CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Twenty-Four

I had genuinely not been expecting any voice, least of all one from behind me, so the fear and shock that I felt was genuine, and my muscles tightened in reflex, tensing, and this made me pull harder on the weed, and-

I yelped, the roots finally giving, and coming free, the force I'd been using to pull it now throwing me back on my butt. Hard. And because that wasn't enough, I tumbled flat onto my back.

The good news was I think I had popped my shoulder back into place.

Brendon smiled as he leant over me, all upside down. It was a wide, pleased smile that showed off his top row of teeth and was just that little bit smug. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of black Wayfarer sunglasses, his hair was mussed, and pushed back a little, and he was wearing a white vest top emblazoned with a Modelo Mexican beer logo. His arms looked good in a vest top. Muscular. "Hey." he said.

Also, I could retain quite a bit of information in under a minute, I learned.

"So ... your hard work noises sound an awful lot like your sex noises." He raised one of his hands to rub his jaw, run it down his throat, before it disappeared out of my view again. He looked incredibly and highly amused. "I'd love to hear your tennis grunt."

"Brendon." I finally said. Told myself to blink. I must remember to blink. And breathe.

"Yes," Brendon nodded, and looked entirely innocent as he pointed a finger to his chest. "Brendon." He couldn't keep one corner of his lips twitching in a teasing smile as he pointed at me. "And you're Florence!"

And then I said something completely smack-your-palm-to your-head stupid. "I don't play tennis."

"Know what?" Brendon said, and extended a hand out to me. I took it slowly, cautiously, placing my palm in his, and his fingers wrapped around mine in their gloves, dirty and probably stuck with a few prickers, his warm grip, helping haul to my feet. "Neither do I."

To keep my hands busy as soon as he let go of mine, I peeled the gloves off, tucked them between my knees, dusted myself down, furiously combed my fingers through my hair, and then pulled the gloves back on. I felt jittery and all jacked up, and sore, and embarrassed and flustered and all hot and bothered. "Brendon ..." I started, then stopped, swallowing, my throat dry. So were my lips, so I licked them. And didn't stare at Brendon's ... No. Not one bit ... Well maybe a little. "How did you get up here?"

Brendon furrowed his brow, raised an eyebrow, and hooked his thumb behind him. "There's a sign that says-"

"Closed. I know. Funnily enough, most people notice that before they break and enter into a building."

Brendon raised his eyebrow further. "Right beside that one. That says If it's an emergency, leave a message, and if it's life or death, we're on the roof."

Dammit. I should have probably remembered I put that there before I got smart. "Is it life or death, then?" aha. I smiled, and crossed my arms over my chest. Balls in your court, Urie.

Brendon laughed softly, and shook his head. "Not quite." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm actually here on behalf of your brother." He swallowed. That damned kissable Adam's apple. "About Breezy. Apparently, he's been trying to call you since this morning. She and him are no longer going out together tonight, so your babysitting services are no longer needed. Also, she wants you around at hers tomorrow an hour earlier, for a spa day ... girl thing?"

I clapped my hands to my shorts pocket at the mention of trying to call, and found them flat and empty. Dammit, I must have left it at home on the way out this morning. "So ... he sent you?"

Brendon had a sneaky little wicked grin. "Not exactly. He was gonna come and tell you himself, but ... I thought you'd get a kick out of my company instead." He spread his hands out wide like mystery solved.