Saturday, February 7, 2009

summer
July 1st.

"Spencer, how much longer are we going to stay here?" I asked my best friend. Spencer looked over his shoulder at me, slightly annoyed that I had pulled his attention off of the local surf instructor, Jon.

"Just a little longer, Ry." Spencer says, his big blue eyes are pleading with mine, I sigh, I know why Spencer's so desperate to stay at this crowded house party. The blue eyed boy had finally decided that this would be the summer that he finally confessed his love to and promptly won over Jon Walker.

"Fine." I mutter and Spencer's eyes light instantly, he graces me with the warmest of smiles before he turns back to Jon, leaning in close to listen to the older boy's stories about the ocean.

I decided that since we were in fact staying at the party, I might as well leave Spencer alone to complete his plan. It wasn't that I don't enjoy parties because I do. It's just that Spencer and I had only just arrived to this place, coming in off the ferry boat early this morning. I was a little stiff and kind of tired and mostly just wanted to sleep tonight and start the day anew.

I could usually convince Spencer to agree to this, it was our ritual after all. It probably would've worked if Jon Walker hadn't shown up shirtless and carrying a surfboard, inviting the two of us to a house party. The same house party that they were currently attending, obviously the invitation was accepted.

I moved from the crowded living room, the crush of people making me feel just slightly claustrophobic. I made my way into the kitchen, my arms brushing against the other sea soaked teens who were dancing and talking to one another. I was pleased to find that the kitchen was nearly empty, besides me there was just a small blonde girl who was getting herself another beer. The girl smiled at me as she left the room and now I was all alone.

The smell of alcohol had saturated the house and although I wasn't a big drinker, I figured that at least a beer would help me want to stay longer, allowing Spencer more time to work his magic. I opened the fridge, bending down and brushing away the thick curtain of dark brown bangs that had fallen into my equally dark eyes.

By the time I had my hand wrapped around a cold bottle of beer and closed the fridge, I was no longer alone. Out of the corner of my eye I could see someone leaning against the kitchen counter, a guy, he didn't look like he had noticed me, his gaze locked on what was probably his cell phone.

I turned, setting the bottle down on the table. It was one of those tops that were insanely hard to open by hand, at least for me. I usually had Spencer open my beer bottles for me, or I used some kind of bottle top opener, embarressing? Yes, but what else could I do?

My eyes lifted to the person who was standing mostly across from me. He was young, maybe the same age as Spencer..maybe a little younger. He was tall and lean, not as skinny as me but it was rare to find guys who were. He was wearing skinny jeans, a rather tight pair of jeans at that and a dark t-shirt that was stretched tight across his thin chest. His face was soft, jet black hair falling into his brown eyes, said eyes were downcast and searching the screen of his cell, plump lips twisted up in a little smile. God, he was beautiful.

I managed to tear my gaze away from the boy, seconds before I saw him lift his own gaze, warm brown eyes sweeping over my body. I was tense under his gaze, sure, in all the summers that I had been here I had met good looking people but none of them truly caught my interest. I wasn't like Spencer, I didn't have someone that I spent each summer pining over. But this guy, he was by far the best looking person I had encountered.

I tried to look like I was looking for something, the bottle opener, but I wasn't willing to admit that. I heard footsteps and my heart dropped, I was sure that the dark haired boy was leaving the room, lessening the chances that I would see him again. Instead, I saw a pale hand spread out on the wood of the island I was leaning against. My gaze lifted, following the hand up, eyes drinking in a tight arm, up to a glorious neck, up to that gorgeous face.

I wanted to look away, I was afraid that I would but instead I forced myself to hold his eyes. "Looking for something?" He asks, his voice! His voice was great too, soft yet rough and happy, I instantly decided that I wouldn't mind hearing that voice for the rest of my life, or at least the rest of my time here. He was watching me quizzically and I realized that I was so busy watching him that I hadn't actually anwsered him, or acknowledged him in any other way.

"Um." God, I didn't want to tell him that I was too weak to open my beer. "Bottle opener." I admitted weakly, picking up my bottle and waving it slightly. The guy is grinning at me, I don't mind it but I really wish he was grinning because of something witty I had said as opposed to my lack of physical strength.

The guy is still grinning when he reaches out, motioning for the bottle I was holding. I gave it to him without question, watching him, I couldn't look away and it wasn't just because he had my beer. "Let me just." He's saying, his voice wrapping around me again, he twists the top of the beer and it pops off easily, too easily and I know he must think that I'm some kind of massive pussy. "Here," He says, still grinning as he slides the beer back over to me.

"Thanks." I know I'm blushing, I have to be at least flushed. I want to say something else to him but I don't know what, my brain is kind of lost at the moment. He's still watching me with those warm, warm brown eyes. I need to say something and I'm sure I would've thought of something great if he hadn't beat me to the punch.

"I've haven't seen you around here before." He's saying, okay, well at least now I know he's a local. He's got his head tilted, as if examining me, trying to place where I belong. "You just move here?"

I shake my head, making my bangs fall back into my eyes. "No, I'm spending the summer here. Just got here today." I finally find my voice and I'm relieved that it doesn't come out all shaky, really it's not often that I am so rattled by another person, usually I'm the one doing the rattling.

"Ah," He nods his head as if this is a normal occurance. "Tourist." He notes, still grinning and I allow a small smile to spread to my own face.

