Casual Affair

Brendon wasn’t there when I woke up the next morning, but, despite the pang in my chest, I reminded myself that I didn’t expect him to be. A part of me could still feel the tingle on my forehead where he most likely pressed a goodbye kiss before disappearing back to his room to avoid suspicion from the others, and I had to content myself with that tingle. It was already more than I deserved.

Despite the cold of the sheets on my naked body, chilled from last night’s sweat and tears, I could feel the warmth in my belly that only comes with happiness. Yes, he wasn’t there right then, but he had been there for a good portion of last night. Last night, I was his, he was mine, and it had been an experience I would never forget as long as I lived.

And the sex wasn’t half bad either.

I tried to keep that brightness in mind as I packed all of my things and dragged my bag out to our bus for our departure to our next city. Greg and Louis were both unsurprisingly hung-over, moaning and groaning about the unfairness of life as they dragged their asses up the steps of the bus. Matt was quiet, unusually so, and kept looking away every time he almost caught my eye. I was too tired to think much of it. Maybe he and Teal had a fight or something.

“Elizabeth!” It was a voice out of a dream, one that was both unfamiliar and yet more intimate than the creases of my palm. My head whipped in its direction and I instantly wished I had feigned deafness and just walked on the damn bus, wished that I could remain in ignorance for at least the three hour drive to the next venue, but alas.

Sarah grinned as she approached me, arms outstretched in a menacing approach of friendliness, and when she wrapped them around my shoulders I could feel myself shrink in her grasp. Her teeth nearly blinded me when she pulled back to smile at me, and I could feel her nails digging into my shoulders as she held me at arm’s length, taking me in, from the tangles at the nape of my neck to my swollen lips and the battered college sweatshirt to the bags under my eyes.

“You look great!” she smiled, and I could tell she genuinely meant it. She was too nice to be evil, even if she wasn’t positive she was all that fond of me.

I swallowed the lump that had grown in my throat during her embrace and offered my strongest smile. “Thanks! I didn’t know you were—when did you get in? You look fantastic.” And she did, damn her. Perfect manicure, perfectly placed curls, perfect make-up—just perfection personified.

She waved a hand, modestly brushing away my compliment, and I couldn’t help but love the little giggle that bubbled over her lips. It was just so happy and pretty, two things I definitely were not at the moment.

“Oh, I got in really late last night. Around the same time Brendon got back from the club. You guys must really know how to party—he was so sweaty! And so surprised. I’m glad you all are having fun.” The glint in her eyes told me she knew nothing of Brendon’s real late night shenanigans last night, and I dug deep into the recesses of my mind for those improv skills I prided myself on during high school to refrain from giving it away.

“The guys must have gone wild last night. I had an early night. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Her face blossomed into one of pure concern, perfect eyebrows lowering as her perfect lips pouted. “Oh no, are you okay? You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

Oh, nothing too serious. Just a small case of heart sickness, self-loathing, and a sprinkling of cheater’s disease, but stronger men than I have survived such things.

I smiled and shook my head. “Nothing too serious.”

She grinned and her hair tumbled over her shoulder when she looked away and back towards the Panic! bus. Brendon was walking towards us, one arm raised in calling that swiftly fell to his side when he noticed me standing next to Sarah. “Oh, hey,” he said, eyes darting uncertainly between the two of us. “Um, we’re getting ready to shove off.”

“Sounds good, baby,” Sarah said, turning back to me. “I told Brendon I just wanted to say hi to you guys before we got going. I guess everyone else is already on board?”

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from her baby blue eyes. Usually blue, he had said was his favorite color. I could understand why. “Yeah, the boys are all feeling a little rough after last night. They’ll probably be more personable later.”

She nodded and smiled again—always smiling—and patted my shoulder. “Alrighty, well, tell them I said hi! I’ll see you guys when we get there.”

I just nodded, my throat very dry. “Yeah, see you there.”

It was like she was a fucking Disney princess when she spun away, delicately prancing to the other bus and disappearing with a wave. I wouldn’t have been surprised if whatever random wildlife in New York City had congregated to wish her well on her journey. It would have just made sense.

Brendon lingered as she walked away, and I couldn’t help but notice the sudden reappearance of his wedding ring on his finger when he brushed back his hair. It was so fucking typical—lose it while you fuck the mistress and act like it was never gone once the wife is back.

“Look, I didn’t know she was coming,” he said quietly. “I mean, like, I knew she’d be joining up at some point, but last night—“

“No, yeah, definitely.” I glanced around the lot, looking anywhere but at his eyes.

