CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Twenty-Six

"I still think you cheated." I said, as I climbed into the passenger seat of his car, pulled the door shut. It was that, or he was super secretively competitive. I was banking on the last one. I was still chewing my lip and trying to decide if he'd gotten so competitive to protect his pride, because he couldn't stand to lose, or that I'd offered him something he really, really wanted by winning, when Brendon chuckled, jamming the key in the ignition. "You're just a sore loser."

"Hm, maybe." I smiled to myself. I reached over and grabbed my buckle, sliding it across me and strapping myself in. In doing so, I noticed the little Hawaiian dancer bobble doll, sitting on his dash. She was the standard affair when it came to those things. Tan skin, dark hair with the orchid flower in it, permanent grin, grass skirt, lei around her neck, and ukulele held across her chest. "Huh," I said, flicking her head so that her whole upper torso swayed side to side manically.

Brendon shrugged, obviously feeling the need to explain such a possession. "Ironically paying homage to my heritage." He said, and shrugged again. "Got it when I was nineteen. When I went there to visit my mom's dad."

"Cute." I said, smiling. "She have a name?"

"Yeah, actually." Brendon laughed, and looked down at his lap self-consciously. "Don't judge me, but ... you know that Disney film, Lilo And Stitch?"

I nodded, encouraging him to go on. And yes, I was hella curious now.

"Man. I love that film. Best Disney kids film, hands down."

"That's something I can debate." I shook my head. "But continue."

"Well, I know it sounds weird, but ... I had a crush, on Lilo's big sister's character, Nani." He did that awkward laugh, that was almost as cute as the honky one. "So ... Nani." He reached over and nudged the dancer, which had nearly come to a standstill, back into motion.

"You're right, that is weird." I laughed. "But cute."

Brendon smiled at me sheepishly, nudging his knuckles against my thigh softly. "Does this mean I'm forgiven? For being such an asshole before?"

I pretended to think about it, before shrugging, and saying "You're forgiven. But buddy, I work on a three and out system. That was your first strike."

He laughed again, and he pulled the clutch, the car starting. "Fair enough." Then, as an afterthought. "I really don't deserve to be forgiven quite so easily. I really was a jerk to you back there."

I had begun to absent-mindedly braid a lock of my hair, twisting it into a small plait, before I shrugged, and combed my fingers through it, setting it back. "I was a jerk, too."

Brendon laughed. That honky laugh. And he fluffed a hand through his hair, which hadn't been sorted, or changed, since I'd made it all stick up. "Shut up, Florrie."

I feigned offence, jaw opening in shock, giving a scandalised gasp. "Did you just tell me to shut up? You do know that counts as another offence. Another strike. You're skating on thin ice, buddy."

Brendon laughed again, and pressed a button to roll his window down, before hanging one hand outside the car. "I'm also not wearing a seatbelt. I'm living on the edge."

"A real, life, bad boy daredevil." I whistled. "That kind of gets me hot."

"Why, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to get into my pants, Florence Weekes."

I put my hand on his leg. On this inner thigh. Let it rest there as I said in the best imitation of a 1940s black-and-white heroin voice that I could manage. "Damn, you got me all figured out, sonny." A minute passed, with Brendon driving, my hand dangerously close to his crotch, until I said, in my normal voice "So where is it that you want to take me?"