"I guess so." Though I wasn't one of those typical tourists who doesn't know where anything is and is constantly taking pictures of things. I, unlike them, knew where everything on this island was. "But I'm not one of those newbie ones, I happen to come here every year with my best friend." I explain, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

His handsome face showed some mild surprise. "Really? I'm surprised I've never met you before." He tells me, his brown eyes scanning me still, like he's trying to remember if he's ever seen me before. I know we've never met though, I would remember a face like that.

"Do you know Jon?" I ask, Spencer and I have known Jon now for a good two years, his place being a familar one for us.

"Just met him this year."

"That would be a good reason we never met. Spencer and I happen to take the Jon Walker travel guide." He laughs and I can't help but feel proud that I'm the one who made him do it. I let my confidence increase, try to act normal around him. I lean back a bit, my hands coming out behind me to find the counter that I know is there. "So, I'm thinking you should tell me your name." I say, a smirk playing across my lips, I like to be direct, besides, I'd never forgive myself if I didn't catch it.

"Cactus!" The guy says, my eyes crinkle in confusion.

"Your name is cactus?" God, his parents really did a number on him.

"No," He's saying, his brown eyes wide as he leans over the small island that's seperating us, his hand grasping my elbow and stopping me in my tracks. "Look behind you." He tells me and I listen, peering over my shoulder at the counter I was about to lean on. Sitting there is a prickly little cactus, one that I most definitly would've leaned against.

"Oh." Obviously I am a pussy and a moron and this guy will never talk to me again. 'Thanks."

He's smiling, a smile that's so warm and inviting that I can't help but return it.

"You're welcome." He's still holding on to my elbow. "And my name is Brendon." He adds, Brendon, I repeat the name again in my head, he looks like a Brendon. "Brendon Urie." He adds, his hand does leave my elbow, coming up to offer itself in a shake.

I press my hand into his, sort of wanting to thread our fingers together. "I'm Ryan, Ryan Ross."

Brendon smiles at me as our hands slip away and once again we're stuck in an awkward silence. The music in the living room floats around us and I think I can hear Spencer laughing.

"So, Ryan Ross, where are you from orginally?" Brendon questions, my face falters just a tiny bit. I don't really want to think of home right now, I come here to avoid thinking of home, at least for a few weeks.

"Vegas." I can see Brendon's eyes widen, Vegas is a long ways off from here.

"Long trip, what's it like living in the city of sin Ryan Ross?" Brendon asks, he's smiling at me again, I sort of love his smile, like a little kids but better. I shrug, what can I tell him? That I go to a catholic high school, that I'll be a senior in said high school when the summer ends, that I sometimes fiddle around with the guitar, that I like Fall Out Boy, or maybe that I come to this island so that my dad and I have a much needed break from one another.

"Any city could be just as sinful." I point out, a sly smile on my face and okay, yes, this is me flirting with Brendon. He seems to get it because his smile changes almost matching mine.

"Give me your hand." He requests and I'm handing it over to him before I even fully understand what he said. Brendon is grinning again as he lifts a pen out of his pocket and is scribbling on my hand, tickling the skin as he writes something on my upturned palm. "There." Brendon says as he releases my hand.

I draw back and see that he's written out his phone number in my palm, his name scribbled above the number and a heart enclosing the entire thing. He's fucking adorable.

"That's my phone number." I hear Brendon say, I lift my head and smile at him.

"I noticed." He's grinning that grin that makes him look very young and he ducks his head, as if he's embarressed.

"I think you should give me yours, I mean it's only fair." The other boy points out and I nod because yeah, phone numbers are good. He has his cell out and he's staring at me expectantly. I ramble off my number, his fingers ticking against the keys. "Okay," Brendon starts, looking up at me as he tucks his cell back into his extreamly tight jean pocket. "So, I'm definitly going to call you," He's saying, that grin slapped on his face. "Because I think it's time you experienced the Brendon Urie travel guide."

I laugh at Brendon but nod all the same. I doubt there's anything here on this island that he can show me that I haven't seen before but right now I wouldn't care if we just sat in the middle of this kitchen for the remainder of my time here, I'd be fine with it.

"Okay, but won't Jon Walker be upset that he's lost a customer?" I tease, Brendon laughs and rolls his eyes.

"Please, Walker is popular enough, he doesn't need more customers. I'm the one whose sadly lacking here." Brendon says, throwing an adorable pout on his face, his lips were basically made for pouting, or talking, or any other kind of activity that involves lips.

Another silence settles between the two of us but it's not awkward this time, it's comfortable. We had been staring at one another before Brendon smiles and breaks the contact. "I have to go right now but I'll talk to you soon." The black haired boy says before he's edging out of the kitchen, his eyes locked on mine. I'm disappointed that he has to leave but the promise of him calling me some time tomorrow is enough to actually let him go.

"Alright, Brendon, I'll talk to you then." I say, smiling what Spencer likes to call my 'I-Want-To-Get-In-Your-Pants-Smile' The other boy nods, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment before he pushes through the crowd in the living room, I watch until his form disappers before I move through the crowd myself, making my way back to Spencer.