I could see him try to reach out for me, but he held himself back. “Listen, Elizabeth, about last night…”

“We’ve gotta be getting going, don’t we?” I asked. I wasn’t so sure I could bear to hear him admit to last night being a mistake. I could already feel it in the air—I didn’t need to hear it, too. “Sarah’s waiting for you.”

He staggered back a little, like my interruption had thrown him off balance, but he recovered before I could look at him. “No, you’re right,” he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards his bus. He turned back to me, and his eyes looked pained. “Can I talk to you later? After the show?”

I couldn’t say no to that face; he was practically pleading, eyes wide and shining and lips trembling. So instead, I just shrugged and turned away, offering him a quick wave over my shoulder as I clambered onto my bus.

The bus was quiet when I finally crawled my way up the steps, feeling pitiful and ugly and like a home wrecking whore. It was almost too quiet—sure, the guys were most likely trying to sleep off whatever liquor they’d consumed the night before, but where was the annoying chattering? The indignant squeals? The feminine scolding for consuming too much alcohol?

“Where’s Teal?” I asked Matt, the only survivor of the previous night who was sitting on the couch, flicking his fingers over his phone in a game of Candy Crush.

“Huh?” He peeked up from his goal of bringing the ingredients to the bottom and glanced around, like he too had just noticed she was missing. “Oh, yeah. She caught a red eye home last night.”

I raised an eyebrow and plopped down next to him. He didn’t argue when I draped my legs over his lap. “How come?” I asked, once again shaking him from his candy trance.

“Hmm? Oh. ‘Cause we broke up,” he said, turning back to his phone and fist pumping when he finally beat the level.

I could hear noise on the bus now, only it wasn’t annoying, or loud. It was like angels singing, cheering in the sweetest of notes and rhythms more joyful than the Hallelujah chorus.

“You broke up?” I asked, and my chorus dimmed only a little, holding its breath for verification that the words were true.

“Yes, we broke up,” Matt sighed, verging on exasperation as he began a new level of his game.

The chorus became thunderous, and I wrapped my arms around Matt’s neck in an embrace, ignoring his irritated grumbling as I fell onto his lap. “I’m really sorry, but that just made my day,” I cried, pressing my face harder into the crook of his neck.

He just chuckled and patted my head, trying to ease me off of him to no avail. “You’re not sorry at all. You hated her.”

I shrugged and let him slide me back onto the couch next to him. “True, but I love you. Are you sad?”

He sighed and leaned back onto the couch, gazing up at the ceiling as he considered his words. “She gave good head,” he finally said, and turned back to his game. I knew that was all the mourning I would hear on the matter.

“Are you okay?” I asked, knowing it was probably my friend-duty to actually check into his well-being post-split rather than continue to throw a congratulatory party in my head.

“Are you?” he asked, glancing at me over the top of his phone. “I saw Sarah outside.”

I bit my lip and poked him with my toe. “You first.”

He sighed and set his phone to the side, rubbing his forehead as he wrapped his hand around my foot. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I mean, all things considered Teal is kinda a terrible person. She would bitch about you guys all the time and I would just tune her out. It’s really for the best. I just hate being lonely.”

I nodded. I knew the feeling.

He gave my foot a squeeze and smiled. “Your turn. Tell old Mattie all about it.”

One of the boys’ phones started blaring in the back, followed by an irritated groan and some kind of thump indicating it had been tossed out of the bunk. I stifled a laugh and turned back to Matt.

“Brendon came to my room last night,” I said, trying not to look Matt in the eye. “He said he was worried about me. And, well…”

“You had sex,” he said.

I could feel my cheeks flare up like the heat had just been turned up and nodded. “Pretty much.”

He sighed and rolled his head back. “Why would you do that, Grigsby?” he asked, sounding more exasperated than surprised or disappointed. “After I told you to stay away from him?”

I couldn’t very well tell him the reasoning—I was falling in love with Brendon Urie. It was too cliché and typical. Hell, it was just plain sad. So I thought about the other emotions that had run through my head at the time, the ones that had lingered behind the feelings of pure bliss and affection.

“I just hate being lonely,” I said.

The phone in the back rang again, and I could hear Greg curse and slide it up front near us. “Somebody fucking answer that shit,” he groaned, flicking the curtain to his bunk shut.

Matt rolled his eyes and hoisted it up, glancing at the screen. “If it’s your mother you owe me,
Champs,” he warned, swiping the screen and holding it up to his ear. “H’lo?” He didn’t blink when the voice respond on the opposite end, and for a minute it looked like someone had turned him off as he stared straight ahead like a run-down robot. After a minute he laughed. “Sorry Les, I was spacing. Whatcha need?”

