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Maybe not. But it sure as hell seemed like it. I swear I must have stopped at every traffic light and gotten flagged down at every intersection by the road construction crew with their orange 'slow down' signs. It didn't help the fact that I was already late by any means. I'm just surprised that I didn't get a speeding ticket with the way I was hurrying to work.

Honestly, I hate where I work. It's a small grocery store of sorts set in the middle of nowhere. I basically get paid to sit around, label cans, and "clean up on aisle seven." Not exactly the most interesting place to spend your time.

Thankfully, I made it to the depot. I walked through the automatic sliding doors and let out a breath.

"Where the hell have you been? You're almost two hours late!"

I jumped from the sudden loud noise and turned to face the manager.

"Sorry. I-"

"You know what? I don't even want to hear it. You better be lucky you're my friend or else your ass would be fired."

I smiled. It's true. I probably would have been fired ages ago if not for the fact that my best friend held the managerial position in this crap hole.

"Thanks Amanda." I smiled.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah...hey, you better hurry up, clock in, and get busy, 'cause you know that rush will be coming in any minute."

"What rush 'Manda? The old couple that comes in every day at exactly 10:23 on the dot?" I blurted out adjusting the pin on my work shirt.

She shook her head and dived back into her office without a word. I laughed silently and began my day while practically every other employee took a smoke break behind the dumpsters. Not that I minded of course. Just the smell of smoke makes me gag.

"Hahaha! Don't do it! Put me down Brendon, you fucking ass! Haha!"

Okay, I totally just lost my train of thought. What was that?

I walked down the aisles peering down the perfectly lined shelves. I stopped dead in my tracks at the entrance of the candy aisle. I was in plain view of a hyper Jon Walker stuffing bags of marshmallows down his shirt with Spencer Smith leaning against one of the shelves viewing the entire spectacle of Ryan Ross being pushed in a cart by Brendon Urie. Yep, you heard right, Brendon Urie: The sole reason for my shower daydream. I guess that puts wet dream in a whole new literal sense, doesn't it? Unfortunately though, that moment of eureka came just as a cart was targeted right at me.

Brendon's eyes grew wide as he realized just where the cart was headed. "Oh shit!" He yelled as he pulled back on the shopping cart.

Ryan was sent careening out of the cart due to the abrupt stop and crashed right into the cereal display. I ran over to find him laughing his ass off in the pile of sugar-coated flakes that now newly carpeted the floor.

"Are you okay?" I asked as he shook the cereal from his soft mahogany hair.

Taking my outstretched hand, he nodded. "Thanks."

"No prob."

"Dude, that was awesome!" Brendon yelped.

Jon and Spencer came running to our position, dropping the marshmallow packages behind them.

"Damn." Jon said surveying the mess of chaos filtering the floor after he had come to a halt.

Spencer placed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault." I said.

"You're right." He agreed. "It's Brendon's."

"WHAT?" Brendon shrieked throwing his hands up.

"Well, let's see..." Spencer reasoned, putting a finger up to Brendon's purple hooded chest. "YOU were the one pushing the cart. Cart plus super flying Ry equals your fault, dude."

"That's so gay." He muttered under his breath.

"What a coincidence. So are you!" Jon pointed out in jest.

Brendon rolled his eyes.