My best friend is still standing where I left him, talking to Jon and grinning wider than I've seen in a while. Jon is staring at Spencer and talking animatedly, his brown eyes sparkling. Jon spots me before Spencer does and tilts his head, motioning me over. He must tell Spencer that I'm behind him because he turns, drinking me in as I approach him.

I curl my hand carefully, hiding Brendon's number and extravagent heart design. I'm sort of desperate to tell Spencer all about how I finally met a cute guy and that he can stop worrying about me being alone forever but I decide to wait until we get back to the hotel so a cerain surf instructor doesn't hear what I'm saying.

I've known Spencer long enough to know that he's noticed that there's something different about me, something he can't place and his light blue eyes are asking me silently what happened. I shrug, which is our silent language for 'I'll tell you when we're alone.' Spencer rolls his eyes and turns back to Jon who has his eyebrow raised at the two of us.

"I knew you guys were close but damn, I didn't know you could communicate without words." He jokes, laughing his very happy laugh, which sparks Spencer's laugh, which makes me crack a grin.

Spencer and I stayed at the party for about an half an hour longer, retiring back to our hotel room around midnight, neither of us drunk but both of us exhausted. I was so exhausted in fact that I didn't even get a chance to tell Spencer about how I met Brendon, what with Spencer rambling on about Jon during the short walk back to the hotel.

It didn't matter, I knew it could wait till tomorrow and tonight I would keep Brendon my secret, falling asleep with my palm upturned, his name and number still marking my hand.


July 2nd

"So, his name's Brendon?" Spencer asks from his spot across the room. I nod, not bothering to look up from my task on the bed. At some point while I was asleep, I had managed to smudge the last number of Brendon's cell phone number.

"Does this look like a seven or a nine?" I ask, lifting my hand and motioning for Spencer to come and help me. He rolls his eyes and brushes his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. Spencer makes his way to me as I continue to stare at my inky palm. He reaches me and takes my hand in his own, rolling his eyes at the heart drawn there.

"What is this guy a thirthteen year old girl?" He says, giving me a sly smile.

"Shut up and help me." I command, using my free hand to poke Spencer square in his slightly chubby belly. Spencer swats my one hand away while continuing to hold my other.

"It's a nine." He says before he drops my hand and moves into the bathroom to take a shower. "I don't remember seeing anyone that looked like how you described this Brendon guy." I can hear Spencer say as I punch Brendon's number into my phone. "Where'd he come from?"

"I told you Spence, one minute I was alone, the next minute he was there." This isn't unusual, Spencer is sometimes too overprotective of me, he often pulls the role of an interrogating mother when I meet a new guy. "Don't worry, Brendon's harmless."

"You don't know that." Spencer replies, stepping out of the bathroom to peer at me from around the corner. His shirt is off and his jeans are unbuttoned. "He could be a serial killer or something." I look up at Spencer, quirking my eyebrows at him.

"How many serial killers do you know that draw hearts on people?" He just rolls his eyes and steps back into the bathroom, I can hear the water running seconds later. I finally crawl out of bed after I save Brendon's number in my phone. I had been toying around with the idea of calling him but Spencer and I both agreed that I'd end up looking desperate, the thing was, that I kind of am.

The hotel room Spencer and I were staying in was right on the sea side, the sandy white beach just a few simple feet from the room. I liked to stand by the sliding door, the screen open so the warm breeze could blow into the room. It was a warm day today, the breeze blowing through and hitting me, ruffling my bangs in the process. There were a few people on our section of the beach, some kids and their parents, some older folks but not a lot of people my age. They all tended to hang on the other side of the island, where the surfing took place.

At some point during my surveying of the beach I began daydreaming, my subconcious bringing me thoughts of Brendon. I was wondering where he was right now, what he was doing at the moment, if he was thinking about me. It was kind of scary how quickly I had become attached to him, I just wasn't that kind of person.

Fifteen minutes later Spencer was out of the shower and I was in, regretably to wash the ink off my hand. When I was out of the shower Spencer was wrapping up a conversation on his cell phone, with me only just catching the ending.

"Yeah, yeah sure, we'd love to." A pause on Spencer's end before he laughs and it definitly narrows down the list of people he could be talking to. "Alright, yeah, bye." Spencer hangs up as I move into the room, eyeing him curiously.

"Who were you talking to Spencey?" I press, Spencer avoids looking at me, seeing as how I'm changing and no matter how close we are, we just don't do that.

"Jon," Of course it was Jon, I should've known. "He invited us to go snorkling." Spencer says with an air of caution to his voice.

"Spencer," I start, dropping my t-shirt on the bed as I zip up my jeans. "Do you not remember how he invited us last year too?"

"Yes, Ryan."

"And do you not remember how I almost drown?" Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Spencer narrows his sharp blue eyes.

"You got a piece of seaweed stuck in your snorkle." He deadpans and I give him a half hearted glare.

"Yeah, but if I recall right which one of us was saying 'Please, don't let him die Jon! He's my woooorrrld!'" Spencer's round face scrunches up as I tug my t-shirt on, laughing at my dead on impression of Spencer from last summer.

"That doesn't sound like me." He insists, crossing his arms over his chest in mock anger.

"Plus, Jon totally mouth raped me." I point out and now Spencer's glaring for real.

"That was CPR."

"That was me getting more action with Jon in two minutes than you have in two years."

