying, but instead it came out something more like, “Ahm f-f-f-fine.”

He rolled his eyes and stopped walking, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and tugging me into his chest. “Normally I’d agree with you, but I’m afraid in this moment I have to disagree.” He waved his free hand in the air, trying to hail a cab. “C’mon, let’s go.”

I didn’t hesitate in wrapping my arms around his waist as he led me to the curb. “W-w-where are we going?” I asked. It amazed me how I had a harder time talking when cold than when I was drunk.

“Back to the hotel,” he said. He shushed me when I tried protesting and instead gently pried me off of him to help me into the cab, scooting in next to me. I was surprised when his arm snapped back to its position around my shoulder once the cab started rolling, but pleasantly. I guess he decided me being warm was more important than any traces of indiscretion.

By the time we got back to our hotel, I was considerably thawed. My fingers could move comfortably again, though still felt slightly numb, and I could account for all my toes after some thorough wiggling-slash-attendance calling.

“Where are you going?” Brendon asked once we reached our floor. I had been taking off for my room, and he snatched my wrist up to stop me.

I looked back at him with a quizzical eyebrow. “I was going to go change into something warmer. Or at least put pants on.”

His eyes finally tugged away from their innocent spot on my face, trailing down my body and to my bare legs peeking out from my dress and coat. His lips curved up into the smirk I had grown to more-than-tolerate. “I’ll come with you,” he announced. I knew better by now than to fight him on it.

Once I was snuggled in some Mickey Mouse pajama bottoms and an old college sweatshirt and had reemerged from the bathroom, Brendon patted the space on the bed next to him, encouraging me to sit beside him. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Were you planning on staying here?” I asked, not entirely sure how I felt about the idea.

He shook his head with a laugh and a twinkle of his eye. “Not tonight, no,” he said. “But I was planning on lingering a while, if it’s okay with you.” When I still made no move to join him he pouted and leaned over, snagging up my wrists and tugging me onto the bed. I fell on my side next to him, and he laid back to face me with a smile.

“Does lingering translate to snuggling in the Urie language?” I joked. It felt so nice to have his fingers stroking my arm like they were—tickling up by my shoulder and gently trailing down to curve around my elbow before making their way back up until they rest on my back, pulling me closer until our chests touched.

“Oui, mademoiselle,” he chuckled, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. It was such an innocent gesture—nothing more than a desire to be a little closer—that in my mind I was able to argue that there was no harm in it, and convince myself that it was okay for me to enjoy it.

We laid there for a while, snug and content so long that I could feel myself drifting to sleep. The analog clock on the hotel nightstand blared the numbers 1-5-3, implying I should by all accounts be asleep right then, but Brendon had other ideas.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he mumbled into my skin. The vibrations from his voice made me jolt, nearly smacking my chin against the top of his head in surprise.

“What?”

Brendon chuckled and scooted up so our faces were level, arms still wrapped tightly around my middle. “I want to know more about you,” he said.

I yawned—right in his face, I might add, which we all know was quite an attractive act. “What do you want to know?”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Everything.”

I laughed and nuzzled my nose against his. “There’s no chance you’ll find out everything before I fall asleep. Start smaller.”

“Okay, fine. What’s your favorite color?”

I closed my eyes and scooted closer to him, rubbing my cheek against his chest. “Hmm, purple. You?”

“Usually blue. What did you want to do when you grow up?”

I chuckled. “Be a Disney princess. Every year I dressed up like a different one and told my parents that by the time I was in high school all the other little girls would be begging their parents to dress up like me.”

He laughed at that. “I can’t imagine that. You’re so…”

“I cuss a lot,” I laughed. “Not very princess-like.”

He shook his head. “No, not that. It’s just…you just seem tired of that whole ideal.”

I opened my eyes then, leaning back to get a better look at his face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not a bad thing. I mean, just looking at your lyrics alone—you’re a bit of a cynic, you know.” He shrugged and tried tugging me back onto his chest. “I don’t know, I guess I just don’t peg you for one of them happily-ever-after-chaser types.”

We got quiet then, and his words wafted around us until they sank into our skin as a painful foreshadowing of what would most likely come to be—namely, no happily-ever-after. He cleared his throat and decided to change the subject. “Any siblings?”

I nodded, not feeling any less ill at ease. “One sister. But we don’t really talk.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he leaned up on his elbow. “How come?”

“We just king of drifted after my parents got divorced.”

“When was that?”

“When I was ten.” I could feel the conversation taking yet another turn I wasn’t emotionally ready for and racked my brain desperately for a topic change. “When’s your birthday?”

He smirked down at me. “Come on, you can just Google that shit. Think of something more creative.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Okay, fine. How about…” I bit my lip, thinking hard, and finally came up with something, thinking of my favorite Disney movie. “If you could wish for anything in the world, just one thing, what would you wish for?”

His smile faltered a little and he looked down at the space between us in thought. “In all seriousness?” His fingers drifted to my cheek, and his thumb caressed the skin as if he were cradling a rose petal. I couldn’t get over how gorgeous his eyes were every time I could see them this close.

His lips were gentle when they brushed against mine, ghosting across them in a promise without pressing firmly against me, keeping me from falling into a hypnotic euphoria. When he pulled back, his eyes looked sad, and he offered me a soft smile.

“I would wish that I had met you years ago.”