“Yeah, well,” he said, breathless already, "You're wrong." He bent down and kissed me lightly, which lit up sparks of electricity. I wonder if he could feel it.
I come to my hotel room, hoping Brendon and I don’t have a room together.
We’re naturally going to have to see each other in shows, but I’m hoping we don’t see each other much other than those times. Knowing my luck, I would probably be roomed with him.
I bumped into someone while being in my own world, thinking of Brenny, who was still out with Spencer and Jon getting drunk.
I look up to see all 5 feet, 9 inches of sexy Brendon, with amazing chocolate brown eyes, and soft, dark brown hair.
Or I thought he was still at the bar with them...
How I know how soft his hair is...
Well, let’s just say one of the best moments in my life was making out with him, last night in my bunk on the way to Chicago.
"Heyy..." he dragged out the word awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
"Why are you in this room?" I asked sharply, afraid we were going to share a room.
I’ve been excited since I heard we were going to sleep in a hotel instead of on the bus, but everything good has a price.
"This is where I’m sleeping too." He gestured to the bed, raising an eyebrow.
"We're in the same room," I stated flatly.
"Uh... yeah... about last night," he started, drawing himself from the conversation we were having, not knowing what to say. "It was, well..."
He was taking too long to say the hurtful words.
“Was a mistake,” I said instead of him, “And you regret it. And you think I should forget it ever happened. Got it.”
I started unlocking the door to the room we were sharing.
“You think, I regret kissing you like that?” he asks, surprised. “That I regret being up against you?”
He suddenly grabbed my hand from the silver door-handle and pushed me up against the wall, next to the creme door.
“Yes,” I said confidently.
Then again... he was pushed up against me right now, with my back against the wall, where we wouldn’t be interrupted because it was two in the morning, and no one was going to come back to the hotel this late.
Spencer and Jon were still out, and probably weren't going to come back for another two hours. We were in a position where he could easily kiss me.
Scratch that... he could easily fuck me, and I’d happily take that chance. Fuck waiting to be ready... I’ve already had to break up with a girl because she couldn’t wait for me to be ready, so she fucked my ex-best friend, Brent.
I’m over not being ready now that Brendon’s here. Trapping me against a wall in a hotel. At two in the morning.
Actually, I was over not being ready last night, in my bunk, with him pushing me against the wall there.
“Yeah, well,” he said, breathless already, "You're wrong."
He bent down and kissed me lightly, which lit up sparks of electricity.
I wonder if he could feel it.
He looked up for a few seconds, looking into my eyes, and my eyes quickly flitted down, not meeting his gaze.
He bent down a second time, this time more intimate.
His lips were rough on mine, yet still soft, and he was out of breath. One of his hands went to my waist, the other took my wrist closest to the door and trapped it against the wall, seeing I was still trying to get in the room.
I started raising my other arm to put it around his neck when I heard the elevator's 'ding,' telling us someone was coming onto our floor. I quickly pulled my arms back down, hitting them against the wall, cursing.
Brendon, who heard it as well, or course, snapped his head up, and took his arms off me. he was still trapping me, but not as tightly. His arms were each about a quarter foot away from me, against the wall. We were both staring at Spencer and Jon, half terrified, half wanted to continue and ignore the fact they’re watching us.
"Woah, B!" Spencer called, and I could tell he wasn’t very surprised.
He called Brendon ‘B’. Brendon’s mine. Only I can call him ‘B’!
Ah, fuck. I was claiming Brendon. That’s so not a good sign.
This doesn’t mean anything. He’s still going to say we’re not able to be together later. He’s just a tease to me, and I’m not good enough for him.
I noticed Spencer and Jon holding hands, but when my eyes drifted to their hands together, they quickly detached their hands from one anothers.
Taking the chance, I slipped out of Brendon’s trap and ducked into the room.
I sat on the one bed that Ryan and I would have to share.
It was fluffy, black, and had a million white pillows.
I layed back comfortably against them, waiting for Ryan to get out of the shower. The bathroom door was open, steaming up the whole apartment, making it smell like him.
He didn’t spell like anything specific, like Axe, or even sweet like sugar.
He smelled like Ryan.
It made me think of the way we made out a few nights ago.
It was perfect.
His pretty lips were light-pink from not eating much, but still soft.
His messy coffee colored hair was sticking up into his ryhawk.
His stomach was practically non-existent, but toned and fit nonetheless.
He was so fucking adorable, and I had the pleasure of pushing him up against a wall and kissing him, with his soft stomach under my hands.
It was so tempting just to go in there and shower with him.
We could make sweet love in there, before moving to the bed. In the bed, we'd make love all night and sleep till noon cuddled up in a ball, naked together. In the morning we’d order chocolate covered strawberries, after getting in white robes, and feed them to each other.
It was hard just laying there, waiting for him. I wanted to do something... anything.
He came out in a white bathrobe, with his hair sticking up adorably in every direction. He passed, not noticing me, and picked up the phone, probably to order something.
He turned to plop onto the bed, like me, jumping when he finally noticed me. Oh, god...
He looked HOT.
His eyeliner was a bit runny from the shower, but it just looked smudged, making his beautiful eyes look bigger than his usually big eyes.
This is me, too dumbfounded for words, calling him just hot. Calling him hot is a damn insult. He’s so much more than merely 'hot.’ He was way past ‘hot.’
“I - uh...” he stuttered.
“Hi,” I mumbled, not knowing what to say, before we heard a knock on the door.
I jump up, and throw my legs over the side of the bed, hurrying to get to the door, but Ryan got there before I could get off the bed.
“Here sir.” A man in a suit gave Ryan a beer from a black cart.
He snatched it eagerly and took a swig.
“Thank you,” he stated, before starting to close the door on the man. “Wait!” I jump up, again. “Can I have a Stella Artois?”
Just then, Ryan’s phone rang out: “oh oh ooh kiss me, beneath the milky twilight...”
He skipped around the bed to answer the phone.
“Hey, Spencer.” he squirmed in his bathrobe under my stare.
“Oh god... yeah I’m coming...” He hurriedly took the clothes he’d laid out carefully on the bed, and went to change, swearing under his breath about not being able to do his make-up.
I followed him as he grabbed a scarf and ran through the hallway to the room Jon and Spencer were sharing.
Meanwhile, I noticed his hair had stuck up into his normal ryhawk and his caramel eyes looked like liquid caramel even though he hadn't spent half an hour on his eye make-up. It took a lot to try not to think about how goddamn pretty his eyes were.