But It's Better If You Do || Brendon Urie|| EDITING IN PROGRESS

Chapter Three

"What was it that you just said? Say it again!"

"Say what again?"

"My last name...say it again."

Odd request indeed, but I politely did as he ordered me to do.

"Urie," I repeated softly. The repetition of his last name only seemed to heighten his enthusiasm.

He began laughing hysterically until he nearly fell out of his chair and straight onto the cold pavement below. What a dork. Once he finally recollected himself, his face was rid of all emotion and his smile dissipated into a frighteningly neutral expression. This was all much too confusing for my brain.

"You've known who I am this entire time?"

"Uh...yes?"

"I'm asking the questions here, not you. Say it with some conviction."

Good lord, what type of stick was up his ass? I tried once more.

"Yes," I repeated with a much more firm tone of voice.

Silence filled the cool air for way too long. A sickening feeling was messing around with my stomach just as it had done when I noticed Brendon sitting quietly in a chair only hours before. His velvet voice shattered the silence after a couple of seemingly endless minutes.

"And you failed to mention this because...?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah, actually it does."

"To who? To you? Nothing matters to you except for your wealth and your oh-so-precious reputation!"

Yikes. A little harsh even for me. He stood to his feet abruptly within a matter of seconds, and that was when I realized things were about to get seriously ugly...and quick. As usual, my mom had truly stellar timing. Great.

"You guys want some delicious homemade beef st-"

I turned around to look at my poor mother, two large bowls in hand full of steaming hot food that looked rather unappetizing to me now thanks to Brendon's sour attitude. An innocently smug grin was sitting on her face until she saw our expressions and realized what was going on. A fight. I yearned for her shoulder to cry onto, but I knew that would make me look weak to Brendon (who was still waiting patiently to fight me.) I mustered up a fake sense of tranquility for my worried mother to ease her troubled mind a little.

"Mom, can you do me a favor? Go inside for awhile, Bren and I are just having a little chat."

I heard him snicker quietly and mutter something inaudible underneath his soft breath at the sound of the word 'chat.' He knew what a lie that really was. I turned around and gave him a piercing glare.

"Okay," she winked, walking back into the house slowly. Whatever sick fantasies were going on in her brain about Brendon and I were all completely wrong in every way. She probably hoped that we were going to fall in love and get married on a beautiful beach somewhere and have tons of cute little children running about in our fully furnished Malibu beach house that costed us 10,000,000 dollars. Boy would she be wrong if she honestly thought that would be the case for us!

I wasn't hungry for beef stew because I was about to make some delicious Brendon Urie stew.

"Are you seriously going to make me fight a girl?" He chuckled softly to himself in a disgustingly egotistical manner. His nonchalant attitude only made the internal fire inside of me burn even brighter. It was like pouring a gallon of pure gasoline on an already burning building just to see how large the flames could get before the cops arrived.

"God dammit, Brendon Urie, I hate you!"

That was when fists started flying all over the place in my mind's eye and every last ounce of peace was obliterated by uncanny hatred. I was looking forward to fighting a dick like him. Bring it on.

"Don't call me Brendon anymore! You've lost the privilege," he snapped violently in anger as he