Alone Together

“Rae, you can’t just sit on the steps forever. We’ve got to get going,” Patrick groaned from the couch, nervously fiddling with his fedora. Rae had refused to move from the steps leading into the tour bus, stubbornly insisting that they couldn’t leave yet. Joe had already given up arguing with her and had fallen asleep in his bunk; Andy either didn’t care or wasn’t as bothered by it and was playing video games in the back. Pete hadn’t left his bunk in the hour that Rae had assumed her stance; everyone assumed he was resuming his emo psyche.

“Au contraire, my darling,” Rae said, holding up a finger. “I’m staying here for as long as it takes.”

“But why?” Patrick could feel a definite headache coming on.

Rae sighed and shook her head. “Patrick, I love you, but you’re a close-minded idiot sometimes.” She adjusted so she could glance back at him, flashing him a very unamused stare. “I’m staying here because we can’t leave yet because Taylor is going to come.”

Patrick’s eyes shot over to the bunk area nervously, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the curtain of Pete’s bunk remained closed. He hopped off the couch and sat on the floor near Rae in an effort to keep their voices quiet. “Honey, you know she’s not coming,” he said softly.

Rae scoffed. “I know no such thing. You have very little faith, Patrick. I know she’s going to come, because—“

“Because what, Rae?” Pete’s voice was strained, and the couple both froze when they turned and found him glaring at them. His hair was a mess and his eyes were red rimmed, whether from exhaustion or tears, they couldn’t tell. His face was pale, but there was a red tint growing in his cheeks as he turned on Rae in a fury.

Patrick squirmed in his seat under Pete’s glare, but Rae just shrugged at him as if unfazed. “Because she has to,” she said simply.

“I hate to break it to you, but she’s not coming,” Pete snapped.

“But she will,” Rae insisted. “She loves you, Pete, she wouldn’t—“

“She’s never fucking coming, Rae, okay?” His outburst silenced Rae, and he clenched his fists to refrain from punching the wall. “She’s made her choice, and she’s decided to stay in New York. So get the fuck off the steps and let’s get the fuck on with the tour, all right?”

Patrick shuffled away, but Rae stayed seated. She glared up at Pete from where she sat, her toes still dangling out the door defiantly. Pete snarled and leaned closer to her until his face was inches away. “I said, get the fuck off the steps, Rachel. We’re going. Stop dicking around.”

“Stop being a dick!” Rae snapped back. “Excuse me for believing Taylor isn’t just going to leave things like this!”

“She already fucking left, Rae!” His shout was so loud that it disrupted the entire bus; Joe peeked out from his bunk and Andy cautiously opened the door to the back while Patrick jumped from the ferocity of the shout. Pete’s chest heaved and his nails dug into his palms, his eyes never leaving Rae’s blank face.

“She made up her mind four years ago, Rae. All of this? Was just a joke that shouldn’t have happened. Nothing has changed, okay? She’s not coming. So let’s just go.” His glare shifted, and Rae picked up on the plea he left unsaid. He needed to leave, because it was too painful to linger. It was too painful to wait. He needed to go.

They stared at each other, and finally Rae relented, giving him a sad nod. “Okay,” she said softly, finally standing from her seat and allowing the door to safely close. She pulled Pete into her arms before he could storm away, noticing Patrick quietly disappear into the bunk area and shooing Joe along with him into the back to join Andy. “It’s okay,” she said again, holding him a little tighter.

Rae was a strong woman, Pete knew. She could care less about a lot of things—she rolled with whatever the press said about her, and whatever the fans berated her about. Half the time she seemed to hardly ever care about what she went out in public in, wearing some fashion choices that even Pete had never attempted in his day. But above all else, Rae cared about the people she loved, and she loved Pete as one of the best friends she’d ever had.

So he knew she wouldn’t speak to the guys about the tears that spilled over her shoulder. He knew she wouldn’t tell Patrick about his sobs, even if he and the others could hear it through the door. Pete was glad Rae had joined the gang as his best friend’s lady, and wondered what they all would do without her.

But then he remembered that he was with Taylor the night he met Rae, and the pain only burned him even deeper.