Spencer throws a pillow at me but I'm perpared, dodging effortlessly, years of experience will do that to you. I stick my tongue out at Spencer before I turn and bend over to get my wallet out of my suitcase. I can't believe I forgot the cardinal rule of friendship, never turn your back on your sneaky best friend. In an instant Spencer has me on my stomach, pinned to the bed. He's using his stature to hold me down, sitting on my butt. Spencer manages to get ahold of my flailing arms and pulls them behind my back, I'm fucking incapacitated.

"Wow Ry, you better be careful with that Brendon guy, you're extreamly easy to take advantage of." Spencer's laughing above me and I glower into the bedspread.

"Yeah, well, not everyone is a huge perv like you..and I can't breath so, up please." I gasp out, really, Spencer is going to kill me.

"Not yet, you gotta promise to go snorkling with Jon and I." Spencer commands and I glower harder.

"I hope you know I'm glowering at you." I point out, Spencer laughs. I growl and try to buck him off of me but he barely moves at all, damn him and his bulky build. At this rate I'll pass out from lack of oxygen which may or may not be more painful than choking on seaweed so, I give in and agree to be the third wheel in what will undoubtedly be a Jon/Spencer flirting fest.

Spencer finally climbs off of me and I flip over on my stomach, stretching out the kinks in my arms.

"I hate you Spencer Smith."

"No you don't." Spencer laughs from somewhere in the room and I glower as hard as I can.

*
An hour later Jon Walker is throwing a snorkling mask at me and telling me to 'Jump on in!' I think the sea water has affected his mind. Spencer follows his lead though but I think it's mostly because Jon's shirtless and wet. Unfortunately, Spencer has his hand wrapped around my wrist and he's tugging me in after him.The water is warm though so, I don't really mind.

The entire scenery here is breath taking, what with it's long stretches of white sand, impossibly blue water and fresh air. Besides, I can finally get a good tan, extreamly pale is not a good look for me. Spencer's pale too, most of the people who are new arrivals to the island are, Jon's not though. Jon's skin is baked a toasty golden brown and glistening, his hair has also lightened up significantly due to the constant sunlight. He's really good looking and if Spencer weren't totally, head over heels in love with him he'd be worth hitting on.

"See, the deeper out you go, the cooler the things you'll see." Jon's telling them as the three of us wade out into the crystal clear water. Spencer is smiling and nodding and he was never interested in anything sea related until we met Jon two years ago. Two years ago when we were both sixteen and here with Spencer's parents and his younger sisters. Two years ago when Jon was a nineteen year old lifeguard that Spencer used to stare at and contemplate fake drowning to meet.

These days it's just Spencer and I coming out here, a gift from Spence's parents for keeping up good grades during the year. Spencer's eighteen now, the very reasonable explanation as to why he's only now trying to seduce Jon. From what I can see it's working both ways here because Jon's got his hands on Spencer's broad pale shoulders, pointing out something for him to see in the water.

So, the third wheeling begins.

The first thirty minutes of the snorkling are fine, it's actually cool and Jon does know his shit. Plus, it's entertaining to see Spencer flirting. We're shoulder deep in the water now, taking a break to catch our breaths. Somehow we've gotten back around to last years snorkling incident and the talk turns to my almost drowning.

"That was hilarious man!" Jon is laughing, Spencer watching with an amused smile on his face. "He was all like 'Help! I'm drowning! Help!' Jon does an imitation of me that has Spencer laughing his ass off, complete with flaily hands and splashing and I promptly splash water at the two of them.

Suddenly there's a loud whistling noise echoing through the air and the splashing of water surrounding us. I whirl around to find that someone's swimming out towards us and panic strikes in my chest, my first thoughts are fuck! Shark attack! Someone cue the 'Jaws' theme! Jon doesn't seem panicked at all but Spencer is looking on with wide eyes.

Whoever was swimming to us promptly reached us and stopped, his chest heaving and his black hair stuck down to his forehead. It was Brendon. "Whose drowning?" He asks, his brown eyes wide as saucers as he stares at the three of us. I'm a little upset that he doesn't immidently recongize me like I did him.

"Uh-" Jon says, a sheepish look on his face. Brendon finally seems to really be drinking in the scene, finally taking in that he knows or met at least two of the people here. "No ones drowning Bren." Jon tells the black haired boy. Brendon's brown eyes go back to their regular size. "We were just teasing Ryan and-" At the mention of my name Brendon finally does look at me, his eyes flickering with what I hope is recongition.

"Ryan," He says, a smile slipping on to his face. "Ryan Ross." Okay, so he does remember me.

"So, this is Brendon." Spencer is saying but I'm completely ignoring him at the moment.

"What are you doing out here Ryan?" Brendon asks, it seems he too is ignoring both Spencer and Jon, his gaze focused entirely on me.

"Snorkling." He laughs at that, his pale chest still heaving. "What about you?" Hell, if I had known that I was going to run into Brendon here I wouldn't have gotten my hair wet, I tend to want to avoid the drowned rat look, it isn't good for me either.

"Oh, I'm, uh-I'm sorta a lifeguard." Brendon's blushing like he's embarressed to admit that fact.

"Sorta?" Jon question, Brendon's gaze lifts and he kind of glares at Jon.

