Alone Together

Despite Taylor’s protests, Patrick and Rae wouldn’t let her be alone that night. They insisted she join them at the hotel, since the band had another week before they took off to continue their tour. The couple even joined her in the cab ride to her apartment to make sure she didn’t duck out, and after she had grabbed a little suitcase for the night, they all rode back to the band’s hotel. Joe and Andy had already retired to bed, and Brendon had excused himself to his room to call his wife, Sarah. Patrick and Rae’s room had two Queen beds, and so it was decided Taylor would stay in with them, giving the friends a chance to catch up.

Patrick told stories of his solo career during the band’s hiatus and Rae giggled over evenings out she had spent with Jane. Taylor felt boring talking about her company, but the couple seemed to be genuinely interested in everything she had to say. They stayed up talking well into the night, and as the topics ran out and the laughter died down, the couple gave Taylor a weary look, warning of a shift in the conversation.

“He never told us what happened the night before you left,” Patrick sighed. “We all thought he said something horrible that made you want to leave. He was a mess before he went to meet you.”

“He’s been a mess since you left, too,” Rae cooed, picking at a stray thread on her pajama bottoms. Neither asked the question that had lingered in their minds for the past four years, trusting Taylor would answer it if she chose to.

Taylor swallowed and nestled into her pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly she was back to that night, staring up at her own ceiling before a smiling face came into her gaze. She smiled back and reached a hand up to stroke his cheek, reveling in the kisses he planted on her face before their lips met as a gentle caress.

Patrick cleared his throat and the vision vanished, leaving her cold and ashamed. Taylor looked over at the other bed and sincerely hoped the darkness of the room hid her embarrassed tears. “We were in love,” she said simply. “But it was wrong.”

Patrick and Rae waited for her to go into more detail, but minutes passed with no other explanation. Rae squinted in the dark. “I think she’s asleep,” she whispered to Patrick.

Taylor stared at the wall as she heard the couple settle in and eventually succumb to slumber. She shivered and pulled her blankets up further around her shoulders. A few rooms down, Pete had trouble sleeping as well.

Pete glared up at the ceiling, angry that his insomnia had decided to keep him awake. He had already flipped through all the photos on his phone, deleting all the ones he decided he didn’t need, and had suffered through several levels of Candy Crush before all his lives were gone. There was nothing on television that held any interest for him, and so he was left to just replay the movies in his mind as he rolled over onto his side.

It was like he could see her next to him again, her long red hair spilling over her bare shoulder as she looked up at him through lowered lids with a gentle smile. Her breathing was heavy in the stages of recovery and her delicate fingers brushed against the pillow. If he reached his hand out he could probably touch her, brush back her hair and expose her beautiful body to him again, but when he lifted his hand his fingers met only air. The dream evaporated and he muttered a curse, slamming his fist onto the mattress.

Four years, and now suddenly she was at one of their shows? Four years, and she just reappeared into his life, with no call, no warning, after four years?

He couldn’t decide if he wanted to scream at her or kiss her. Or maybe scream at her and then kiss her. Or maybe just kiss her.

He had never told Patrick or the guys that he had slept with Taylor that night before she left. He didn’t really know why, as they probably all assumed it anyway, but somehow it felt like not telling anyone kept the moment real. It was theirs, and not under scrutiny by anyone, just a magical evening before the world fell apart.

Pete knew he’d have to face her sooner or later. There was no way the band would avoid her during their week in New York, and he couldn’t just stay away from the band all week for no good reason. But how could he face seeing her again? How could he risk seeing the reality in her eyes that she didn’t love him? Or even worse, that she still did?

Pete groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. This damn woman made him such a pansy.

--

“I hear you’re quite the hoot when you’re drunk.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow as she flipped another pancake. Brendon was leaning on her island, giving her a mischievous grin. He had given her a ride back to her place that morning as the rest of the band gathered their bearings before joining them for breakfast at Taylor’s apartment. Brendon’s fingers tickled the bottle of Mrs. Butterworth.

“Who told you that?” she asked.

Brendon shrugged. “I hear things.” His fingers were a little naughtier on the syrup bottle. Taylor slapped his hand away with her spatula.

“I don’t really drink,” she said, placing a plate of pancakes in front of him to distract him away from molesting the bottle. Brendon grinned and dug in, stuffing his face and moaning his approval of her cooking. Taylor’s ears twitched when she heard a knock on the door and she waited to pour more pancake mix in the skillet. She sighed and tugged open the door, plastering on a bright smile. “Hi, guys! Come on in, I’ve got some pancakes for you.”

The gang all grinned and hurried in, pushing Brendon out of the way in an effort to get to some of the breakfast. Pete lingered in the doorway, feeling his anxiety raise the closer she moved towards him. She offered him a gentle smile, the same smile he always saw in his old dreams, and tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “Hey, Pete.” She cursed her throat for making her voice shaky.

He tore his gaze away from his shoes and looked up at her, cursing the universe for making her even more beautiful than in his memories. “Hey, Tay.”

The room was quiet as the pair stared at each other, drinking in the changes four years had made. Pete noticed Taylor’s hair was longer, the waves weighed down a little more, and her hips were a little rounder, providing more curves to her perfect physique. For every pound Patrick had lost, Pete seemed to have stored a sample, slightly chunkier than Taylor remembered but still fit and muscular. He didn’t have bangs anymore, and instead his hair sat like a perfect mess on his head. She pulled her eyes away and hurried back to the stove. Her movements seemed to break everyone from their trance, and the conversations resumed.

Pete felt strange walking into her apartment. It was so different than the one she had lived in when in Chicago. Her couch had always been on the other side of the room, not under the window like it was now. Her kitchen here was tight and crowded as everyone piled around to grab their plates, but Taylor didn’t seem to mind. Her face was glowing with the love she had for all her friends, and when her gaze passed again to him, Pete looked away. He didn’t think he could bear to decipher whatever look she might give him.