--

The tour bus was gone. No matter how hard Taylor looked, she knew it was to no avail. The only buses lingering around the city were the ones ushering in tourists for their annual day trips for Broadway shows or treks around Times Square. It was probably a sign—the bus was gone, and so was Pete, and therefore any chance of their future together. She should just return to the hospital and her father with a quick, “I tried,” and then resume the life she had developed on the East Coast and glide along until she found a half decent guy and had his kind of cute kids and then continue on the path to contentment she had laid out for herself.

But Taylor didn’t want that. For too long she had just settled and let others enjoy life. Too long she had taken a step back to allow others the happiness they deserved, sacrificing her own happiness as a result.

She wanted to be with Pete. She didn’t know how it would happen, but she had to try. Chicago, New York, Los Angeles…It didn’t matter, anymore. It really never had. She’d lived many places in her short life, and there was one thing she was certain of—

No matter how much she tried to fight it or ignore it, none of those places had been home. Her only home was with Pete.

Hailey met her in the lobby of the hospital with her car keys. “Evan can deal with taking a taxi to work for a little bit. Hell, a walk would even be good for him,” she had said. “You take as long as you need, Taylor.”

Taylor looked up the tour schedule and escaped the city with a hastily packed bag to head south to Philadelphia. With any luck, she’d get there close to when the bus did. Rae was sure to hook her up when it came time to getting into whatever venue they were playing. She listened to Fall Out Boy as she drove, listening intently to the lyrics as the miles dragged on.

Around the state border, a storm started clouding the skies overhead like a tantrum waiting to happen. The windshields had to work their hearts out when the rain started beating down, and Taylor could hardly see out the windshield as the mist from the hot gravel rose up against its abuser. It was getting too dangerous to even be on the road, and with an irritated huff Taylor pulled off onto an exit that led to a rest stop. The car needed gas, anyway, and Taylor decided she’d take the moment to call Rae and implore her for help.

After refilling her tank and pulling into one of the lonely parking stops by the restaurants, Taylor dug out her phone and dialed the familiar number. It rang twice before being answered to Rae shouting, “It’s not my fucking fault it’s pouring out, asshole! Take off the skinny jeans and chill the fuck out!” There was some shuffling and a quick slamming of a door. “Hello?”

“Rae, it’s me,” Taylor said.

Rae groaned and took a few deep breaths, sounding like she had just jogged a small distance. “Taylor?”

“Yeah.” Lord, this was awkward. Taylor couldn’t tell if the pounding she heard was over the phone or just the sound of the raindrops out her window. “Listen, I’m on my way to Philadelphia.”

“You…you are? You mean you’re coming?”

Taylor took a deep breath and nodded, even though Rae couldn’t see. “Yes. I’m on my way now, I just had to stop at a rest stop. It’s raining really bad so I had to stop for a bit. I just need your help—“

“Wait, are you really? What rest stop?” Rae asked.

Taylor groaned and glanced around. “Um, I don’t know, I can’t see a name. Listen, Rae, I just need your—AH!” A body slammed itself into her car door and Taylor screamed, banging her elbow into the steering wheel in her attempt to slide away from the sound. Rae beamed at her from outside, dripping wet from the rain, and she pointed at the window, gesturing for Taylor to unlock the door and let her in.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said as she shivered in the seat, cupping her hands together and huddling close to the warm air blowing out from the vents.

“You…you’re at this rest stop, too?” Taylor gaped at her friend, not fully able to grasp that she was sitting right next to her.

Rae just nodded and shook out her hair, trying to knock out the drops that held on to each strand. “Yeah, we’re parked around the other side. The driver was too nervous driving in this weather. We’ve been here for like an hour. I think he’s terrified of the possibility of crashing and getting blamed if something happens to one of the guys. Lucky it rained, huh?” She lunged at Taylor and wrapped her arms around her neck, ignoring the surprised cough her friend choked out and instead just squeezing tighter.

“I knew you’d come, Taylor. Granted, I thought we’d see you again in New York, but a rest stop in Pennsylvania works, too.” She shot Taylor a questioning look. “What took you so long?”

“I…I’m sorry,” Taylor said. She stared at her steering wheel as Rae’s grip loosened. “I didn’t think I’d even catch up with you guys for another three or four hours.”

Rae watched her and shrugged. “Well, why’d you decide to come after us?” she asked.

