she's my winona; brendon urie au

fifteen

He said "bring the thunder!"
•
•
•

It was the day before my date with Brendon, and I was doing nothing to prepare myself. Sure, I've gone on dates. But not in the past three months. Regardless, I was on my couch eating smiley fries and watching tv with Marley, who had begun speaking a little more frequently. Words he spoke were simple, things like "clock," or "apple," but there, nonetheless. In the depths of my thoughts, I got a phone call from Claire.

"Aloha," I hear.

"Hello, love." I answered.

"You never caught me up with the stuff about Roger and everything. Like, I know you decided that you are keeping Marley, but have you told him yet?"

"Uh, not exactly," I mutter, "I'm kind of waiting it out until he calls, or forgets, or whatever."

"You really think he will do either of those?"

"I mean, he'll call if he remembers, obviously. And he could also forget because he doesn't fucking need the house and therefore is not thinking about it." I spit.

"But won't the state take it from you? And isn't it still in his name?" Claire questions.

"Ah, don't tell me that shit, it's so damn complicated. Let me relax for once, Claire."

"You sound drunk right now, and that's not a very good sign." She notes.

"Well, what do you want me to do, Claire? I don't have the money to buy a house," I admit.

"Well," she mumbles, "You could temporarily give Marley back to your mom, and then you could live with me."

"Claire, what's this about? You know I can't do that,"

"I just miss you . . . so much. Nothing is the same without you here, and you're always welcome at Casa De Claire."

She seemed nervous and scared-and that's something I've never experienced with Claire. She's always loud and obnoxious, happy and carefree. It's so unsettling to hear her like this.

"I can't leave Marley with my alcoholic, psychotic mother. Are you crazy?" I say.

"Okay, so just bring him to my house."

"I don't know about that," I trail off.

"Oh, come on. At least think about it. We could make enough room for him, and we'd be such good parents for him."

"What about when you want to bring a guy home? Or when you wanna go partying?"

"I won't, I swear! But if anything comes up, we have Henry, right?" Claire reasons.

"I guess so."

We hang up the phone call on an uneasy note-me agreeing to move back in with Claire. I chose to give myself a week to call Roger and move myself in. What I realized with all this, is that I need to pace myself. It's too much.

---

I woke up to the unavoidable truth: I fucked up. It is now the day of my date with Brendon, and I haven't even considered preparing. I did think about it a lot, I just didn't want to be overeager in the preparation. With that being said, now I am incredibly stressed.

"Hey, Marley. How would you feel about your first sleep over tonight?"

Claire is a saint.

After Marley and his stuff were picked up, and I cried for a couple minutes, I finally decided that procrastination and tears were not the solution. So, I showered and shaved, and then proceeded to search my closet. The place we were going to was a small, semi-fancy, Italian restaurant. I opted for a cute red dress (a/n: see picture at the top <3) and black heels. I'm personally a little bit too obsessed with jewelry, so I took about twenty minutes examining each piece I had for earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and even anklets. I decided to go with a white-ish theme, so my pearl necklace seemed to fit, as well as matching pearl earrings and a silver ring. Once my make up was done-concealer, mascara, red lipstick, and completed eyebrows-I paced around my living room for a couple minutes figuring out how many ways I could possibly run away if I had to. The window, if I ask him to look at something maybe I could slip by him and out the door. I do that to remind myself how dumb I'm being. It usually works, because I end up distracting myself, when I feel like I'm just preparing for the very possible scenario in which I would need to escape. There was a knock on the door, and the only logical explanation sent goosebumps decorating my arms. It's funny how when you like someone you feel so goddamn sick. I think it hurts more than it feels good. The door knocked again, straying my thoughts away from my head. Behind the door held Brendon in a white button-up and dark grey trousers. I smiled when I saw him, absentmindedly. He seemed pretty occupied looking at me, too.

"Wow, C-Carly, you look very nice," Brendon says.

I smile and blush, "So do you,"

Brendon looks down at the flowers bunched in his hand. They seem to surprise him, as he suddenly looks up, his hands shaking a little.

"Oh, I, uh, I brought you these." He says, holding the bouquet out.

I reach out and gracefully take them, accepting the cliché as I invite him inside while I fill a vase with water for the flowers.

"Carly, the flowers are fake," He smiles.

I laugh awkwardly and place them down on the table. He follows that with a sincere chuckle, calls me cute, and leads me out the door. This is gonna be a long night, isn't it?

a/n: hey, oh my god this took me way to long to finish. but thank you guys for being patient and sticking with me! i love you all so much. i hope you guys like it.

i've been thinking that i don't like this book and i don't like the way it's going, but then i was like okay emma calm down, this is your first book. if i give up now, i'll never get better and learn how to really write full books. so if i finish this strong, i'll know for next time.

random side note-who has been watching thirteen reasons why? that shit is getting to me man.

anyways, thank you so so much for reading. i love you guys lots. and as always, suggestions, requests, comments, and questions are all welcome either in my PM's or comments.

:)-emma