Get me Out of My Mind (Brendon Urie)

13. You are taking me apart

The day of reckoning is upon us.

Well, upon me, anyway.

I am currently standing outside a salon, inside which I know that Brendon Urie lurks somewhere. And I'm supposed to see him. And talk to him.

Well, screw that. I turn around to walk away, but Claire's standing behind me, so as I do turn my body slams into hers. And since she's a lot shorter than I am, it means that her face goes straight into, well, my boobs, which is a tad awkward.

"Claire, aren't you being a little forward? I mean, shouldn't you buy me dinner first?" I ask her for the sake of being obnoxious as she steps back, and she rolls her eyes in response, trying to hide the smirk that threatens her face.

"Erin, shut up." But I can see she's trying to hide her amusement, and needless to say, it makes me very smug. I am a humorous person. It can not be denied, not by anyone, not even Claire.

"You and I both know that will never happen." I shoot back, sticking my tongue out at her. Claire laughs a little at that, and then she slings her arm around my shoulder, which is probably hard for her to do since I'm so ridiculously and embarrassingly tall compared to her.

"Come on. I'm in the mood to get all pampered and preened for the party." She beams, as if the prospect of sitting in a chair for two hours or more and being pulled at is a fun one- which, by the way, it is not. I don't understand how Claire finds getting her hair done relaxing. For me, it's either really boring, or really horrible. My butt goes to sleep in the chair, I look hideous with my head floating above one of those cape things, and I never really see the point as my hair never looks especially different. Granted, that's probably because I never choose to do anything different to it (why tamper with perfection, right? Or, in my case, why tamper with imperfection is probably more appropriate.) Also because I'm just too lazy for the maintenance that would come with something badass, like dying my hair bubblegum pink or something.

Also

Ahem

Brendon.

Who may or may not be in there right now. And by 'may or may not', I mean definitely is because Claire booked an appointment for me with him. Why do I call Claire my 'best friend' again? She is clearly nothing but a creature of pure evil wrapped in a deceptively innocent and pretty shell. A creature designed to push me out of my own shell and make me do things that I would never willingly do in a million years. Hmm. I should write some kind of paranormal book about something like that.

How the hell has ths led to all these annoying events? One stupid blind date should not have caused all this. Seriously. This is absurd. I remember when Claire first told me what Brendon's name was, and I had no idea that I would be here, months later, cursing that damn Grandmaster Urie.

"I feel like a burger," I stall, then, glancing across the street at a restaurant. Since this is a more high-end area, it's one of those arty places where they slop on aoli, relish and coleslaw and charge the amount that I could spend on about six Big Macs for one burger. But it is burgers, nontheless. All burgers are beautiful, and brilliant. Not to mention the fact that if I went in there, I could attempt to climb out the bathroom window, run away and hide somewhere down low for the next few months until this Brendon thing simmers down.

Am I being overdramatic? Hmm... I think not.

"You want a burger now?" Claire shakes her head. "The appointment's in two minutes, you don't have time."

Exactly, Claire, I want to tell her. Exactly. And that way I can run away from the appointment and never have to see Brendon ever ever ever again. Maybe I'll just go and live in the burger bar and I'll be the weird ghost who haunts the bar and steals all the scraps off peoples' plates and become one of those New York Urban Legends-