Taylor sighed and looked over at her. “Pete.” That was the simplest explanation she could offer. Rae just smiled sympathetically.

“Well, I could’ve guessed that. I know you love the rest of us, but we don’t exactly have the kind of relationship where you’d chase us down to tell us how much you feel about us.”

“Oh, God.” Taylor covered her face with her hands, overcome by nerves. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Rae rolled her eyes and slapped Taylor’s arm. “No offense, Taylor, but you’re being ridiculous. If this were a movie, or some kind of love story, the audience would be screaming their fucking heads off at you for being such a dumb and indecisive shit right now.” Taylor’s mouth fell open and Rae just nodded along. “Hey, I’m just saying. You don’t drive all the way out of New York on a whim only to back out. That only happens in Patrick Dempsey movies.”

Taylor’s lips curved up in a tight smile. “Does it?”

Rae just shrugged. “Probably. I actually wouldn’t really know. I’ve only seen Enchanted.”

They were quiet for a minute or two, listening to the sound of the rain harassing the roof and splattering over the pavement. Finally Rae said, “He hasn’t left his bunk since we left New York.”

Taylor was silent for a moment before she turned to Rae. “I think I know what’ll get him out of it.”

Rae just grinned. “I’ll text Patrick to get the guys out of there. We’ll get dinner or something.” She gave Taylor another quick hug. “I’ll show you where the bus is parked. Patrick will leave it unlocked. Just maybe text me as a warning if you two start getting it on.”

Taylor choked out a laugh and they ran out into the rain. “I don’t think that’ll happen.” Rae just smirked.

The door to the bus was an odd kind of terrifying when Taylor reached it. The rain made the grey of the bus very muted, but it lost none of its officialness in the gloom. It towered over her like the clouds overhead, and it was only with the knowledge that Rae and the guys were waiting patiently in the restaurant for both storms to pass over that she was able to muster up the bravery of clicking the handle open and stepping inside, dripping water over the floor from her drenched clothes.

She didn’t really notice any of the details of the bus. She vaguely noticed a black couch, a table attached to the wall, and Red Bull cans scatted around the floor. It was difficult to memorize any of these things, because her eyes were instantly drawn to the curtains down the hall, specifically to one that was partly closed and hiding the man she had come to see. She was hardly even aware of the water running down her jeans into puddles around her feet, or that her hair was sticking to her face and neck, or that her shirt was clinging to her skin like it was afraid of falling. When her hands tugged the curtain, none of it really mattered, because a pair of chocolate eyes glared up at her for a brief moment before softening into complete shock.

“You’re soaked,” Pete said.

“I know,” Taylor replied.

They stared at each other, and each rain drop hitting the roof counted the seconds that passed as they took in the other’s appearance, trying to fully digest that they really were seeing the person in front of them. It was Pete who spoke first. He wiped away the sleep and dried tears that had crusted his eyes and blinked at her. “Do you…do you want a dry shirt or something?”

Taylor just shook her head and continued to look at him, fighting the urge to stare at her feet. She knew that if this was going to work, she needed to act braver than she felt. “No,” she said softly. “I want you.”

Pete scrunched up his face and glanced around his bunk. “What are you doing here, Tay?”

She knelt on her knees so their faces were at a similar level, resting her palms on his bunk to maintain her balance. “I’ve been an idiot,” she whispered. She finally broke and looked away, unable to take the intensity he was shooting at her. “Such an idiot, Pete. I never meant for you to think that I don’t care about you. I’ve always cared about you. I always will.”

“What are you doing here, Taylor?” Pete repeated, his voice stronger than before.

Her eyes shot up to his again, the green tight around her pupils with a fire he’d never seen. “I don’t care about New York,” she said. “I never did. The business is great, sure, but it’s growing. I can expand. I can make another one. I just don’t know about Chicago—I think about you and Ashlee too much when I think about Chicago. I think maybe it’s too soon for there.”

His throat felt dry, and he struggled to keep up with her rambling. “What are you talking about? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want to be with you,” she said, cursing her voice for breaking on her. “I’m saying that I love you and I never want you to doubt how I feel about you ever again, because you’re important to me, Pete—you’re more important to me than some silly flowers.”

