Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Pickup Lines
Pickup Lines
8 reviews"Have you ever picked up a girl who wasn't won over by a smile and a line?"
5Original
"Hey, Cupid called. He said he needed my heart back." That was his pick-up line. This guy has been giving me "alluring stares" the entire evening, and apparently my trying to figure where exactly I recognized his face from was misconceived on his behalf as an invitation to join me at the bar. He sat down in the seat to my right and I chuckled at his attempt. Funny, I couldn't peg him from his face, but the moment he opened his mouth I knew his identity.
"Brendon Urie called, he wants his overused pick-up line back." I retorted sharply, enjoying the curiously cocked eyebrow he was giving me. I would think he was adorable and charming. I would think he was God's gift to me sent equipped with a quite striped hoodie, dork glasses and puppydog eyes to kill. But Brendon had been a jerk since junior high, and the fact that he just tried to use a line on me from junior high, I wasn't buying it. I added with a sarcastic squint, "Personally, I'd like it if he took it back, too."
The conversation was hard to hear because of the large amounts of tiny girls dancing like nothing I would feel comfortable describing, and the music blasting and bumping with no regard to my eardrums. I felt out of place in the club with flashing blue lights, but I had been stood up and somehow felt obligated to get a drink. I probably wouldn't have liked someone who wanted to go on a date in one of these clubs anyway. Regardless of all, it was nice to see a familiar face. Even if he was a one I wasn't fond of.
He chuckled and nodded oddly in time with the music, "Fair enough, fair enough.... You always played-hard-to-get, Jenna." I exhaled sharply, and tilted my head to my right and stared into his eyes. They were gorgeous, I'd give him that. He was gorgeous, I'd have to give him that as well. I figured that witty banter was obviously the only real option for this conversation. "I don't think saying no to, 'Are you from Tennessee, because you're the only ten I see.' in eighth grade counts as hard-to-get."
"Hey," he smiled playfully and replied with a shrug, "That was an awesome line. It has served me well over the years. Just because it didn't work on Miss Jenna Braxton doesn't mean it never worked." I was midway through a sip of my drink, and almost began choking. "When has that line ever worked on any girl?"
Next, a smirk swept on to his face and he said through his pride a simple, "Observe."
He slid out of his perch next to me, and disappeared into a sea of bodies dancing. He approached a dainty blond with visible, dark brown roots. The girl was wearing what I assume was her attempt at a skirt, but really looks like someone just bought hot pink duct tape and wrapped it around her ridiculously small frame (damn, that would hurt to get off). He smiles charmingly, she smiles drunkenly. I can't hear over the new dance-pop-techno-whatever track they are blasting, but I do see his pink lips form the forbidden words. She laughs, and I suggest to the bartender she be cut off. A few minutes later, Brendon successfully returns with a napkin and a number written on it in bubblegum pink eyeliner. He smugly puts the napkin down on the bar, puts his index finger down on the napkin and slid it over to me triumphantly.
"Wow, you aim high. Have you ever walked out of a bar with a quality girl?" I asked proddingly. He stuck out his bottom lip slightly as he always did when he was thinking, a face which I had seen many times during Geometry tests. "Depends on your definition of quality...."
"Have you ever picked up a girl who wasn't won over by a smile and a line?"
"I have had to use more than one on occasion. Usually the combination of," he transformed his voice down a few notes to sound extra creepy, "'You must be a broom, because you have swept me off my feet.' and 'You're so hot, I bet it's you causing global warming.' Those usually do the trick."
As repulsed by the deadly lines as I was, I was struck by the question. If he had never met a girl that had some potential, "You are twenty-two like me, right?"
"Yeah..."
"How long was your longest relationship?"
He paused and his little bottom lip stuck out again. I had a seven month relationship, that didn't end well. And I had one that lasted three month, straight out of high school. Maybe it was only a thing ladies could do, but the fact that Brendon had to truly rack his brain for the longest? He comes back into his senses with a meek answer of 'I don't actually know.' My eyes widened and held tilted as I mumbled a repetition of what he said. I ruffled through my purse and pulled out some bills to cover our combined tab, nodded to the bartender and turned to Brendon. "You are coming home with me." I said sternly.
"I am?!" He exclaimed with a hint of excitement and confusion in his voice. My facial reaction told him what he was thinking wasn't going to happen, and he slunk down slightly into the chair. "I am going to teach you how to be a man." I stated, and he sat straight back up again, quick to defend himself.
"Woah, I do not need any help in the," he said with air quotes, "'man' department!" He turned away from me and towards the bar, like we were toddlers and he didn't get his way. I sighed and responded, "Bren, I am not questioning the 'man' department," I said, which at least got a smirk and confidant nod from Mr. Ego. "I am questioning the gentleman department." He nodded, and agreed to come with me back to my place to learn. It was only eleven o'clock, so we had some time.
As we began to exit the boppy club, a rush of fresh air (well, as fresh as you can get in a major urban area) blew past us as we paced the dark parking lot looking for Brendon's car. When we came upon the sleek Honda Civic, he pulled open his door and entered the car. Meanwhile, I stood outside the passengar side door, shivering in my skinnies and drapy teal top. He just stared at me from inside the car. And I crossed my arms as a sign that I could wait here all night if I had to. After a few moments of this, he got out of the car and asked simply, "Uh, what the hell, Jenna?" I just blinked down at my door handle, and said, "Well, obviously now that you are going to be a gentleman, you are going to open my car door." Apathetically, he closed his door, and walked around to my side of the car while saying, "You know that you aren't technically my date. You could have just told me for future reference rather than made me do it. I mean, if you were my date I would have kissed you by now..."
"Just open the door, freshman. You haven't earned your diploma yet."
