Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > At Least He Makes Me Forget...

Chapter 8

by Gangsta_Girl 6 reviews

"Raquel! Wait!" A voice shouted, accompanied by accelerated footsteps. I didn't even need to turn around. I knew who it was.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Drama, Humor - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2007-01-08 - Updated: 2007-01-09 - 1185 words

I froze. My knees felt like they'd give at any moment. I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn't come. My throat felt dry, my tongue parched and yet I managed a simple "nice to meet you," though if it were my eyes that did the talking, you would have heard a much different, more explicit greeting.

I tightened my grip on my black clutch. "I...better get going."

Turning on my heel, almost spraining my ankle in the process, I hastily snaked through the club's crowd toward the lighted exit sign. The sound of my heart beat was pounding inside my head as the aroma of exotic liquor and cigarette smoke fogged my senses.

Pushing through the heavy doors I welcomed the frigid air of the city streets. I walked down further, hoping the icy touch of the wind would somehow snap me out of this dizzying state. I let out a steamed breath; the white wisps dissipating into the darkness of the night as I slowed my pace.

"Raquel! Wait!" A voice shouted, accompanied by accelerated footsteps. I didn't even need to turn around. I knew who it was.

"Dammit Raquel! Wait!"

I spun around only to come face to face with Brendon hunched over, hands on his knees, as he regulated his breathing back to normal.

He stood back up. "Please. Let me explain," he panted as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

I swiped his hand away without hesitation. "Why should I do that Brendon?" The frustration and anger surged through me as I looked at his pathetic state. "As I recall, there's nothing more for me to know. You lied, Brendon. How do I know that you're not making up another fabrication?" I shook my head softly, "...and to think I felt I could trust you."

Brendon dropped his arms at his sides in defeat. "First off, I didn't lie. I just...neglected to share that information with you."

"Like that's so much better." I scoffed, placing a hand on my hip.

"And secondly, I don't understand why you are so pissed at me."

"How can you not? Anyone with a brain can understand the problem with this, with us, with any of it! You cheated on your girlfriend and I'm sorry, but I will not be the other woman in this love triangle."

"You aren't. You weren't. Me and Kelsey have been separated for two fucking months now. Our relationship, if you can even call it that, has been dragging on for a long time."

"But you introduced her as your girlfriend, Brendon."

"I hadn't broken up with her yet by the time you came up. As soon as you left I told her it was over for good. None of this 'separated' crap."

An ambulance whizzed by; the red and blue lights cascaded off the building's brick wall. A symbolic representation, perhaps?

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? All you did was fucking complicate things." I placed a palm to my forehead to soothe my impeding headache.

"I was already going to break up with her. Why delve into something that wasn't there in the first place?" He took a deep breath of the chilled air and brought his left hand to loosen the dark tie around his collared neck. "C'mon it's freezing out. Can we please finish this conversation in the car?"

I nodded, my teeth chattering too much for me to verbalize an appropriate response.

--- --- ---

He parked just outside of the driveway, next to the obscure mailbox and shut of the engine. He got out of the driver's side and jogged to the passenger door and opened it.

"Thanks." I stepped out of the comfortable temperature of the car and braced myself for the walk to my door. What can I say? I'm a baby when it comes to the cold.

He rubbed the back of his neck, out of habit, and stared blankly at me. He didn't need to say it. I already knew.

"She's not home. No lengthy interrogations for you tonight."

The expression of surprise and relief showered his features.

"My brother and my mom had some mother-son date thingy going on tonight. I dunno. She told me that they didn't expect to be home soon." I opened the door. "Um, you can come up for a little bit if you want to."

--- --- ---

I flopped onto my bed, kicking off my black high heels into the corner. I glanced at Brendon taking in my startlingly clean room. He paused at my collection of magazine clippings and posters on the back of my door.

"Hey look. There's me." He pointed. "And me again. Oh, and look it's...nope not me. Wait, but over here-"

"Yeah, I get the point." I shook my head, embarrassed.

He laughed as he turned around. "It's okay. You know...Ryan has quite a mass collection of Rachel Bilson."

I giggled, "Seriously?"

"No. He doesn't. But it made you feel better, right?" He asked pursing his lips.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure."

He turned back around and starting going through my things. Not that I cared of course. I really didn't have anything to hi-

"BRENDON BOYD URIE! Put those back!"

In between his index finger and thumb was my pair of black lace underwear. "Ooh la la." He said in a mock French accent.

I jumped up from my springy mattress and darted for the flimsy fabric. But with his height of five foot eight and a half I had a bit of a struggle. Okay, a lot of a struggle, but finally he retreated.

He took a seat at my computer desk. "You've seen 10 Things I Hate About You, right?"

"Yeah." I answered as I shoved my unmentionables back into the drawer. "What about it?"

"Remember what they said about black underwear?" He grinned, turning on my laptop.

"You are so retarded." I murmured.

"Hey, check this out." He said referring to my laptop wallpaper. "You don't have me as your background!"

"Shocking, right?" I uttered as I positioned myself directly behind him with my hands resting on the back of his seat.

"Nah, what would be shocking is if you had Pete Wentz' peen on your screen. Haha. That's funny. Peen on your screen. Peen on your screen. Peen on your-"

"Yeah. That's funny all right, Brendon."

"Was that supposed to be sarcastic?"

"Was that supposed to be funny?"

"Ouch." He said, opening up Word.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" He said, the sound of the manic pressing of keyboard buttons as his own personal symphony.

I leaned in to further establish what he was typing: P33N 0N UR 5CR33N.


"I love it when you yell my name." He stated, exiting out of Microsoft Word.

I smacked him playfully on the back of his head and flopped onto the bed. Brendon got up from the creaky desk chair and mimicked my action.

--- --- ---

*Yeah, not much to it yet, but I felt I should post since I haven't in a while. Hopefully this will tide you over for now...
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