Preview || b.u [COMPLETED]

Chapter Sixteen // Marijuana and Early Birthday Realizations

Brendon suddenly went missing, and I began looking around the different hotel rooms for him.

Until I walked into my producer's room, which is a smoking room.

Tristan opened the door and smiled, the room full of smoke. "He's in here," Tristan laughed.

I walked through the smoke and saw Brendon on his computer, smoking what it looks like to be marijuana.

"It's the only room where I can smoke," Brendon smiled at me, and I nodded. "Don't look at my laptop, it's not porn but.. It's nothing dirty."

"I won't look at your damn laptop," I laughed, sitting on the bed behind Brendon.

Brendon spun around in his spinny chair, acting like a little kid.

"Have you ever tried marijuana?" Brendon raised an eyebrow at me.

"No! I was a good kid!" I laughed and Brendon smirked at Tristan.

"Don't pressure Ellie dude, she's intense when it comes to things of the sort," Tristan winked at Brendon.

"Want to try?" Brendon asked.

"Uh- no," I shook my head.

"Why not?" Brendon smiled.

"Because I don't want to," I replied and Brendon nodded.

"You're scared," Brendon stated, his eyes squinting at me.

"No! Just-"

"She's scared," Tristan laughed.

"Oh shut up!" I laughed at Tristan, and Brendon laughed along with me.

"I'll help you try," Brendon continued.

"No, I'm just going to go publish the post, it's around the time-"

"You usually post in two hours," Brendon smirked, looking at his laptop.

I was trapped.

Just get out.

"I'm going to go," I began walking out.

I closed the door behind me and basically ran to the elevator.

Brendon was chasing after me, looking concerned.

Brendon stopped the elevator and walked in, pressing the four.

After the doors closed he turned to me and began rambling. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to act like an asshole, I should've taken your feelings under consideration instead of trying to make you do something you clearly don't want to do."

"It's fine," I smiled at Brendon. "The room just smelled like... Nothing." I changed the subject.

"Wait, what?" Brendon questioned.

"I don't want to tell you in an elevator," I replied and Brendon nodded.

We walked into our hotel room, and Brendon sat on our spinny chair and patted his lap.