"Well, I'm...I'm the junior lifeguard." Okay, so maybe that's a little more embarressing. I hear a choked off noise and I know that Spencer is trying to hold back a laugh, that bastard. Brendon ducks his head and won't meet my eyes, I know he's embarressed. Matters only get worse when there's another whistling sound emitting from the beach.

"Brendon! Is everything okay?" There's a guy decked out in bright red shorts standing on the beach. Brendon is blushing a faint shade of pink now as he turns back to face the beach, Spencer taking his opportunity to give me a stare which means 'You're in love with a junior lifeguard!' I glare and give him back a look along the lines of 'Shut up right now or I'll tell Jon that you want to have his babies.'

Spencer promptly looks away.

"Yeah, everything's fine...I guess I got too eager again." Brendon calls back weakly to the guy on the beach. Spencer's making that choking noise again and I only hope that Brendon can't hear him. He turns back to glance at the three of us. "I-sorry..." He mutters, cheeks tinted red as he swims away, faster than I can manage to catch him.

As soon as Brendon is out of earshot Spencer busts out laughing. "Junior lifeguard." He wheezes out and I splash a handful of water right in his face.

*
Brendon was gone from the beach once I reached it, white sand clinging to my wet feet and ankles. I didn't know where else to find him and I was disappointed that I couldn't tell him that I didn't care that he was a lifeguard, I wouldn't fucking care if he was a bum who danced for nickles.

Spencer and I go back to the room to shower once again, Jon's arm wrapped tight around Spencer's shoulders on the walk up to the room.

We don't really have anything to do tonight, Jon inviting the two of us out to dinner at that little sea side resturant. Spencer's extreamly excited, bouncing around as he changes his outfit for the third time in fifteen minutes. I'm less than excited, sitting on my bed, glaring at my cell phone, willing it to ring. I want Brendon to call me, I thought that he would but now, the incident at the beach...maybe he's too embarressed to get around to doing it.

"Why don't you just call him?" Spencer asks, finally leaving his own mind and entering my world. I cross my arms tight over my thin chest, tearing my gaze away from my cell to look at Spencer.

"He probably doesn't want to talk to me since my best friend is an insensitive jerk." I complain, pouting just slightly. Spencer rolls his eyes and plops down on the bed beside me.

"All the more reason for you to call him and tell him otherwise."

I'm silent for a moment before I shake my head, crawling up under the scratchy hotel blanket and tucking my head under the soft pillow. "No, I'm just gonna lay here and die alone." I retort, my words muffled by the pillow. I can hear Spencer sigh and he shifts, his hand peeking under the pillow and poking at my cheek.

"Come on, you'll feel better once we go to dinner."

"I don't wanna go anymore." I know I sound whiny, but I just don't care. "Brendon Urie doesn't love me, life is now meaningless."

Spencer flips the pillow off of my head and I look over at him.

"You have to go." He looks worried and I'm willing to bet it's more for himself than it is for me. I shake my head and attempt to reclaim my pillow.

"You don't need me."

"Ryan! If you don't go it'll be just Jon and I!" Spencer protests, like, that's the last thing he wants in the world. I roll over and prop myself up shrugging.

"So? Isn't that what you want?" Spencer's silent and I can read his mind, he's scared to be alone with Jon. I make this thought audible and Spencer crinkles his nose.

"I'm not scared!"

"Then go, because I'm not. I'm going to sit here and order some room service and maybe watch a romantic comedy or something." I know it's lame, yet I do not care.

"That's lame Ry."

I don't have a chance to respond because there's a knock at the door and for a moment I let myself think that it's Brendon, that he's come to take me away from this rinky-dink hotel room.

"Spence, Ry, you two ready?"

Damn that Jon Walker ruining my fantasy.

Spencer looks at me with worried eyes, silently asking me one last time to go to dinner with him and Jon. I shake my head and tug my shirt off, showing him that I'm basically hunkering down for the night. He sighs and glances back towards the door, Jon knocking once again.

"Go, Spence." I urge, I know he'll be great and if he's lucky he'll get a little action tonight, Spencer needs the action. The blue eyed boy finally nods, gives himself a once over in the mirror and he's pulling open the door, leaving me behind as I glare at my cell once again.


July 4th

Brendon never did call me that day or the day after. I've been stalking the sandy white beaches in the hopes of running into the black haired boy but he wasn't around. It's like he's dropped off the island which is terribly sad for me.

"Oh my god, Ryan, can we please leave! I'm going to get a sunburn!" Spencer complains as we stomp up the west side of the beach, the hot sand warming our toes. I'm thinking that Spencer is getting upset about this sudden lack of Brendon too but not because he actually wants to see the boy again but because I won't rest until I find him.

"You have three layers of sunscreen on, I think it's a safe bet that you won't." I retort as I cross my arms over my chest and scan the beach for the fifth time that day. There is a lifeguard but it most certainly isn't Brendon. Spencer sighs next to me, bowing his head to avoid the blazing sunlight in his eyes.

"It's obvious that this Brendon guy is busy...or he doesn't want to be found."

"And whose fault is that?" I ask, I'm not exactly blaming Brendon's sudden departure from my life on Spencer, except that I am. Spencer shoots me a glare.

"It's not my fault that he's an uber sensitive lifeguard." Spencer notes, pushing his damp fingers through his hair. I know I can't blame Spencer, it's not fair and if there's anyone to blame it would be myself for being too much of a pussy to bother texting Brendon and actually telling him that I want to see him again.

