The Publicity Stunt - Ryden

Chapter 2: A little too much

It was an hour later when I finally spotted Pete over in a corner booth, his arm wrapped around a boy with soft curves. Strawberry blonde hair poked out of his crisp black fedora. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a red cardigan. Pete was whispering in his ear, making the boy blush softly. I watched as the boy leaned into Pete and planted a soft kiss to his lips, making Pete grin like a mad man. I knew the boy as Patrick Stump, a boy who Pete had been chasing after since before he got famous. There had been many guys and girls chasing after Pete, and every now and then he would indulge them with a quick fuck, but he always returned back to Patrick, and Patrick always shut him down. Tonight, though, looked like Pete's lucky night and I refused to interrupt that, even if I had been dying to leave.

I was drunk. I knew that much. Everyone blurred together as I moved to turn around, my vision like slow motion. Fuck Brendon and those damn tequila shots. This was his fault. Not mine. Fuck him. I couldn't keep up with him drinking, but every time he took a shot, so did I. I made sure to make him think I was just as tough as he was. I definitely wasn't.

When I stepped towards the door to leave I found myself stumbling over my own feet. I almost fucking fell. But a hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me back up. I turned toward the body and knocked the hand away, slapping it harshly. "Fuck you. I don't need your help." I said, my words slurred as I looked up at Brendon, who was standing over me with this fucking smirk on his lips that could mesmerize an entire room, but it only made me want to vomit. Or was that the alcohols doing?

"Just trying to help.." He mumbled, taking a sip of what I assumed was pure vodka. Asshole wasn't even tipsy, or he just knew how to hide it pretty well. "Fuck, you should drink more often Ryan. It really loosens you up." He looks down at me with furrowed brows, obviously annoyed about my lack of appreciation.

"What did you want me to do? Give you a kiss for helping me not fall?" And that made him smirk even harder at me. He licked over his plump bottom lip gently before his hands moved to grab my hips. Flash.

"I think that'd be the perfect thank you" he leans into me, and for a moment the alcohol makes me lean in too. It had been a really fucking long time since I had gotten any touch or kiss from a boy, and his lips looked so appealing and... No. I press my hands to his shoulders and push him back gently, but he only pulls me closer. Flash. I groan softly and shove him off of me. "Fuck you Brendon. I'll never lower myself to kissing someone like you!"

***

Jump to us together in a small corner booth, the lights low and the music making my head scream. His hand is on my thigh, but I don't care. I'm too busy shoving bar peanuts into my mouth and drinking down what seems like a gallon of water. I could puke at any moment. So no, his hand on my thigh isn't my problem, until it suddenly is. His hand shifts up my thigh and moves to my crotch, I jump at the feeling and still in my seat. I look up at him with narrowed eyes and then look down at his hand. "Do you want to lose your hand?" I ask between gritted teeth, my eyes staying focused on his hand.

"Well you're not exactly moving away from it Ry. You probably fucking love it. Love having anyone touch you. Pete told me how long it's been for you." Fuck Pete. Fuck Pete and his big fucking mouth. But Brendon is right, it has been a long time and his hand does feel really fucking good where it is, and maybe, just maybe, I don't want him to move his hand. But that didn't mean I liked him. He was still an asshole.

I didn't say another word. Instead I just took a small sip of my water and swallowed it down hard as he starts to lean into me, his voice is soft in my ear when he whispers "I knew you always wanted me baby..."

Flash.

And then it was all happening at once, my stomach bubbled as his lips met my neck and I opened my mouth to say something, to stop him, but only one thing came out. Puke. And it was shooting out of me onto Brendon's lap.

Asshole deserved it for trying to take advantage of me.

Pete was pulling me away seconds later, leaving Brendon alone with puke running down his designer jeans. I couldn't help but laugh at that. My stomach obviously knew the humor of comedic timing, although, no one else was laughing as hard as I was.