Mr. B. Urie

6

His house isn't so much larger than my own, but it feels more filled and more lived in. I sit on his couch, cuddling with one of his dogs (I think it's Penny). Is it bad that I packed a bag to stay here? Brendon doesn't know, I just told him I'd rather carry a backpack than a purse.

"Hey," he comes up behind me, resting his chin on my forehead. "I have something to show you."

"What is it?" I ask, placing the dog beside me and standing up. There's a cocky grin on his face and he takes my hand.

"You'll see." He leads me around the couch towards his backyard. Outside, there's a huge pool and a little shed in the corner of the yard.

"I didn't bring a bathing suit, B." He looks at me smugly and pulls off his shirt and jeans. Now he's only in his boxers, and my heart flutters at his toned stomach.

"I hope you're not shy, Arie." He laughs at my presumably beet red cheeks. Then he disappears in between the house and the fence.

"Brendon?" I call out after him. I don't know if I should follow him or not.

"Up here!" I look up and see Brendon perched precariously on the edge of the roof. "Watch this," he says as he jumps off, flips, and lands in the deep end of the pool with a splash.

"What the hell!" I yell when he resurfaces. "You could have hurt yourself, Brendon. You shouldn't do stuff like that." He shrugs and swims towards me.

"I do it all the time, it's thrilling! You should come in, the water's really nice."

"I don't have a bathing suit," I repeat. He gestures down at himself.

"You're in good company, then. Come on," he pouts at me with puppy dog eyes and I shake my head, but sit on the edge and dip my feet in. The water is cool, but not cold; the perfect temperature. Brendon slides himself out of the pool and sits beside me. He's dripping water on my thigh and arm, but I don't mind.

His arm closest to me has a giant tattoo on it. I take it in my hand and trace the outline of Frank Sinatra's face, turn it over and do the same to the piano keys and tacky Hawaiian flowers. "You must like music," I say, not looking up at him. I can feel the smile that is on his lips.

"Love," he corrects me, taking the arm I'm holding and nudging my face up to look at him. He pulls his body half into the water and rests in between my knees. Then he leans in and kisses me softly. I wrap my arms and legs around him and kiss him back. All of a sudden I feel myself being pulled into the water slowly. Before I can stop him, Brendon has me completely immersed.

"Brendon!" I scream. He's laughing at me. I roll my eyes. I don't want to get waterlogged, so I tread water and start to pull off my sopping wet t-shirt.

"I can't believe you fell for that!" He giggles like a freshman girl. I throw my shirt at him and he catches it, tossing it to the side. "Come here," I don't move, so he paddles towards me. "Are you mad at me?" He puts his hands on my waist and pulls me into the shallow end so we can stand.

"Yes." Not really.

"I'm sorry," he frowns, trailing his hands up my sides. My automatic reaction is to grab his hands and push them back down, not because I'm angry, but because I'm uncomfortable. "I'm sorry." He says again, dropping his hands.

"B, I'm not mad. Let's go inside." I sigh, wading to the ladder and climbing out of the pool. It's really a good thing that I packed clothes. On the way to the back door, I grab my shirt and wait for Brendon to follow.

"You go ahead, I'll be in in a minute." He waves me off, staying in the water. I look at him sideways but do as he says. By the time I'm dressed in my sweatpants and oversized Fall Out Boy tee, Brendon is just entering the house. "Hey, where'd the clothes come from?"

"I brought them," I bite my lip nervously. He smiles at me and shakes his wet hair out of his eyes.

"I see . . . Are you cold? I could lend you one of my sweaters." He winks at me. I have a feeling he just wants to see me in his clothes, but I'm fine with that. I follow him into his bedroom and he tosses me a black hoodie with an acronym on it.

"What's 'P-exclamation mark-A-T-D'?" I ask, shrugging on the sweater.

"Oh, uh, it was the band I was in in college. 'Panic! At the Disco', I played guitar and dabbled in singing."

"Will you sing for me, Brendon?" I ask, walking closer and sliding a hand up his still bare chest.

"Well, when you ask like that, how could I say no?" He smirks, dipping me back and kissing me. His body and hair are still wet and I laugh into him.

"B, go get dressed!" I nudge him towards the bathroom and he obliges, though not too happily. When he comes back out, he's sporting grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. He looks even younger in normal clothes and it makes me smile.

"What now?" He smiles back at me curiously.

"You're just adorable," I say, ruffling his damp hair and pecking him quickly. "Now sing me a song, piano man!" He laughs and intertwines our fingers, leading me into his living room where there is a sleek black, upright piano.

He sits down and I perch awkwardly beside him. "L is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I see, V is very very, extra ordinary, E is even more than anyone that you adore can Love: is all that I can give to you, Love: is more than just a game for two, two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break it. Love was made for me and you . . . " He sings softly. There are tears in my eyes as he finishes because his voice is just beautiful.

"Brendon," I don't know what to say, I'm mesmerized.

"It's getting late, I should get you home." He says, looking at his watch.

"Or . . ." I take his hand in mine and play with his fingers. "I could stay. Just a little bit longer,"

"How much longer? It's a school night and I have papers to grade." Does he not want me here? I thought that he invited me over because he wanted me here, but if he doesn't . . .

"Nevermind, take me home then." He narrows his eyebrows in concern and pulls me closer to him.

"I didn't—what I meant was that it's a school night and we can't exactly show up at the school together, now can we? And I still have a job to do, even though I really would rather be spending my time with you. If you don't mind that I'm marking while you're here, you can stay as long as you want. We'll just have to figure out what to do in the morning, I guess." I swallow and nod, hugging him tightly.

"Let's watch a movie while you do that marking. I was thinking the Parent Trap with Lindsay Lohan . . ."