Eventually Spencer and I grow too heated in the glaring sun and we take refuge under our umbrella's, we like being island stereotypes, what with our big sunglasses, coconut drinks, and little colorful umbrella's. A little ways away from us; the beach workers are setting up displays for tonights fireworks display. We're going with Jon, of course. Not much has changed between Spencer and Jon since the night of their dinner two days ago. Though there may have been a kiss on the cheek which had Spencer over the moon and grinning all night.

"Just text him Ryan, invite him to see the fireworks with us tonight." Spencer prods and I sigh, that's not what I want to hear, even if it is what I need to do.

"I left my cell at the hotel." It's a lie, it's tucked nice and secure in the pocket of my swim trunks but Spencer doesn't need to know that. There's silence before I feel a body leaning over me and a hand poking the what I had previously thought was a secret, pocket.

"Sure you did."

*
At dusk Spencer and I head down to the beach, Jon planning on meeting us there. It's cooled off significantly since we had been out this morning and still, nothing has changed in those small handful of hours, still no Brendon, me still being a pussy and Spencer still prodding me to; "Just call him dammit!"

The wind is warm as Spencer and I walk, it tickles feather soft against my body. Since it's slightly cooler out, I'm actually wearing a shirt, bright white button up with said buttons undone, my shirt fluttering in the wind. Pair that with black jeans and I know I'm looking hot, not that I actually have anyone to look hot for but still.

Spencer is dressed much more casually, light blue t-shirt, black shorts, flip flops that look supiciously like ones that match Jon Walker's. The beach is a decadent stretch of lights and activity. People milling about everywhere, which is expected considering the fireworks display is one of the biggest draws of the summer. White lights are strung up on every available surface, there are grills in numerous places, food and drinks and just general good time everywhere to be found. And despite the smile on my face, my mind is looking for only one thing.

I think you can guess what that is by now.

Jon ends up finding Spencer and I. He jogs up to us wearing a black t-shirt and long jean shorts, hair windswept and eyes shining, more specificaly, shining at Spencer. He pulls the two of us into a tight hug, Spencer's hug lasting longer than mine but I don't really mind.

"Spence, loving the flip-flops." Jon is grinning, Spencer matching it. I almost roll my eyes, almost. Jon turns his gaze to me and he's still smiling. "Nice...hair, Ry." He adds, like he felt the need to compliment me too.

"Thanks," I'm barely paying attention, my gaze flickering all around us, looking for that same familar form. I can see Jon staring at me out of the corner of my eye.

"Um-" Jon starts, his deep brown gaze flickering to Spencer.

"Jon, you know Brendon right?" Spencer asks suddenly, I glare at Spencer while Jon looks at us with a mix of casual surprise.

"Sure, good friend of mine. Why?"

"Do you know where he's been?" Spencer asks, he blows off Jon's question which surprises me but maybe I've been a little more annoying then usual. Jon is watching the two of us with amusement in his eyes before he shakes his head.

"Haven't seen him around in a few days. Why?"

Okay, so at least Brendon isn't just avoiding me, even though he kind of is. Spencer looks back at me, his soft face has lost that annoyed edge but I still recongize the new emotion playing there. He's feeling sorry for me. No, I don't want that. I don't need Spencer and Jon canoodling all night and Spencer sitting there feeling bad for me because a boy I met once has decided to not call me back.

"It's nothing. Listen, I'm gonna walk around a bit." I start, glancing around me at the throngs of people. Spencer's face falls.

"Ry, you don't-"

"Dude, it's fine. I'm fine." I tell him, my hand giving his shoulder a tight squeeze before I leave the two of them. I can practically feel Jon's questions and their gazes burning into my back as I walk away but I know that it's the right thing to do. Spencer doesn't need me dragging down his second 'date' with Jon and I don't need the two of them feeling sorry for me all night long. Maybe I'd just find some secluded spot on the beach and wait for the fireworks to start.

By now I'm far enough away from where I started to not know where I am at all. This section of beach has a lot of food and drinks and I decide to maybe grab myself a drink, hopefully the bartender won't card me. As I wait in line to get a drink I find myself feeling more and more isolated. There are couples everywhere, clinging all happily to one another. It makes a slow burn of jealously make it's way across my chest. Okay, now I'm just pathetic.

I didn't come here looking for a boyfriend, for an anything really. I came here to escape shit like that and then I just had to go and meet Brendon Urie, the junior lifeguard with the face and voice to die for. The more I think about it, the more I actually want to tell Brendon that. What if I was wrong all along and he wasn't avoiding me because he thinks I'm embarressed about his profession but because he thought I was looking for something longterm. I'm a tourist for god's sake, how could I possibly be looking for something more?

By now I'm all worked up, enough that I grab out my cell and hit Brendon's name, starting a text to him. I don't want to come off as some kind of crazy person so, I just start by telling him that I was on the beach and that he should come down too. Before I get the chance to send said text message I'm in the front of the line and the bartender is asking me what I want.

I slide my cell in my pocket and order a drink. The bartender eyes me suspiciously but there's a long line forming behind me and maybe I look like the type of guy who might make a scene. He gives me my drink, little yellow umbrella included.