Pete shook his head. “I’m dreaming,” he said. “We’ve crashed or something, haven’t we?” He laid back down in his bunk with a huff. “I hope they’re gentle when they put in the IV. That shit can hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” Taylor asked. His eyes were closed and he was shaking his head. She reached forward and touched his cheek, falling over when he yelped and jumped up.

“Shit, your hand is cold!” he said.

“Well, obviously! I’m soaking wet from the rain, Peter!”

He looked pensive when he looked back down at where Taylor had fallen, his lip caught between his teeth as she struggled to sit back up. “Your hands are never cold in my dreams. Maybe this is real.”

“You think?” Taylor said, finally managing to right herself back onto her feet without sliding around anymore. She was suddenly made more aware of just how uncomfortable it was to be in clothes that had passed the damp timeline and socks that were heavier than bricks. “Is it too late to hit you up on that offer for a dry shirt?”

“You’re really here then,” he said, ignoring her question. “You actually came after us.”

She nodded, deciding to focus on peeling off her shoes rather than the stare Pete had fixed upon her. “I wasn’t going to,” she admitted, wincing at the prunes that were her toes when she slipped her socks off her heel.

“Why did you, then?” he asked.

She shrugged, too embarrassed to look up at him. “My dad said some things that made me realize some things.”

“Are you planning on expanding on that or should I just go back to sleep?”

Taylor sighed and shivered when Pete’s fingers grazed the underside of her chin, turning her face to make her look up at him. His stare wasn’t soft, nor was it harsh; it was actually quite patient, but with a trace of a glare that indicated the patience wouldn’t last long. “Please, Taylor,” he said.

She bit her lip and nodded, somehow unable to look away from him. “He talked about my mom,” she said. Pete held his breath; Taylor had only twice mentioned her mother to him—once when she pondered over her mother’s post-mortem happiness, and another time when she revealed her mother had had an affair, thus ending Taylor’s dream of a fairytale childhood.

“What did he say?” he asked, leaning down to dig in his bag. He offered her one of his shirts and a pair of gym shorts. She accepted them with a weak smile, feeling too shy to change in front of him at the moment.

“He regretted not telling her how much he loved her more. It’s weird,” she said, running her fingers over the lettering of the shirt Pete had given her. “I never really thought about how my dad felt after the whole thing. I never got a chance. I didn’t know he loved Mom all that much.”

“You can change, you know. I won’t be a pervert about it,” Pete mumbled. He laughed at Taylor’s expression and held up his hands. “I swear. You’re just gonna freeze in those things if you keep them on.” He graciously turned away to lessen her embarrassment so she could shimmy out of her increasingly uncomfortable jeans and into the outfit he offered her. When he felt her hand on his back he jumped and turned around in his bank, grabbing her hand and tugging her in to lay next to him before he had a chance to think about it.

She slid in next to him, her chest pressed tightly against his in the cramped space. His hands settled on her waist, but he resisted the urge to nuzzle into her hair. Her fingers itched to caress his cheek, but she held them tight to her chest. “Anyway,” she coughed. “He told me he hoped I wasn’t making the same mistake. And I realized I almost did.”

Pete nodded and looked down at her hands. “The shirt looks good on you,” he murmured.

“I love you,” she muttered back.

The silence was almost painful; their breaths see-sawed against the pace of the storm, and their eyes locked with more electricity than the lightning cracking against the sky. “Please say something,” Taylor finally whispered.

His hands slid up to her cheeks and he pressed his nose against hers. “How do I know you’re not just going to leave me again?”

Her tears wet his thumbs when she shook her head. “I don’t want to leave again.”

She thought he was going to send her out of the bunk when he didn’t immediately respond, but then his lips were all over her face, kissing away her tears with a vengeance. “Swear.”

She gasped when his lips dropped to the space between her shoulder and neck, and he bit down on the skin, running his tongue over the blood that spilled out as he tried to leave a mark. “I swear,” she said, and his attack on her neck grew in passion.

“Stay with me for the rest of the tour,” he mumbled between kisses.

“I was hoping to stay with you even longer than that,” she moaned as his hands wandered down to her stomach.

He grinned against her skin and tugged the curtain to the bunk closed. “Good,” he said. “’Cause I’m not letting you go.”