hømetøwn

• : / five / : •

Seeing him through the car window, I think my heart might have actually skipped a beat.

I don't mean that in the way that corny romance novels do. You know, where, like, the main character sees their hot soul mate and maybe their stomach flutters a bit and they describe it as their heart skipping a beat. No. No, I mean my heart literally felt like it stopped for a second. It was a tight pinch in my chest and I couldn't breathe. It was almost like when I saw him, my heart just froze for a second to say, dammnn. Which I guess would be cute and exciting if it didn't feel like I was going to die.

He rolled the window down and peered out at me. "You okay?"

I made a bit of a choking noise. My heart started again, slamming against my rib cage.

He reached over and popped the door open. "You can come in, you know."

I slid into the car and pulled the door shut. It was hard to look at him for some reason.

"So, uh," I finally managed to get out, "you...how was the drive?"

"It was great. How was school?"

"I died at least twelve times."

"That bad?"

"You have no idea."

He started the car, grinning. "So I'm assuming you're a senior, right?"

"Yep. And I'm guessing you've graduated?"

"Yeah, last year. I was barely out of high school when the band took off."

Oh, right. This painfully beautiful male specimen who liked chicken nuggets and driving places with me was in a band signed by Pete Wentz. If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

"Not bad," I said. I glanced at him, biting my lip, and decided to test the waters. "I, uh, I bet your girlfriend loves that whole band thing."

He chuckled softly and his eyes flicked to me. They were dark brown and seemed to glow in the fractured light. "Do you?"

My eyes were glued to the floor. Heat crept up my neck. "Do I what?"

"Do you love the whole band thing?"

Flames exploded up my insides. "Yeah, maybe a little. But that's not what I meant. Doesn't matter if I like it, because I, uh...I'm not your girlfriend." I looked at him. "Am I?"

The grin disappeared. "No," he said. "No, of course not. Not unless you...I, uh...I mean, I wouldn't be against...but I, uh...you...sorry. What were we talking about?"

"Wait, what are you -"

"I mean, we barely know each other. It'd be crazy to ask, wouldn't it? We just met. I...well, uh..."

"Anyone would be lucky to be your girlfriend," I said. The car seemed to be a thousand degrees warmer, the air hot and buzzing against my skin. "But you're right. We don't know each other."

He nodded slowly. "But you're beautiful and you like Fall Out Boy and I've never seen someone so good at chicken nugget feeding. Getting to know you would be pretty cool. So, uh...I don't know. Maybe someday?"

"I'm not beautiful," I muttered. "But yeah. Someday."

"Sweet."

Silence prickled between us. I looked out the window as trees and crumbling buildings flashed by. He flicked the volume knob on the radio. Music crackled through the speakers. He sang along softly. I drank in the sound. His voice was deep and velvety. It made something broken inside me feel like it was reconnecting, like his voice was healing and transforming me.

God. I sound like some sort of creep. But seriously, his voice was amazing.

Knowing he had experienced such immediate success with his band right of high school was sort of intimidating. I had absolutely no clue what I was going to do after high school. All I knew for sure was that I had to get out of this town. I wished I could be like him. Or even be able to sing. But no. When I sang, I sounded like a possessed walrus with throat cancer. Most of the time I just screamed the lyrics and hoped no one noticed I couldn't carry a tune. But hey. I can't sing, but I can sure as hell recognize when someone else can. And Brendon Urie...well.

"There are a lot of people wearing overalls here," said Brendon.

Two older men in overalls were hobbling down the sidewalk. One was holding - I shit you not - a rifle over his shoulder. Seriously. I couldn't make this up. The old man literally had a rifle slung over his shoulder as he walked down the street.

"Is he expecting a deer to materialize in front of him?" I said.

"Shh, don't insult him. He can probably sense it. I'd rather not have 'Murdered By Hill Billy' on my gravestone."

"I don't know, man, I think that sounds pretty snazzy."

The old man spotted us. He waved his rifle in greeting and grinned, his lips pulling back to reveal several missing teeth.

"Delightful," said Brendon. "Do you know this guy?"

"No," I said, but I was lying. He and my dad were friends. They both worked at the same hunting store. "Also, if you see a tall angry looking dude do me a favor and run him over nine times."

"Ex-boyfriend?"

"He wishes."

"Don't we all. So what happened?"

"He's the one who drove me to the Fall Out Boy concert. I told you about him the other night, I think. He was just trying to get with me. Doesn't actually like Fall Out Boy. So yeah. Run him over nine times for me please."

"Let's make that ten."

"I like the way you think, Urie."

"Is there anything else you like about me?"

I looked at him. Those wide dark eyes fixed on mine and his lips pulled into a half smirk. And there it was again. That wrench in my chest, and the whole world was flickering, and I couldn't breathe, and God, he was so beautiful. Maybe guys aren't supposed to be, but he was, and looking at him was addictive. I blinked and looked away. I forced a laugh.

"Of course," I said. "I like that you're willing to drive hours to come see me and make fun of the red necks in my town."

"And that I am so devilishly handsome."

"Devilishly might be the right word." My heart restarted. He tapped the steering wheel, humming. It was hard to look away. He was worse than nicotine.