Our publicist, Leslie Anderson, the one other person on our tours with a vagina who had been MIA the entirety of this testosterone infused shitbus. She was a decent enough kind of person, most of the time anyway, but kind of figured herself more important than she actually was. I guess once you deal with a highly profiled sex scandal one time you think you’re hot shit.

(And no, it was not a sex scandal involving me. I told you, Louis is fucking crazy.)

I could see Matt’s eyes glazing over again as he listened to whatever she was saying, nodding along more out of dozing off rather than paying attention to what she was actually telling him. The guys never paid attention to her over the phone; the only time any of them showed any remote interest in the woman was when she and her perky tits were present, and even then, the glazed looks still were present, just for a different reason.

I rolled my eyes and snatched the phone out of Matt’s grasp and pressed it to my ear, laughing at how the contact seemed to snap him out of some kind of trance. “Hey, Leslie,” I said. “Matt wasn’t paying attention so I figured it’d be prudent to intervene.”

She had that disappointed superior sigh down pat, and I could just picture her straining against the confines of whatever ridiculous tight shirt she was wearing as she struggled to regain a deep breath. “I figured as much. I started listing off the various things I wished he would do to me and still got no response.”

Holier than thou, maybe, but still the kind of woman you want to help with your publicity. I liked her.

“I’m surprised that didn’t snap him to attention,” I laughed, sending a pointed look towards Matt’s crotch to give him the idea that I was making a double entendre. He scowled and shyly pushed his hands over the small bulge in his jeans.

Leslie laughed. “You never know with that one. Anyway, I really was just calling in to touch base with you guys. Make sure there’s nothing going on I should be aware of should any journalists come knocking.”

I scoffed and threw my legs back up onto Matt’s thighs, trapping his hands against his crotch. “C’mon, Les, you know no one gives two shits about us. We’re fine.”

She tutted in that motherly way she liked, and I could almost see her perfectly manicured finger whipping at me. “Now, now, Elizabeth, that’s not true for a moment. The editor at Rolling Stone actually just called me the other day. Apparently they’re doing a piece on Panic! at the Disco and interviewing the boys towards the end of tour. They were wondering if you’d be interested in doing a smaller piece in the same issue.”

“You mean they don’t want us for the cover?” I teased. “What fucking pricks.”

She laughed again and I could hear her nails tapping against her desk. “You said it yourself, Grigsby—nobody gives a shit. But what do you say, wanna do it? It might not be the main article but you’re on tour with them so it’ll still be pretty significant all things considered.”

I bit my lip and looked around at my bandmates: Matt, still struggling with freeing his hands from under my legs; Louis, tumbling out of his bunk with his mouth wide open and a nice river of drool trailing down his cheek; and Greg, dear sweet Greg, whose ass was hanging out of his bunk but luckily was still mostly covered by his boxers. What a beautiful bunch of people.

“Sure, we’ll do it,” I said. “Do you know what day?”

“Not yet, but I’ll call you as soon as I sort the details,” she said. “Hopefully I’ll know by the end of the week. But you know editors. They take their times unless they deem it important.”

“Tell her me and Teal broke up,” Matt whispered. “Grigsby. Grigsby, tell her me and Teal—“

“Matt said he is interested in fucking you and he and Teal just broke up,” I said, laughing at the look of absolute mortification that spread across his face.

Leslie cackled on the other line, reminding me that while her tits may be cute, her laugh was not. “What a sweetheart he is. Well, I’m sorry for his loss and I’ll be sure to make a note of that. So if anyone asks what happened—?”

“Just tell them she’s a bitch,” I shrugged. Matt looked like he was about to argue and then remembered he didn’t have to pretend to be offended anymore. With a shrug he sank back onto the couch and resumed his candy crushing.

Leslie giggled. “I’ll direct quote you on that one. Okay lady, keep in touch.”

I threw Greg’s phone back towards the bunks, wincing when I heard it slap against his ass and the quick yelp that followed. “There’s your phone back,” I giggled.

“You’re such a bitch,” Greg groaned.

“So ready to talk more about it?” Matt asked, peeking up from his phone.

Greg and Louis were starting to stir in the back, and as much as I loved them I wasn’t so sure I wanted everyone on the bus to know what a sucker I was. Besides, Sarah was here now. Nothing else was going to happen. It had been a short lived fling that had to die out at some point, and it might as well have ended now.

“About what?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing.”