Back to texting now. Spencer is always warning me about walking and texting at the same time but I mean I'm on a huge stretch of beach, who the hell am I going to crash into? Apparently someone out there wants to prove me wrong because at that very moment I do bump into someone, my drink spilling all over my chest and shirt and my lithe body crashing to the sandy ground.

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry." The glorious voice of an angel says to me. I look up through my lashes and see Brendon Urie, junior lifeguard staring down at me.

"Brendon?" I say purely out of surprise, not even the cold wet feeling of my drink spilling on me is even to dispell the heat I get from seeing him again.

"Ryan?" The black haired boy seemed to finally recongize me and he's dropping down next to me on his knees in the sand. "Shit, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention and now you're all wet..." Brendon bites his lip and yes, I want so badly.

"It's..it's alright. I wasn't paying attention either." I don't bother to tell the boy that I was preparing to text him and make myself seem desperate. There's a slight silence between us and Brendon ducks his head as if he's embarressed.

"Somehow I always make myself look like an idiot in front of you." The black haired boy sighs out. That wasn't exactly true.

"It doesn't bother me. I feel like that's just who you are." I tell him, my hand slipping to his shoulder and giving a slight squeeze. "I just like seeing you." I add, there might be a light blush spreading across my cheeks but I don't really care.

Brendon lifts his head and he's grinning, that perfect grin that makes something spark in my chest. "Sorry I never called," The boy starts, he stands and offers me his hand, pulling me up with him. "I guess it was...you seemed so cool and together. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with a fucking junior lifeguard like me."

I'm blushing at the compliment. Though it is something that Spencer always tells me, I come off really intimidating at some points, that sometime it turns people off. "I don't care about what you do Brendon. You don't have to be so embarressed. I mean I don't even have a job back at home." I trail off unsure of what else to say and Brendon's grinning once again.

"I got you all sticky." He points out, I look down at my chest and my shirt, both stained a sticky orange color. I shrug, try to let him know that I don't care about that. I don't really, I'm seeing Brendon again. Brendon in his once again tight jeans and red t-shirt.

"It's alright."

Brendon shakes his head. "No, a gentleman always fixes his mistakes." The other boy insists. "Here, give me your shirt." He tells me. It's an odd request but I trust him so, I hand it over. Brendon throws me a smile as he points one finger in the air, giving me the one moment gesture. The slim black haired boy races down to the beach, down into the surf, sneakers and all.

He comes back moments later as I stand there shirtless in the warm breeze. "Here," He tells me, handing me back my now dampened shirt. "So you can clean yourself up." He adds. I take my shirt back and wipe myself off with my shirt. Once I'm clean I see Brendon tugging off his own shirt, revealing long pale stretches of alabaster skin. God, he's perfect.

http://i526.photobucket.com/albums/cc344/taymonkey95/hearts-2.jpg








(Besides Cassie, who of course I care about dearly and wouldn't care if she's the only friend I have there because she's so amazing it makes up for 1,000,000 people or so.)

That was one of the nicest things said about me so I guess that's who I am.



Chapter two:

