Mistaken // Ryden

Chapter two

-Melody-

"Left, right, up, side," I say as I dodge each punch and kick thrown at me. I kick and punch myself until the door opens.

"Melody, melody, melody, oh my god, you will not believe- hi Joey," Hannah says, and Joey and I stop. I take a deep breath, drinking some water. 

"What?"

"Brendon's in Oregon!" She squeals, practically shaking. "What if- oh my god, what if he came here?"

"He won't," I say, laughing, because we all know that that would never happen. Brendon wouldn't give it away. Hell, I'm only 17.

"I know, but could you imagine?" She asks as I put on my leather jacket and sunglasses, then grab my keys, helmet, and bag. We exit the building and start heading over to the main school building. 

"Like, seriously, imagine it: Brendon Urie walking into the building of RPA and just-"

"Hannah, snap out of it," I say, snapping in front of her face. 

"That'd make a good story, actually," she says quietly, and I laugh. Perks of being friends with a writer. 

We step inside, walk past admissions office, then open the door to the room everyone can see through because of the windows. 

"Oh, shoot, I gotta go talk to Jack about the project. I'll be back in like 5 to 10 minutes," Hannah rushes towards the stairs and goes up. I hear a few gasps outside the hall, so I look up. I can't help but smile and shake my head when he opens the door and sees me. 

"Oh no, must be serious if you've actually come to see me," I say as he nears. 

"Can we talk somewhere?" He looks around. "Maybe a bit private?" 

I hop down from the chair and grab my stuff again. 

"You got a ride?"

"Hopefully you?"

"Come on, then."

"So, why are you here?" I ask Brendon.

"We need a touring guitarist," he says. 

"What happened with Kenny?" My blood runs cold saying his name, but I don't say anything about it.

"We... kicked him out last night. Had to. Needed to." 

"Why?"

"He's been texting and being very sexual to underage fans. I found out and went to talk to him and saw him trying to... get it on with a fan and she kept fighting back. Kicked him out immediately," he explains. Good. Good for me, too. 

"Karma's a bitch," I say, taking a drink of my coffee. 

"It is," he agrees, but I shake my head.

"That's not what I mean," I say. He frowns, but I continue, "So, I'm guessing you want me to find you someone? Don't understand why you didn't just call or text me, cause I could've found someone easily, there was no need for you to fly here and blow our cover and-"

"We want you," Brendon cuts me off, and I stop. "We want you as our new guitarist," he says, quietly this time.

"Me...?" I ask, confused and shocked. 

"You're the only guitarist that we know is good and doesn't have anything important going on in their life. No offense."

"None taken, but school is important."

"You know damn well that your teachers would let you do it all online. We will pay you, I've already spoken to your mom and she's fine with it, you can do school work while on the bus, and-"

"What about Ryan?" 

"What?" He tenses the second I mention his name. 

"I mean, he's not doing anything either," I say, smirking slightly. 

"No, no, that... I can't ask him. I don't wanna drag him on stage if he doesn't wanna be there," Brendon shakes his head.

"You're gonna have to," I say, standing. His eyes widen and he jumps up, grabbing my arm.

"MJ, please," he begs, and I look at him, "we need you. You're great and there's no reason-"

"Fine, I'll go," I say as an idea pops into my head. 

"Really? Amazing! So-"

"On three conditions," I interrupt him. He stops, listening. "One, I will get a whole new wardrobe change."

"That's fine."

"Two, new car once tour is over, it's pretty cheap," I say. He nods, basically saying it's okay. "And three, we are going on a flight to L.A. tomorrow morning and going to go see a concert."

"Okay, that's fine."

"You're going with me," I reassure him.

"Okay. I'm okay with that. That's fine," he tells me, and I hold out my hand. We shake, and I smirk. "So, what's the concert?"

"Well, we've already shaken, just remember that," I say, and he seems to realize. He's fucked up.

"Who is performing...?" I bring the straw up to my cherry red lips, tucking a piece of short blonde hair behind my ear. 

"Remember how you said Ryan doesn't perform?" I say, then turn and begin to walk down the sidewalk. He chases after me.

"Wait-"

"We're going, and you're gonna see him, and that's final."

He knows his options:

Either see Ryan or not have a touring guitarist.

And that's why he's not arguing.