Vegas Boys

Despite the fact that I was now quite sure that all my new "friends" at school were only interested in me for my father's money, I still sat with the same group of girls at lunch. I didn't know what else to do: I hadn't made any other friends yet, and the cheerleaders were eager enough to accept me, no matter their motives. For the most part, I just felt confused and uneasy. I had never been "popular" at my old school, and felt utterly ill-equipped to fit the description; everyone else was probably much more aware of Dad's financial success than I was, but still, I was surprised that they would even be seen with me.

We had already moved on to the discussion of The Hills before lunch was even halfway over, and I was just starting to get a little bored when suddenly the two girls sitting across from me, who had been chattering away animatedly, fell silent. Suddenly, all sets of smiling eyes were focused on a point somewhere behind me, and I twisted around in my seat to see none other than Matt the quarterback grinning down at me.

"Can I sit here?" he asked me, but he was already pulling up a chair from another table anyway. Shelby, the girl sitting to my right, began scooting away obediently to give him room, but I was too startled to realize I should probably do the same.

"So, ladies," said Matt, folding his thick arms behind his head and stretching out, "how are you this fine day?" He gave them a cheesy grin and a wink, meaning to be sarcastic, and they all giggled.

"How's Kelsey?" he asked, turning to me specifically.

"She's okay," I replied.

He let out a short bark of laughter, and I squirmed a little uncomfortably as his gaze slid down to a point far below my face. "I like your shirt," he told me, smiling wryly. "It really brings out your eyes."

"Um...thanks." There was an amused undertone to his voice, but his words still made me uneasy. I stared down at the instant mashed potatoes on my lunch tray to escape his attention, pushing the unnatural mush into a volcano formation with my plastic fork. I wished he would leave already.

And then, out of nowhere, the dreaded question: "So, hey, what are you doing Friday?"

"Me?" I asked, taken aback and secretly hoping that I was mistaken.

"Yeah," he laughed.

"Um--well--actually, I'm kind of busy," I lied. I don't know where the foresight came from, but I was suddenly sure he was about to ask me out. It was obvious that all the other girls were falling all over themselves for him, but I didn't want him--not at all. He was the last thing I needed...or wanted, for that matter.

"Oh." He looked as crestfallen as a guy with his kind of ego could. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go hit some clubs or something. I thought I could, you know, show you around the city, since you're new and all. But maybe some other time."

"Yeah," I agreed, none too enthusiastically. "Some other time."

He muttered something about how he needed to talk to someone and got up and left. I watched him go, letting out a sigh of relief. I was safe--for now, at least.

-----

The week passed quickly and uneventfully.

We had almost three weeks left before our partner assignments in Drama were due, but Mrs. Christenson spent every spare moment we had in class nagging us about it. Each time she mentioned it, I felt my insides twisting with something like the feeling of impending doom, and quickly pushed those thoughts away.

But Brendon, too, was relentless. He spent the walk to and from school badgering me about it, offering suggestion after suggestion--all of which I ignored. We had to present a piece of prose to the class, in which both of us had to have equal speaking parts. Brendon kept telling me that he had found plenty of good choices, but that if we didn't decide on one and claim it soon, someone else would, and we would be stuck with something stupid. I kept telling him that I would think about it later and that I didn't really care that much either way; then I would ask him if he really had nothing better to do than sit around and worry about this assignment before suggesting sarcastically that he spent some of that time looking for a life instead.

Business as usual.

Friday was no different from any other day so far, except maybe for the fact that I was a lot more tired and thus more easily annoyed. I should have been looking forward to the weekend, but I was feeling strangely restless, and I couldn't help but think that, with nothing to do and no true friends to do it with, I would just be bored anyway.

Brendon, on the other hand, was far more excited than he really had any right to be.

"Can I ask you a question?" I snapped irritably after putting up with his energetic rambling for several minutes on the way home.

"Shoot." He grinned jauntily at me in a challenge.

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No. Not even when I sleep," he replied matter-of-factly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot." It sounded so different coming from me--slathered with heavy layers of dull reluctance.

He hardly noticed or cared, though; he was going on brightly, if sarcastically, "Do you ever have fun?"

For a moment, I thought I could feel my heart break a little.

"Yes," I said, bitingly, trying to hide my pain with annoyance. It shouldn't have been that bad, but I knew, deep down, that it was the truth--and that hurt.

"I don't believe you," said Brendon. We had stopped walking. He was being serious now, frowning--or maybe it was just the sun. Yes, that was it. He was joking, it was just the sun.

"I have fun," I insisted, but my voice sounded unsure, even to me. I felt myself biting my lip, like I always did when I was upset about anything.

Brendon snorted a little, and suddenly everything was fine again--he was joking, it was okay. "Sure, you do," he said skeptically.

"I have lots of fun!" I exclaimed, turning on my heel and walking off.

Like always, he hurried to catch up with me again. "Prove it," he challenged, his dark eyes narrowing wickedly.

"What do you mean?" I grunted, turning away from his intense gaze.

"Prove it," he repeated. "Go out with me tonight and I'll show you real fun."

"Oh, really?" I snorted at him this time. "You think so?"

"Just wait. You'll see," said Brendon, smirking.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed.

"See, I knew you'd say no!" he declared triumphantly. "I knew you wouldn't go, because you know you're wrong--"

"You're wrong," I corrected him stubbornly.

"No, I'm right," he insisted. "And you know it. You're afraid to admit that you're wrong, and that's why you won't go out with me tonight--"

"Well, maybe I will, then! Maybe I will go out with you, how about that?!" I half-shouted at him, too occupied with arguing with him to realize what I was saying.

But Brendon knew exactly what I was saying.

"Fine!" he yelled back, playing along.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

As I gave him the finger, glaring, and turned to hurry up the front walk to my house, he called after me, "I'll pick you up at seven!"

I stopped in my tracks and glanced back over my shoulder at his triumphant smirk, and I felt the color drain from my face as I realized that Brendon Urie, Arch Nemesis Number One, had just asked me out on a date.

And I had accepted.