Terry McLennan.
I could write an entire page about his face, his hair, his hands, his name, his eyes, his voice; an entire chapter on all the things he ever said and did to me; an entire book on everything he’s ever made me think and feel and do. And, honestly, I probably would, but, as mentioned before, this manuscript is not about him or me. It’s about Nye. However, in order to rationalize my resentment of The Scene and in order to tell the story of how I met Nye, thus explaining our relationship, I need to tell mine and Terry’s story as well.
It all started in the middle of 9th grade.
I was the fun, cocky, over-confident, oh-so-sanguine, “cool girl” that was almost everybody’s best friend, he was the placid, soft-spoken, troglodyte-haired transfer student that was too much of a stranger at the time to be anything to anybody. The first time I saw him was in the hall-way at school, approximately half an hour or so before the morning bell signaling the beginning of classes sounded, giggling and gallivanting away with about 10 or 11 of my closest friends. Every now and then, a distant bystander would shyly inch a bit closer, moving half reluctantly, half eagerly into the outskirts of our congregation, wanting to join in the fun, but not wanting to trespass. For this reason, my horde of beloved friends often appeared about 3 times larger than it actually was. People always wanted to join us, because we always looked like we were having the most fun. Not to mention, it was rather hard to carry on in one’s own private, secluded little conversations with oh-so-distracting loud-speakers of kids like us around. Whether they wanted to or not, people simply couldn’t help paying at least the smallest fraction of attention to us. We were just that hard to ignore.
Really, it wasn’t that we were important or interesting or anything. We were just extremely obnoxious and loud and queer, and therefore nearly impossible to disregard completely. And we looked rather unusual together, too, actually, which also acted as a bit of an attention magnet. What I mean is, we all didn’t seem to externally fit together, or, at least, not by Hollywood’s standards and anyone who’s ever seen a teenage blockbuster’s expectations. But what Hollywood and it’s followers fail to realize is, most people usually out-grow the whole clique thing in middle school. High school is the era in which people usually start to branch out. Hence me hanging out with both a life-long Star Trek alpha fanatic, a drop-dead gorgeous home-coming queen candidate, and pretty much all the kids in between. Sure, I was popular, but I wasn’t a stereotypical, exclusive, popular bitch. I’d be nice to anyone who was nice to me, be a friend of anyone who genuinely wanted to be a friend of mine.
So, of course, that morning, when I suddenly sensed someone’s gaze burning a hole through my back and turned to see Terry casually watching me, from his place in the distant but not quite neighboring shadows, I merely smiled amiably in greeting. In response, he blinked questioningly, then, continued to stare. And stare. And stare.
Realizing rather quickly that I was not going to get a response to my endeavors at a polite greeting, I merely shrugged, rejoined my friends discussion, and forgot all about the seemingly insignificant encounter until 7th period. Because, come 7th period, I entered the classroom to find that 1): he was in my class, 2): he’d been assigned the seat right next to me, and 3): when not lurking in the shadows, he was simply breath-taking. But not breath-taking in the way most people would expect. There wasn’t a single attractive celebrity out there Terry resembled in the slightest,--unlike my last boy-friend, who bared an uncanny resemblance to a much younger, less sophisticated Ashton Kutcher--but there was just something about him that made me want him to hold me in his arms and practically lacerate my mouth off in a kiss so profound and fantastic, I’d probably forget to breath within the first 10 seconds.
Maybe it was his thick, silken, jaw-length, chest-nut brown hair. Maybe it was his paralyzing, electric, liquid hazel eyes. Maybe it was his long, lanky, boyish body. Maybe it was his slender, defined, Slavic face. Hell, maybe it was his low, incoherent, mumbling voice. I don’t know. In any case, I knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight at all with him sitting in such close proximity to me all semester.
Not just because of the way he looked, but because of the way he acted. He kept trying to sneak glances at me, kept trying to catch my eye. Really, the fact that he was so close and so suffocatingly beautiful was making me self-conscious enough, but being under his constant scrutiny? Honest to God, it was a miracle I didn’t break out in convulsions within the first 5 minutes of class.
At one point, Terry rested his head on his arms, which he’d decided to make a pillow of, and looked as if he was about to fall asleep. Feeling like I had to say SOMETHING because I hadn’t said anything to him for the entire class and it was getting so painfully awkward, I was about to cry, I refocused my gaze on his tranquil features and commented: “Tired?”
He opened his eyes, took a second to just look at me, replied “No, I’m bursting with energy,” and settled back into his repose. In response, I just laughed softly, not knowing what else to do. He was the first person who’d ever answered that question with sarcasm. Usually, the inquired individual would respond with a groggy “yeah,” and proceed to tell me why they were so drowsy and how much sleep they missed out on because of it. People loved to complain and talk about themselves. They were never too tired to indulge in a bit of self-absorption. It was common knowledge.
But Terry… He didn’t even try. And, for some reason, that intimidated the hell out of me.
At another point, when the teacher brought up the Biology HSA-one of the dreaded mandatory High School Assessments, which everyone within Maryland had to pass in order to graduate,--Terry smirked haughtily and said more to himself than to me: “Yeah, except I already passed the HSA’s, so I could say the sun is a giant lamp if I wanted to.”
Incredulous, I whipped around, so my entire body was facing him. “YOU already passed the HSA’s?” I demanded, utterly stunned.
He nodded smugly.
“All four?
Again, he nodded. “All four.”
Half-joking, I narrowed my eyes at him in a spiteful glower. “Lucky bastard,” I accused.
Feigning arrogance, he widened his now-glinting eyes at me and mock-taunted: “I could say 2 plus 2 equals pickle. I could say the president of the U.S. is secretly Santa Claus. I could say you spell ‘Mississippi’ with no S’s. And you know what? There wouldn’t be any penalty. Know why?” In a braggadocios singing voice, he once again told me why: “’Cause I passed all the HSAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’s!”
For a few seconds, I just glared at him enviously. Then I noticed something. He had a scar on his eye. An indiscreet, thin, narrow, white slit-mark that run from the tip of his eye-brow all the way to the far-reaches of his cheek beside his ear.
“Hey,” I said, automatically reaching out to briefly touch the scar’s edge farthest from his hazel optic. “What happened to your eye?”
Oddly enough, Terry didn’t seem at all fazed by me, a girl he’d only known for 25 minutes, touching his face. He didn’t react to it at all.
In response to my question, he just looked at me for a minute, considering how much to tell me, and eventually muttered: “It got cut.”
At that, I couldn’t help but laugh. NOW who was stating the obvious?
“Well, no shit. But, like, how?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get it out, the teacher materialized right in front of us and brusquely told us to shut up and pay attention.
By the end of class, or at least, a few minutes before, I was bursting with questions. A cornucopia of questions. Unfortunately, I only got to ask 2.
Me: “Hey, what grade are you in, anyway?”
Him: “10th. I’m supposed to be in 11th, but I got hit by a car, and they had to hold me back because I missed too much school while I was in the hospital.”
Me: “Oh… Well, if you already passed the Biology HSA, why are you taking the class again?”
Him: “I passed the test, but I failed the class.”
I was about to ask how that was even possible if he had really missed as much school as he said, but I was interrupted by the sounding of the dismissal bell. Instantaneously, in one, fluid movement, Terry was out of his seat and, in another 10 seconds or so, out the door before I could even open my mouth to pronounce his name. Like a bat out of hell.
I was so surprised by his speed and eagerness to escape the classroom that for a moment, all I could do was sit and stare after him.

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