"I think we have passed the awkward line." He said with raised eyebrows, and I acknowledged the fact that yes, awkwardness shouldn't be an issue. Great, now the fun begins.
The red rush in his cheeks was heard easily in his voice. "What, uh, notebook?" While he nervously ran his fingers through his hair I held the smug smile on my face and dug around underneath his seat. "I have a brother. The black notebook where you copy down all the numbers you get from chicks. I know you have one, Urie." He sighed and I continued to feel around his back seat, when my hand ran across some fabric, and I whipped my arm back in disgust.
"Please, Brendon. Please tell me that was not what I think it was." I said in disbelief. I grabbed a pen from the cupholder to my left, and reached back in, hooking the cap to the g-string of one very lacy pair of womens underwear. With leopard print. And glitter. I held it as far away from my body as I possibly could in his tiny car, and brought it toward the front seat, in very close proximity to his cheek.
He cought a glance of them out of the side of his eyes, and the blush in his seat skyrocketed to a intense shade of red. His hand tightened slightly on the wheel and his neck kept turning from the underwear to the wheel, and his words were stammered, studdered and all run together.
"Oh my, er. Well, uh. Uhm. They'r- no." He continued, with the common sounds of embarassement until he blurted, "They aren't mine!"
The laughter spilled out of my mouth as soon as the words fell from his. The mental image was coming like a freight train, unstoppable. Brendon. Girl panties. Not the particular image I wanted plastered to my brain for the next week and a half. With an obvious chuckle I said, "I wasn't implying they were yours. Unless, these are the reason you don't have a steady girl..." My joking prods were enough when he said with an attempt at an even tone. "I will give you twenty dollars to take the underwear out of my personal space."
"I don't want your money." I said, retracting my the panties from his blushing cheek. Then an, idea hit and I thrust my arm back out, "On the other hand, I do want your notebook."
Once we approach a stop light, he reaches underneath his seat and retrieves a black, spiral bound notebook, and I fling the underwear off of the pen into the back seat. He hands me the notebook, defeated, but at least not within spitting distance of a leopard g-string. I laughed, "That was a very good hiding place. I think it would be a little awkward to just reach between your legs."
"You just held a sparkly, leopard print thong in my face. I think we have passed the awkward line." He said with raised eyebrows, and I acknowledged the fact that yes, awkwardness shouldn't be an issue. Great, now the fun begins.
"Plus," he added. "I have no idea why you are so fascinated with the damn notebook. Nothing important is in there."
His warning was too late, because I had already began to flip through the pages. In the same scrawly handwriting that I remembered faintly, there were phrases and paragraphs jotted down in no particular order throughout the first part of the notebook. I ran my fingers over some of the circled ones, and kept reading amazing little lines. I was about to inquire when Brendon said, "They're lyrics. Nothing good, or anything. I am better at the music than the words and stuff."
I was in awe, to say nothing less. My finger kept flipping through the pages and reading great lyrics. It's impossible for me to comprehend. This guy, the jerkface from highschool, has more to him than that. And lines like, "Did it hurt?" "Did what hurt?" "When you fell from heaven." could be compared to, "Raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses. It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses." Could he be....?
"Who is Dana?" I asked with a breathless voice.
"No clue," was his response. He was airy and unassuming. "Why, is there a lyric mentioning her name? Because I don't write all of them. My friend Ryan does-" he stopped dead as he caught the look I was giving him and mumbled profanity.
"There must be at least twenty girls names and numbers in the back of this notebook!" I fumed. I wasn't mad at him. I should have expected it. I was disappointed at myself because I should have expected it. But still he said as a safety net, "Don't be angry."
I smirked and retorted, "I'm not angry. Now I'm motivated."
I know this was supposed to be just two parts, but I figured since you all are SO AMAZING and got this tiny little ficlet of mine GREEN, I would take what I had and post it a little early. ;) To be honest, I can't be happier and more shocked at the great response. Thank you to all my reviewers (and even the lurkers who didn't review, you know who you are) and even more thanks to Paige, my beta. She is awesome and I love her. Rate, review and keep reading. One more part left! I mean it this time!