Authors Note
This is just a little one-shot that I decided to split up into two parts, so I hope you enjoyed reading the first. Much love goes out to my beta (she is awesome) and anyone who rates and reviews. Plus: if you have any good pickup lines (or totally ridiculous ones, those work, too) it would be much appreciated. Love, Elle.
"Brendon Urie called, he wants his overused pick-up line back." I retorted sharply, enjoying the curiously cocked eyebrow he was giving me. I would think he was adorable and charming. I would think he was God's gift to me sent equipped with a quite striped hoodie, dork glasses and puppydog eyes to kill. But Brendon had been a jerk since junior high, and the fact that he just tried to use a line on me from junior high, I wasn't buying it. I added with a sarcastic squint, "Personally, I'd like it if he took it back, too."
The conversation was hard to hear because of the large amounts of tiny girls dancing like nothing I would feel comfortable describing, and the music blasting and bumping with no regard to my eardrums. I felt out of place in the club with flashing blue lights, but I had been stood up and somehow felt obligated to get a drink. I probably wouldn't have liked someone who wanted to go on a date in one of these clubs anyway. Regardless of all, it was nice to see a familiar face. Even if he was a one I wasn't fond of.
He chuckled and nodded oddly in time with the music, "Fair enough, fair enough.... You always played-hard-to-get, Jenna." I exhaled sharply, and tilted my head to my right and stared into his eyes. They were gorgeous, I'd give him that. He was gorgeous, I'd have to give him that as well. I figured that witty banter was obviously the only real option for this conversation. "I don't think saying no to, 'Are you from Tennessee, because you're the only ten I see.' in eighth grade counts as hard-to-get."
"Hey," he smiled playfully and replied with a shrug, "That was an awesome line. It has served me well over the years. Just because it didn't work on Miss Jenna Braxton doesn't mean it never worked." I was midway through a sip of my drink, and almost began choking. "When has that line ever worked on any girl?"
Next, a smirk swept on to his face and he said through his pride a simple, "Observe."
He slid out of his perch next to me, and disappeared into a sea of bodies dancing. He approached a dainty blond with visible, dark brown roots. The girl was wearing what I assume was her attempt at a skirt, but really looks like someone just bought hot pink duct tape and wrapped it around her ridiculously small frame (damn, that would hurt to get off). He smiles charmingly, she smiles drunkenly. I can't hear over the new dance-pop-techno-whatever track they are blasting, but I do see his pink lips form the forbidden words. She laughs, and I suggest to the bartender she be cut off. A few minutes later, Brendon successfully returns with a napkin and a number written on it in bubblegum pink eyeliner. He smugly puts the napkin down on the bar, puts his index finger down on the napkin and slid it over to me triumphantly.
"Wow, you aim high. Have you ever walked out of a bar with a quality girl?" I asked proddingly. He stuck out his bottom lip slightly as he always did when he was thinking, a face which I had seen many times during Geometry tests. "Depends on your definition of quality...."
"Have you ever picked up a girl who wasn't won over by a smile and a line?"
"I have had to use more than one on occasion. Usually the combination of," he transformed his voice down a few notes to sound extra creepy, "'You must be a broom, because you have swept me off my feet.' and 'You're so hot, I bet it's you causing global warming.' Those usually do the trick."
As repulsed by the deadly lines as I was, I was struck by the question. If he had never met a girl that had some potential, "You are twenty-two like me, right?"
"Yeah..."
"How long was your longest relationship?"
He paused and his little bottom lip stuck out again. I had a seven month relationship, that didn't end well. And I had one that lasted three month, straight out of high school. Maybe it was only a thing ladies could do, but the fact that Brendon had to truly rack his brain for the longest? He comes back into his senses with a meek answer of 'I don't actually know.' My eyes widened and held tilted as I mumbled a repetition of what he said. I ruffled through my purse and pulled out some bills to cover our combined tab, nodded to the bartender and turned to Brendon. "You are coming home with me." I said sternly.
"I am?!" He exclaimed with a hint of excitement and confusion in his voice. My facial reaction told him what he was thinking wasn't going to happen, and he slunk down slightly into the chair. "I am going to teach you how to be a man." I stated, and he sat straight back up again, quick to defend himself.
"Woah, I do not need any help in the," he said with air quotes, "'man' department!" He turned away from me and towards the bar, like we were toddlers and he didn't get his way. I sighed and responded, "Bren, I am not questioning the 'man' department," I said, which at least got a smirk and confidant nod from Mr. Ego. "I am questioning the gentleman department." He nodded, and agreed to come with me back to my place to learn. It was only eleven o'clock, so we had some time.
As we began to exit the boppy club, a rush of fresh air (well, as fresh as you can get in a major urban area) blew past us as we paced the dark parking lot looking for Brendon's car. When we came upon the sleek Honda Civic, he pulled open his door and entered the car. Meanwhile, I stood outside the passengar side door, shivering in my skinnies and drapy teal top. He just stared at me from inside the car. And I crossed my arms as a sign that I could wait here all night if I had to. After a few moments of this, he got out of the car and asked simply, "Uh, what the hell, Jenna?" I just blinked down at my door handle, and said, "Well, obviously now that you are going to be a gentleman, you are going to open my car door." Apathetically, he closed his door, and walked around to my side of the car while saying, "You know that you aren't technically my date. You could have just told me for future reference rather than made me do it. I mean, if you were my date I would have kissed you by now..."
"Just open the door, freshman. You haven't earned your diploma yet."
Authors Note
This is just a little one-shot that I decided to split up into two parts, so I hope you enjoyed reading the first. Much love goes out to my beta (she is awesome) and anyone who rates and reviews. Plus: if you have any good pickup lines (or totally ridiculous ones, those work, too) it would be much appreciated. Love, Elle.
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